Part 41 (1/2)

'The consequences. I might not be around any more, but the, ah, department I work for will be. And I'm afraid they'll have to go into overdrive at that point. Which means that you, your friend back there, Downey, the child, your husband, your old friend, er, Wigwam . . . Everyone you might have had contact with, really. Will all meet major accidents.'

'I ought to kill you.'

'That's your choice. But you won't just be killing me. You'll be starting something you can't stop. You've been lucky so far, you know. Very lucky. We've been a little stretched. Turn this into a full-scale emergency, and what's happening in the Gulf right now will look like tea-time. Now, perhaps I ought to give you a while to think about this, but that's hardly crucial, is it, Sarah? I mean, this isn't a difficult choice you're facing. Happy ever after, or let's f.u.c.k everybody. Pardon my French.'

'You're not human.'

'Compared to some of my colleagues, I'm a teddy bear. A teddy bear that's been awarded the n.o.bel peace prize. Now, I really think you ought to put the gun down, Sarah. Before everyone you know and love gets hurt.'

And to his deep relief, he saw that she was considering doing just that.

He breathed in, breathed out. Somebody's life pa.s.sed before his eyes . . .

Howard stepped forward, and picked the gun from the ground where she'd dropped it, then took a number of steps back, and raised the barrel so it pointed at Sarah.

'What's the matter?' she asked him.

'Let's not be obtuse.'

'But you said '

'I said you could sign some papers. I'm sorry. I lied.' He raised the gun and sighted down the barrel.

'But '

'But no. I'm sorry. You're brave. I'm sorry.' He lowered the gun. At this range, he was hardly going to miss. No need to make a production of it.

'But '

'I'm sorry.'

He fired.

And Sarah . . .

For one split moment Sarah was standing at the end of a long long corridor, watching a bright light rus.h.i.+ng towards her at one hundred miles an hour. With it came a noise, something like an angry wind or a whole gang of lions roaring at once, and it changed colour as it approached: now red, now green, now red, now white, now red. In the end it was all red and it swallowed her up just as the noise vanished, and it was like having a telescope she was looking through shatter, leaving her disoriented but exactly where she should be. Then the noise came back, only this time without lions: just a high-pitched scream which scaled the trees, looking for a way to break the sky.

Sarah took a deep breath, and knew she was alive.

The man lay on his back a few yards away, the appalling stump of his right arm gus.h.i.+ng blood, though he gripped it by the elbow with his left as if that might help. Sarah had never heard another human issue sounds like this. It was what people meant when they spoke about banshees. His face growled at her, all his features colliding, as if the bland disguise had dropped away, showing the child of darkness beneath. The darkness, though, was mostly made of pain.

The shotgun was a twisted mess of metal at his feet.

She opened her mouth to say something, but found nothing to be said.