Private Royals

Chapter 34

Waldron smiled as he closed the gap. Knight had met his kind before — the sickest members of humanity who could only find pleasure in inflicting pain and suffering on others. In most instances, Knight was as fascinated by them as he was disgusted. On this occasion, seconds away from dying on the man’s blade, his only thought was how to kill the Recon Marine first.

Waldron was on him now, his tobacco-stained teeth showing in a bloody grin. He could see that Knight was trapped in the Ford’s window, maybe paralysed. With nowhere to run, Waldron wanted to take his time in dispatching his victim. It was only the panicked cries of onlookers that brought him back to reality. He’d have to make it swift, so he brought the knife high, aiming to plunge the blade into Knight’s rapidly beating heart. Waldron knew it was over — but he didn’t see Knight’s left hand, or what it had grasped from the car’s cluttered centre console.

Knight’s arm shot out from inside the car like a viper, ploughing a ballpoint pen into Waldron’s neck. The big man staggered back and roared like an injured bull. It wasn’t enough of a wound to kill his opponent, but as Waldron clutched at the pen and blood spilled over his fingers, Knight had precious moments to extract himself from the car window.

‘Call the police!’ he shouted at the frozen onlookers, some of whom were preoccupied with filming the incident. ‘Call the police!’ he shouted again as Waldron came for him, KA-BAR in hand.

Knight sidestepped the first thrust, his body singing out in agony at the sudden movement. Waldron was fast, even with the wound that had left his neck with a bright red scarf of blood. He thrust again and again, but somehow Knight was able to evade the blows, and his confidence began to soar. Perhaps, after all, he could survive long enough for the police to arrive.

It was only when his left hand touched a wall that he realised he’d been played. Waldron had herded him like a sheep.

‘Dumb fuck,’ the Recon Marine growled, enjoying Knight’s shock and driving the blade forward.

This time there was no escaping it.

The knife ploughed into Knight’s midsection. If it wasn’t for the protection of his leather and Kevlar biker jacket it would have driven below his ribs and up into his lungs, but the protective material fought back enough that only an inch of metal penetrated his skin. He gasped in agony, but took the opportunity to deliver a swift headbutt, smashing the bridge of the American’s nose.

Waldron stepped back in surprise, the blade pulling free. Knight followed up his attack, pouncing on Waldron and taking him down to the ground as the bigger man stumbled back on the uneven paving.

For the frightened onlookers, there was no way of seeing who was gaining the upper hand. It was a rapid exchange of punches and elbows — a gutter fight, the blade changing ownership several times as both men fought for life.

But only one of them stood. The other lay bleeding out on the pavement, the KA-BAR blade buried deep in his thigh, his face twisted in terror as he tried in vain to stop the flow.

Some bystanders screamed. Others ran. Some of the younger ones stayed and continued to film.

Through their lenses, they saw a man stagger towards a truck. There was a padlock key in his hand.