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near him, was ludicrous. The violence of the unseen blow knocked the air out of his lungs. Pain seared down his side and he gasped for breath. The wall held him up for a couple of seconds, then his legs collapsed under him and he crumpled to the floor.

  45

Julianna

Julianna had experienced such a burden of adrenaline in the last twenty-four hours, she was too numb to notice its renewed effects. She had seen those wild eyes of Saddler's before – the man at the farmhouse just before she shot him. This time she had no defensive gun, only her lightning responses. She lifted her leg as Saddler's finger squeezed the trigger. Her foot failed to make contact. However, the jab served a different purpose. The gun went off, but his inexperience showed. Distracted by her swinging leg, the shot missed Jackson.

A red inkblot rapidly seeped through Mark’s t-shirt and rippled down his side. Chris froze; the chief bodyguard’s aghast expression locked on Mark’s bloody chest. Julianna started toward Mark.

‘Don’t go near him,’ said Saddler, curtly. ‘He can bleed out there.’

Pulsating with fury and hate, she wanted to tear Saddler apart. But the punch bag technique wouldn’t work here – Saddler had the advantage. She let out a low cry of frustration.

Saddler returned the gun’s sights to Jackson; his outstretched arm trembled and fresh beads of sweat trickled down his flushed face.

‘Still,’ Jackson urged Chris. Jackson's life was all about taking risks and he rarely screwed up. However, the risks he took were financial ones. Money was easier to sacrifice. People’s lives were very different. She hoped he remembered her intuition wasn’t as trusting.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw movement outside. Perhaps nothing more than the elusive cat, except it wasn't that small. Jackson’s steady gaze fractured for a second too. What had he seen?

‘You’ve made your point, Saddler,’ Jackson said, regaining his composure with deft swiftness. ‘Why don’t you just go? Tie us up. We’ll be stuck here for a while, and you can get away.’

‘Shut up.’ Saddler’s eyes bulged. ‘I have the gun. I get to decide. He’ll pay me a bonus, especially when I give him her.’ He jabbed his other hand at Julianna. ‘So the news on the TV about the shoot-out and chase, it's all you?’

She nodded slowly. ‘Why did you do it? Why did you give me to them?’

Saddler shrugged, mocking her with a touch of bravado. ‘When I told Roman that you boasted about Dublin, he was furious. You humiliated him and it took weeks for him to recover. Roman had this idea to get his own back. Mark, I knew, lived with you, but he really wants you. I told him about your little walk on Fridays. It's bad practice, Julianna, to stick to a routine. You should know better.’

Jackson's blue eyes flickered, then returned to the gun. She saw the same thing – the movement wasn't a cat. She had to stop staring at the intruder on the patio or risk Saddler seeing her reaction.

As Jackson kept him talking, Chris edged toward Mark. Chris understood the significance of what was happening in the room and outside. He kept Saddler occupied with his small act of rebellion. Saddler frowned but didn’t order him back.

Julianna joined in the distraction. ‘How long have you worked for them?’

‘Years. While I was in vice, other units too. So easy. I let them know when raids were on, when the girls needed to be moved about and they kept me satisfied in other ways – money, not girls. I'm not that cheap.’ The smile was unpleasant. ‘They hate your charity. Told me to get in there: infiltrate it and appear the generous volunteer and if I could send a few of the girls back to them, they would line my pockets.’

‘So why are you leaving in a hurry?’ asked Jackson.

Saddler rested his bottom against the dining room table, the gun steady, his stance obnoxiously confident. ‘Since I can’t raise anyone, I've decided to take a sunny holiday abroad until it all dies down. I was going to send my apologies for reneging on my commitments to your beloved Opportunitas, but since you're here, I can do it in person.’

‘Your wife?’

A brief flare of his nostrils, then he laughed, a half-hearted chuckle. ‘Left. Well, she’s been leaving for years, and this week she packed up proper in a hurry. She’ll come back for some photos of her family, but I’ve dealt with them. She’ll want the cat, too; she loves that filthy fur ball.’

Mark inhaled sharply and his legs twitched. Blood trickled down into the crevices of the laminated floorboards. Time wasn't on their side.

‘Stazki’s dead,’ Julianna blurted. ‘So's his boss.’

Saddler snapped to attention and shook his head with disbelief. ‘No.’

Another glance over her shoulder. Mark’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

She faced Saddler. ‘That car chase, he smashed the car. Seen that in your news bulletins; two dead men in a car in a ditch? A bald middle-aged man with a puckered scar on his left cheek. I had a good look at him.’

‘You’re panicking, aren’t you?’ Jackson sensed a climax too. ‘Things have been going wrong for a while, haven’t they? What with infiltrators and rivals.’

Saddler's face slowly drained of colour. ‘I told you to shut up!’ The barrel of the gun shook.

‘It’s over, Saddler. Others, beside we three, know about you. The evidence is there ready to be handed over. You won’t make it out of the street, never mind the country. The police have been called. Armed police.’ Jackson lied with his double-bluff. Tess was probably the only one who knew Saddler’s location; anybody else would take time to track them down.

Saddler’s eyes narrowed in spite. ‘Then I have nothing to lose if I do

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