train was travelling at speed. Outwardly, Adam seemed cowed: inwardly, he was bracing himself for action.
And then they hit the junction. There were two loud clunks, the coach rocked, and Clark was unprepared. With one hand on his knife and the other on the front of his coat, he had no upright support and was thrown sideways towards Adam. As he swayed, Adam landed a rabbit-punch behind his ear, sprang to his feet, and snatched the fire extinguisher. Taken by surprise, Cregan was a fraction slow getting up and, as he rose, Adam brought the heavy cylinder hard down on his head. Then he pressed the emergency button.
Cregan and Clark were only briefly stunned, and both were now trying to grab their prisoner. Adam stepped back, pulled the lever on the fire extinguisher, and fired a jet of foam, first into Clark’s face, and then into Cregan’s. Again the respite was brief, but now the doors were open. Adam threw himself through the space and began running along the walkway beside the track. By the time the men got out, Adam was five yards away, and going fast. ‘Croak him!’ yelled Clark. ‘Use the gun!’
Cregan had the gun out of his pocket already. He steadied himself and took careful aim. Twelve yards away, Adam was an easy target.
But the man in the dark suit had also got off the train. And he’d flicked a switch in his umbrella and drawn out a sword-stick . As Cregan’s finger tightened on the trigger, the man thrust the blade deep into his back, between the shoulder blades. The trigger remained unpulled, and Cregan slumped to the deck.
Clark watched with astonishment and terror as the man withdrew the sword from Cregan’s body and turned towards him. His knife would be no match for that long blade. He’d alwaysenjoyed administering cold steel, but he had no enthusiasm for receiving it. Quickly deciding that a ducking would be preferable , he vaulted over the railings at the side of the pier. He’d miscalculated. At the pier-head, the sea was fathoms deep. But the train had brought them close to the shore, and the tide was out. Clark fell thirty yards onto hard sand, and lay there in a crumpled heap.
The man in the dark suit wiped his sword-stick on Cregan’s jacket, removing the blood. Then he replaced it in the umbrella, and began walking briskly back towards the pier-head.
Running at full tilt into a strong wind, Adam was unaware of the drama taking place behind him. It was strangely noiseless, the accuracy of the sword-thrust giving Cregan no chance to cry out. Adam didn’t look back. Escape was his sole concern.
He found himself running towards the shore, that being the direction in which he’d tumbled from the train. The thought raced through his mind that perhaps he should be running back to the research centre, to don his white coat and apologize for a prolonged tea break. But in his heart he knew that life could never return to the normality he’d enjoyed in the last six weeks. He didn’t know the fatal outcome of the scuffle outside the carriage. But he realized that the stopping of the train and the struggle in the coach would be reported. There’d be an investigation and his guilty secret was likely to be discovered.
So he ran on. His immediate need was to get off the pier and away from the thugs. He was now approaching the pier entrance. The turnstiles which had admitted holidaymakers in peace-time had been replaced by a naval checkpoint, with a guard-room and a barrier. As Adam got close, he risked glancing back. No one was following. Relieved, he slowed down to a walking pace, striving to regain his breath and a calmer appearance.
At the barrier, two men in dark blue raincoats had shown their passes and were talking to the guard, who seemed to be giving them directions. Then he saw Adam approaching. ‘That’s Mr Webber now,’ he told the men helpfully. As the menmoved forward to meet him, Adam’s mind reeled under another blow. These burly individuals were obviously two more
And then they hit the junction. There were two loud clunks, the coach rocked, and Clark was unprepared. With one hand on his knife and the other on the front of his coat, he had no upright support and was thrown sideways towards Adam. As he swayed, Adam landed a rabbit-punch behind his ear, sprang to his feet, and snatched the fire extinguisher. Taken by surprise, Cregan was a fraction slow getting up and, as he rose, Adam brought the heavy cylinder hard down on his head. Then he pressed the emergency button.
Cregan and Clark were only briefly stunned, and both were now trying to grab their prisoner. Adam stepped back, pulled the lever on the fire extinguisher, and fired a jet of foam, first into Clark’s face, and then into Cregan’s. Again the respite was brief, but now the doors were open. Adam threw himself through the space and began running along the walkway beside the track. By the time the men got out, Adam was five yards away, and going fast. ‘Croak him!’ yelled Clark. ‘Use the gun!’
Cregan had the gun out of his pocket already. He steadied himself and took careful aim. Twelve yards away, Adam was an easy target.
But the man in the dark suit had also got off the train. And he’d flicked a switch in his umbrella and drawn out a sword-stick . As Cregan’s finger tightened on the trigger, the man thrust the blade deep into his back, between the shoulder blades. The trigger remained unpulled, and Cregan slumped to the deck.
Clark watched with astonishment and terror as the man withdrew the sword from Cregan’s body and turned towards him. His knife would be no match for that long blade. He’d alwaysenjoyed administering cold steel, but he had no enthusiasm for receiving it. Quickly deciding that a ducking would be preferable , he vaulted over the railings at the side of the pier. He’d miscalculated. At the pier-head, the sea was fathoms deep. But the train had brought them close to the shore, and the tide was out. Clark fell thirty yards onto hard sand, and lay there in a crumpled heap.
The man in the dark suit wiped his sword-stick on Cregan’s jacket, removing the blood. Then he replaced it in the umbrella, and began walking briskly back towards the pier-head.
Running at full tilt into a strong wind, Adam was unaware of the drama taking place behind him. It was strangely noiseless, the accuracy of the sword-thrust giving Cregan no chance to cry out. Adam didn’t look back. Escape was his sole concern.
He found himself running towards the shore, that being the direction in which he’d tumbled from the train. The thought raced through his mind that perhaps he should be running back to the research centre, to don his white coat and apologize for a prolonged tea break. But in his heart he knew that life could never return to the normality he’d enjoyed in the last six weeks. He didn’t know the fatal outcome of the scuffle outside the carriage. But he realized that the stopping of the train and the struggle in the coach would be reported. There’d be an investigation and his guilty secret was likely to be discovered.
So he ran on. His immediate need was to get off the pier and away from the thugs. He was now approaching the pier entrance. The turnstiles which had admitted holidaymakers in peace-time had been replaced by a naval checkpoint, with a guard-room and a barrier. As Adam got close, he risked glancing back. No one was following. Relieved, he slowed down to a walking pace, striving to regain his breath and a calmer appearance.
At the barrier, two men in dark blue raincoats had shown their passes and were talking to the guard, who seemed to be giving them directions. Then he saw Adam approaching. ‘That’s Mr Webber now,’ he told the men helpfully. As the menmoved forward to meet him, Adam’s mind reeled under another blow. These burly individuals were obviously two more
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