A Rush of Blood

Seventy-seven

‘There’s no response from inside the barn, sir. You probably heard us giving him the megaphone warning to come out. There’s been not a whisper.’

Skinner and Martin could hear Sergeant Doreen McSeveney’s report on the radio that Greatorix held.

‘Is the rear secure?’ he asked.

‘There’s only one entrance; the big sliding door at the front. It’s open wide enough to admit one person.’

‘So Henry could be in there, waiting?’

‘If he’s gone, it wasn’t in his car,’ she pointed out. ‘Anyway, I’m not going to get any older wondering. We’re going in.’

‘Take no unnecessary risks, Doreen,’ Greatorix warned.

‘We won’t. We’ve got a high intensity light with us. The plan is we shine it through the opening. It’ll blind anyone who’s looking into it for long enough to let three of us roll inside.’

‘How about stun grenades?’

‘We’re not the SAS, sir. Besides, it’s a big space in there; they’d be less effective.’

‘OK, go for it.’

Skinner and Martin could see little or nothing in the moonless night, only the dim outline of the barn and the shape of Brown’s car in front of it. They watched nonetheless, waiting, in silence. Then suddenly they saw a burst of bright light, and heard the sergeant’s sharp command, ‘Go!’ though the radio.

They tensed, ready for the sound of shots, but none came: only the sergeant’s voice once more, but different, much less in control. ‘Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck! Get up here, sir. Henry’s here all right. . at least I think it’s him.’