latte and observed the world through the café’s rain−streaked window. People hurried along the street, dragging small children and shopping carts behind them, while others huddled in shop doorways to avoid the worst of the downpour. The only sounds were the low murmur of conversation from other occupants of the café, and the hiss of car tires on the wet tarmac outside. He checked his watch. It wouldn’t be long now.
He took another sip of his coffee and smiled. There it was − the prisoner transport vehicle detailed to ferry John Simpson to Durham Prison. He reached into his pocket and removed his phone. He sent the message he’d prepared earlier to Troy and Gabriela, after which he left the café, got into the hire car parked outside and started following the armoured van.
They drove through the town, past abandoned shops and rows of small terraced houses, out to the dual carriageway leading to Durham city. Oskar felt his pulse quicken, his beast rousing itself from slumber − he could almost imagine it wagging its tail in anticipation.
Soon. Be patient.
The armoured van was five cars ahead, so he slowed down to allow two more vehicles to pass before joining the flow of main road traffic. Gabriela would be around the same distance ahead of the van by now. The noose was tightening around Simpson, and he had no idea. This would all be over in moments. Oskar smiled and waited for Gabriela’s signal.
The line of traffic ahead came to an abrupt standstill; the rows of brake−lights stretching out through the grey drizzle like a neon snake. The prison van had stopped directly opposite a junction, Gabriela timing her breakdown to perfection, but then Oskar had expected no less from her. It was time to close the jaws of the trap. Picking up his phone, he texted a single word to Troy.
‘ Now. ’
A blare of horns came from the adjoining road as the twin headlights of a petrol tanker blazed through the rain and burst through the traffic, accelerating towards the junction on the wrong side of the road. Oskar unbuckled his seatbelt and removed the vehicle’s ignition keys, then bringing his wolf fully awake and holding it just below the transformation threshold. Time slowed, the world taking on a monochrome cast. He heard cries of alarm from the occupants of the other vehicles as the tanker hurtled toward the junction, the click of door−locks as people scrambled to get clear. Children screamed, their mothers frantically trying to free them from car seats. Oskar looked up at the tanker and saw Troy, grinning like an idiot, sitting stop the corpse of the tanker’s driver.
The petrol tanker slammed into the side of the prison van.
The impact hurled Troy through its windshield, sending him sailing over the crash barrier and down a slight slope leading to the fields beyond. The momentum of the massive tanker had pushed the prison van against the steel barrier, crumpling the side of the van. The tanker, with a dead man’s foot still planted on the accelerator, hadn’t slowed down, instead mounting the side of the armoured vehicle as if it were a ramp. The tanker’s storage vessel ruptured, spilling fifty thousand litres of petrol onto both the road and prison van. Oskar smiled, taking a phone from his pocket and dialling a prepaid cell phone they’d picked up the previous day. Expectantly, he braced himself.
The bomb that Troy had planted on the tanker was crude and small, little more than a firework with a detonator connected to a phone. It was more than enough. The device ignited the fuel from the stricken tanker, exploding in a searing fireball that appeared to expand in slow motion, consuming the vehicles closest to it. The roar of the flames mingled with the screams of those of the trapped, while the people who’d managed to escape their vehicles staggered ablaze along the roadside until they collapsed to the ground and burned. One child, wrapped in fire from head to foot, still carried a burning teddy bear
He took another sip of his coffee and smiled. There it was − the prisoner transport vehicle detailed to ferry John Simpson to Durham Prison. He reached into his pocket and removed his phone. He sent the message he’d prepared earlier to Troy and Gabriela, after which he left the café, got into the hire car parked outside and started following the armoured van.
They drove through the town, past abandoned shops and rows of small terraced houses, out to the dual carriageway leading to Durham city. Oskar felt his pulse quicken, his beast rousing itself from slumber − he could almost imagine it wagging its tail in anticipation.
Soon. Be patient.
The armoured van was five cars ahead, so he slowed down to allow two more vehicles to pass before joining the flow of main road traffic. Gabriela would be around the same distance ahead of the van by now. The noose was tightening around Simpson, and he had no idea. This would all be over in moments. Oskar smiled and waited for Gabriela’s signal.
The line of traffic ahead came to an abrupt standstill; the rows of brake−lights stretching out through the grey drizzle like a neon snake. The prison van had stopped directly opposite a junction, Gabriela timing her breakdown to perfection, but then Oskar had expected no less from her. It was time to close the jaws of the trap. Picking up his phone, he texted a single word to Troy.
‘ Now. ’
A blare of horns came from the adjoining road as the twin headlights of a petrol tanker blazed through the rain and burst through the traffic, accelerating towards the junction on the wrong side of the road. Oskar unbuckled his seatbelt and removed the vehicle’s ignition keys, then bringing his wolf fully awake and holding it just below the transformation threshold. Time slowed, the world taking on a monochrome cast. He heard cries of alarm from the occupants of the other vehicles as the tanker hurtled toward the junction, the click of door−locks as people scrambled to get clear. Children screamed, their mothers frantically trying to free them from car seats. Oskar looked up at the tanker and saw Troy, grinning like an idiot, sitting stop the corpse of the tanker’s driver.
The petrol tanker slammed into the side of the prison van.
The impact hurled Troy through its windshield, sending him sailing over the crash barrier and down a slight slope leading to the fields beyond. The momentum of the massive tanker had pushed the prison van against the steel barrier, crumpling the side of the van. The tanker, with a dead man’s foot still planted on the accelerator, hadn’t slowed down, instead mounting the side of the armoured vehicle as if it were a ramp. The tanker’s storage vessel ruptured, spilling fifty thousand litres of petrol onto both the road and prison van. Oskar smiled, taking a phone from his pocket and dialling a prepaid cell phone they’d picked up the previous day. Expectantly, he braced himself.
The bomb that Troy had planted on the tanker was crude and small, little more than a firework with a detonator connected to a phone. It was more than enough. The device ignited the fuel from the stricken tanker, exploding in a searing fireball that appeared to expand in slow motion, consuming the vehicles closest to it. The roar of the flames mingled with the screams of those of the trapped, while the people who’d managed to escape their vehicles staggered ablaze along the roadside until they collapsed to the ground and burned. One child, wrapped in fire from head to foot, still carried a burning teddy bear
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