Jack landed on the steep slope of the porch roof. He slid at an alarming rate down the shingles, scrabbling to gain purchase, arms outstretched. It wasn’t until he reached the roof’s edge that he grabbed the guttering and gripped it tightly, hoping to hell it would hold his weight.
It did. He risked a quick glance down. He dangled about twenty feet above a thick outcrop of shrubbery planted alongside the porch below him. If he dropped straight down he’d land smack in the middle of a thorn bush. He took a deep breath, praying fervently that he didn’t break his leg in the process, and released his hold on the gutter.
He fell inelegantly into the bushes; the only damage was to his pride (and a couple of thorns in his backside). With no time to waste, he scanned the horizon and saw Alexios running away towards the beach. With a curse, he untangled himself from the shrubbery and gave chase.
Although his half-brother had a good lead, Jack sprinted down the beach behind him, his arms pumping and his face set in grim determination. By God, Alexios wasn’t getting away. Not this time.
He’d ordered the abduction of two innocent teenagers, he’d taken Jools away from her family and friends… and God only knew what else he’d done to her, what emotional trauma he might have caused. Alexios would answer fully for every one of his misdeeds. Jack would make sure of it.
And if he had to mete out justice to his half-brother himself, he would.
The stretch of beach behind the house was private, and deserted. But as the two men ran further north, the shingle gradually grew thick with bathers and day-trippers, staking their claim to the beach with blankets and umbrellas and rented lounge chairs. Children with sand pails and plastic shovels crouched near the shoreline, their faces intent on building castles or adding pebbles from the shingle into their buckets. If they noticed the two men running headlong down the beach, they gave no sign.
Without warning, Alexios darted up the shingle and disappeared into the crowd. Jack pounded after him, his breath coming in short rasps. He dove headlong into the throng of people, scarcely noticing the overpowering scent of chips and sun cream and sweaty bodies, and scanned the throngs of teenagers and families. He was about to turn away when he saw Alexios disappearing into a car park.
“Stop him!” Jack shouted hoarsely, but like the gulls wheeling overhead, his cry was snatched away by the wind.
His shins protested as he left the shingle and hit the Tarmac, but he stayed doggedly on Alexios’s trail. A banner stretched across the entrance to the car park proclaimed “Mini Convention, This Weekend” in large black letters. The entire car park, as well as a portion of the beach, was indeed arrayed with Mini Coopers of every year, model and colour imaginable.
As he zigzagged through the rows of colourful cars, Jack rounded a neon-pink Mini and realized he was gaining on Alexios. The gap between them had narrowed considerably.
I’ve nearly got you now, Alex, Jack told himself with grim satisfaction. Just another minute or two, you bastard!
Suddenly Jack found himself in the midst of a gaggle of glamorously dressed women, all wearing six-inch Perspex heels and lip-synching to a recording of “I Will Survive”.
He frowned. “What the hell!?”
“Well hello there, handsome!” one of the women cooed flirtatiously, and batted enormous fake lashes at him as she grabbed his arm with surprising strength.
It was a parade, Jack realized belatedly, one of Brighton’s Gay Pride parades, to be exact; and the singing “women” were drag queens and transvestites.
“Sorry, love, but I’m already spoken for,” he flung over his shoulder as he pulled away.
“Ooh, what a pity,” the queen called after him, and eyed Jack’s departing back with pursed-lip disappointment.
Of course Alexios used the distraction to elude him once again. Jack emerged on the other side of the parade and paused long enough to get his bearings and catch his breath. His eyes searched everywhere, but there was no sign of his half-brother. Where the fuck had he gone?
He studied the length of Brighton Pier, packed now with tourists and day-trippers, and it was then he saw Alexios running towards the elaborate Victorian entrance to the pier, knocking people aside in his haste to get through. Jack sprinted after him.
He had to stop Alex before he reached the end of the pier…or before he took an innocent tourist hostage.
“Stop, Alex!” Jack yelled. He withdrew the Glock 17 one of the DCs had given him and fired it once in the air, eliciting a few scattered screams. “Or the next one’s in you!”
But of course Alexios only ran faster, disappearing through the entranceway. Jack thrust the pistol back into his waistband and followed, dodging tourists and pushchairs and kids clutching ice creams, his ears assaulted by the sheer volume of noise from the cacophony of music and shouting and squeals of excitement from the Dodgems and roller coaster and the merry-go-round.
He veered left and saw the Turbo roller coaster rising up ahead, its three rackety cars hurtling down and around the tracks. There was no sign of Alexios. Jack’s eyes scanned the nearby arcades and the yellow token kiosks, but his half-brother was nowhere to be found. Suddenly Alexios emerged from one of the Portaloos to the right of him. Jack rushed forward at the same moment. With a grunt and a mighty heave, Alexios overturned the Portaloo, blocking the way as he pelted towards the end of the pier.
Jack cursed and leaped over the loo. Just ahead to the left was a large, Victorian-style merry-go-round with antique horses. He watched as Alexios knocked the attendant out cold and leaped up onto the whirling merry-go-round’s deck. As he threaded his way past the rising and lowering horses, he risked a glance back over his shoulder at Jack.
He had the audacity to grin. He’s enjoying this! Jack realized, overcome with fury. The bastard thinks this is a lark!
Jack ran after him, skirting the merry-go-round, intent on cutting Alexios off before he reached the end of the pier. But his half-brother anticipated him and leaped off the ride just behind him, then darted sideways. He shoved a portable fish and chip stand aside, sending fried cod and haddock cartwheeling into the air behind him, slicking the boards with hot grease and slowing Jack’s pursuit as he made for the end of the pier. “Give up, Jack!” he shouted over his shoulder. “You won’t ever catch me.”
He didn’t answer; he reached deep within himself, past his flagging energy and burning feet, and raced down the last length of the pier after his half-brother with renewed determination.
Alexios reached the railing at the end of the boardwalk. He spun around to face Jack, his face flushed and his breathing ragged. “Let me go, Jakkos. I’ll jump over this railing and be gone.”
“Not a chance,” Jack breathed, and withdrew his gun. “The SAS and the CID are waiting. They want to have a little chat with you.”
“I have nothing to say to them. Any of them.”
Jack shrugged. “I doubt the conversation will last long, at any rate. You’ll be packed off to Broadmoor faster than you can say ‘sociopath’.”
“I would rather die,” Alexios replied.
“You’re insane, Alex,” Jack stated flatly. “You always were. It’s not your fault; you should’ve gotten help years ago. It’s too late now.”
“Yes, it is,” Alexios agreed, his expression unreadable. “It’s too late for both of us, Jakkos.”
Jack saw a flash, a glint of sunlight against metal as Alexios flicked open his switchblade. Before he could react, his half-brother lunged at him, aiming for his face.
He blocked the blade with the Glock and shoved Alexios back hard against the railing. “Don’t make me kill you, Alex,” Jack warned him as he levelled the muzzle at the other man’s chest.
“I don’t feel like filling out all the paperwork.”
Alexios laughed. “What a twisted sense of humour you have, Jakkos! I’m impressed. Truly.” He spread his hands, lifting his arms out in a gesture of surrender. “Go ahead. Shoot me. Do it. At least I’ll die knowing I’ll be the dirty stain on your conscience, the guilt you’ll carry around for the rest of your life.”
“Tempting,” Jack agreed. He cocked the hammer. “But spending the rest of my life in prison for killing you?” he spat out contemptuously. “Not gonna happen, mate.”
With a bellow of rage, Alexios flung himself forward, blade outstretched, just as Jack squeezed off a shot.
Alexios dropped the switchblade and staggered back as the bullet hit his shoulder. He stared at Jack, startled. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” he managed to say. “Bravo!”
“Come on,” Jack told him as he returned the pistol to his waistband once again. “Let’s go.”
Alexios’s skin had gone pale and perspiration glistened on his face. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m not going anywhere with you. But I promise, I’ll save you a place in hell.”
Without another word, he turned and climbed the railing, then plunged into the water below.