March 15, 4.23 a.m.
The figure at the bench stopped and started to turn. There was no time left. Harper was already two paces across the room, his body charging towards the bench. Kasper jumped to his feet from the side. The figure turned to Eddie Kasper and as he did, the full weight of Harper’s charge landed heavily on his side, throwing him to the ground.
Harper fell on top of him and they tumbled twice across the floor. The suspect shouted something, but Harper’s arm was already around his neck pulling hard and Eddie Kasper already had the suspect’s gun.
As Harper’s arm jammed hard into the suspect’s neck, the figure stopped fighting and lay still. Eddie Kasper flicked on the lights.
He looked down at the red face of the man on the ground. ‘Fuck you!’ the man shouted. Eddie looked away. Harper pushed the figure off him and stood up.
‘We fucking cleared this with security,’ said Harper. ‘No one comes this way tonight.’
‘You fucking animals,’ said the guard, standing and brushing himself down. ‘Animals.’
‘What the hell happened?’ demanded Harper. ‘We could’ve killed you.’
‘I got told to come here, do a sweep.’
‘This is bad news,’ said Harper. ‘Who told you?’
‘One of your guys.’
‘What do you mean, one of our guys?’
‘Cop. He had a badge. Said he was on the stake-out.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Like a cop – big, arrogant, impatient and ugly.’
‘Where?’
‘He came by the security door.’
Harper and Eddie looked at each other.
‘How long ago?’
‘I don’t know, ten minutes?’
Harper looked around. He spoke quietly: ‘The killer knows we’re here now, but he’s still going to want those prints.’
‘How the hell did he know we were on a stake-out?’
‘He’s not just a cop, is he? He’s a fucking smart cop.’
A second later, the lights flickered and then died. Harper pulled Eddie to one side. ‘He’s going to try to take them – get out of the line of fire.’
In the darkness, they heard a key in the door to the room. ‘He’s locking us in,’ shouted Harper. ‘Do you have a key?’
‘Sure,’ said the security guard, but there wasn’t any time. Something smashed the window of the door and a lighted bottle flew in the room. It shattered over the floor and the contents exploded into flame. Harper and Eddie jumped.
‘What the fuck do we do?’
‘Is there a sprinkler system?’ said Harper.
‘Sure, in the corridor, but not in the photography lab.’
Harper ran towards the door as the flames spread and caught the wood of the benches and the books and files.
The security guard moved to the door and tried his key. ‘Shit, he’s broken his key in the lock.’
Harper’s flashlight picked out the jagged edges of the door windows. It was too small to get through. Eddie moved across, holding his mouth as the thick black smoke started to rise and fill the room. He stumbled against the broken glass, his hand sliced across. ‘I’m cut, Harper.’
‘We got to get out of here,’ said Harper. ‘Get you some help.’
The smoke was filling the room. Harper took his Glock and pumped three bullets into the lock mechanism, then kicked the door open. He rolled into the corridor, his gun in one hand, his flashlight in the other. ‘All clear,’ he shouted.
The security guard led them as quickly as they could through the dark corridors. He pressed the alarm on the wall and the sprinkler system kicked in. Somewhere down the corridors, they could hear a door slamming. The killer was ahead, but not far.
‘Is there a quicker way out of here?’ asked Harper.
‘Not unless you just burst out through the windows.’
‘Which windows?’ said Harper.
The security guard moved across to a door and opened it. The room was illuminated by the faint moonlight from outside. ‘Gotcha,’ said Harper. ‘Get an ambulance, Eddie.’
‘I got to come with you,’ said Eddie.
‘You’ll slow me down,’ said Harper, then he ran at the window, shot once and watched the plate-glass shatter and fall. He leaped on to the bench and out of the window.
A figure was moving quickly across the ground, towards a car. Harper sighted him and shot twice. The shots missed and Harper sprinted towards the car. The figure jumped in and the car’s engine rumbled to life. Harper shot again and hit a side window. The car didn’t make a U-turn as expected, it turned to the right and Harper heard the sound of its undercarriage screech and scrape on the concrete edge of the lawn. The headlights rose across the ground and Harper was suddenly illuminated in a wide patch of grass with no hiding place.
The car started to gain speed, the bumps in the ground making it lift and lurch left to right. It was a hundred yards away and gaining fast. Harper had no time to run; he stood firm and put his gun hand out, steadying it with the other. Shooting someone dead through the windshield of a car that was traveling at speed was hard enough; with the tension and the darkness it was ten times more difficult.
He waited as the car approached. He had one chance and had to leave it as late as possible. Harper counted down. At two seconds he would shoot to the right side of the driver and jump to his left.
His finger pressed. Three seconds. He was blinded now by the headlights, by the roar of the engine. Two seconds. He shot twice and threw himself to the left. The car veered right and clipped Harper’s feet as he was moving through the air.
Harper turned, his gun pointing as the car drove on a few more seconds, then stopped. Harper exhaled. He’d hit him. The killer was down.
Harper scrambled to his feet and moved cautiously towards the car. He peered into the darkness, but through the shattered windshield he couldn’t see a thing. He moved round to the driver’s side. There was a body leaning against the door. He could just make out the trickle of blood from a wound on the side of the head. Harper pulled open the door. Then a gunshot rang out from inside the car. Harper was thrown backwards and the dead driver was pushed out on top of him.
A masked face glanced across. The killer moved across to the driver’s seat and drove the car away.
‘Two of them,’ said Harper. ‘There were two of them.’ He shoved the dead weight off him, stood up and turned over the body at his feet.
Martin Heming’s grimace and wide eyes stared back at him.