Ratcatcher - By Tim Stevens Page 0,78

sodium lamps throwing a fringe of brightness across the small lawns and paved pathways around its base. Purkiss and Elle stopped at the edge of one of the lawns between a small clump of trees, watching and listening. No movement in the shadows. From somewhere, low voices murmured, but it was impossible to tell how distant they were. The rain was steady, soft, its drumming setting up low-grade interference both visually and aurally.

Purkiss glanced behind him. Kendrick was already gone, invisible somewhere in the shadows.

They moved forwards, closer to the tower. Purkiss had one hand in his pocket, his fingertips touching his phone.

‘There,’ breathed Elle. He crouched as she did, arm coming up with the SIG Sauer extended. It was a man’s shape, emerging from the shadows and standing at the foot of the tower, perhaps sixty feet away.

‘Purkiss.’

The voice was quiet but carried against the rain. He recognised it: Dobrynin, the man they’d met at the offices of Rodina Security.

‘Where is she?’

‘Your friend’s here. Is it just the two of you?’

‘Of course not.’

Because of the rain it was difficult to tell if the man laughed. ‘Point taken. I have back up myself.’

‘Where’s Fallon?’

‘You’re here to trade yourself for the woman. It doesn’t matter where Fallon is.’

‘Bring her out, then.’

Dobrynin looked to one side, over to the trees. Two men stepped out, sandwiching a smaller figure as though in a rugby scrum.

‘Her?’ Elle murmured. He nodded.

The men gave Abby a push. She staggered but kept her footing. One of the men said something harsh. Over to the right Dobrynin made motions with his good hand: go on, walk. Behind her, the men had handguns drawn.

Purkiss looked up and off to the left and the right, making a show of it, as if he had an army hidden in the darkness waiting for their orders. He had no idea where Kendrick had positioned himself. With his hand still in his pocket Purkiss used his fingernails to prise the SIM card from his phone and wrap the plastic around it. He brought it up to his mouth and swallowed, wincing at the hardness, feeling it scrape as it went down.

Abby began to take slow steps in his direction. He realised her wrists were bound together behind her back and she had some sort of gag in her mouth. She was too far away for him to be sure, but she didn’t look marked.

Dobrynin called out, in English, ‘Stop.’ She did. Her eyes were on Purkiss.

Dobrynin said, ‘Now Purkiss. Gun on the ground, hands raised, and approach those two men.’

He kept his gaze on the two men. Abby was in his line of sight, nearer, out of focus. He knelt, laid the gun on the ground, folded his hands on top of his head, and began to walk.

The two men raised their guns to shoulder height, both adopting the Weaver stance, free hands cupping the ones that held their pistols. Purkiss watched them over the tousle of Abby’s hair.

As if obeying some unseen choreographer, Purkiss and Abby timed their progress so that they reached one another at what appeared to be the midpoint between the two men and Elle. For a moment Purkiss took his gaze off the two men with the guns and looked down at Abby’s face. He realised she’d been trying to get his attention. Her eyes were flashing frantically above the gag, and he could see the dirty material billowing and sucking as she tried to articulate words. Low sounds came from her throat.

Just as he passed her he lowered his head to catch what she was saying, but it was no good, the gag was too secure. He whispered, ‘Tell Kendrick.’

Then she was out of sight behind him.

*

Later he had time, plenty of it, to reflect on what happened, on whether he could have averted it in some way with a shouted instruction, a warning of some sort. Whether, indeed, he was responsible for it by omission. But as the men shifted their stance and tightened their grips on their weapons and he drew close enough to see the dilation of their pupils in the darkness, all Purkiss was thinking of were the chances of not only taking down two armed men who were fully expecting him to make such a move, but also surviving the assault from whatever backup they had waiting in the shadows.

Signals were useful things when preparing for a combat situation. The fall of the drop of sweat that had been gathering in the