Assassin

37

Carver's shirt was sticking to his skin, glued by the blood that seeped from the incision in his back. A wound in the back was the mark of a coward and a quitter, he thought bitterly, and he could hardly argue with that description. He was running away. He was running from the King Haakon Hotel and the savagery that had been unleashed there. He was fleeing from Tyzack's vengeance; from Thor Larsson, who was still trying to chase him down the street; and from Maddy Cross, somewhere behind him in the chaos. He was getting away from his attacker and putting as much distance as he could between himself and the ones he loved. He hoped they would understand that he was doing it for them, saving them from being infected by his guilt.

He needed to go faster.

Beyond the hotel Karl Johans Gate rose uphill and became a pedestrian zone. There were no cars or motorbikes anywhere. But Oslo is a city of bicycles and many of the people who'd been drawn to the explosion by ghoulish curiosity or a more noble desire to help had simply flung their bikes to the ground when they got close. Carver grabbed one of them and started pedalling.

Carver stood up in the saddle and pumped his legs to get him over the top of the hill. Above him a sign flashed the word 'Freia' in swirling script, while a multi-coloured fan of neon lights provided a constantly changing backdrop of red, blue and white that echoed the flashing lights of the police cars, ambulances and fire engines now pulling up outside the hotel.

The people that Carver slalomed around as he rode against the human tide had been hoping for a fun night out. Now they seemed listless, numbed by what had happened and uncertain how they should react. Some were still moving towards the hotel. Others just stood in the street, bereft of the power of decision. Yet others had shrugged their shoulders, accepted that there was nothing they could do and were heading back to their drinks.

He was over the crown of the hill now, and the land fell away in front of him, the broad promenade lined on either side by bars, souvenir shops and clothing stores selling T-shirts and cut-price denims. Carver was pretty sure that the main station was somewhere at the bottom of the slope. He was hoping he could get a night train out of the country, across the Swedish border. Carver was a big fan of the European railway system. The tickets could be bought in cash. There were no customs or passport controls across a vast swathe of the continent, from the northernmost tip of Norway to the furthest-flung Greek island. Trains were a fugitive's best friend. In the street outside the King Haakon, Thor Larsson put a comforting arm around Maddy's shoulder. 'I'm sure Sam's fine,' he said. 'He'll be back, don't you worry.'

'But he left, and then that happened…' She stared up at the ruined hotel, round which police were rapidly creating a formal crime zone while firemen and paramedics ventured into the rubble in search of victims and survivors. Maddy had been calling out to any of their number who came near her, begging for information about Carver, but never getting a reply.

She looked at Larsson, her eyes no longer cool and knowing but wide with uncertainty and apprehension. 'I don't understand. He hasn't come back. I think he's in there somewhere. We've got to find him.'

Larsson strengthened his grip as she tried to run towards the wreckage. 'It's all right,' he said, doing his best to sound calm, repressing any hint of the anger seething inside him. He wasn't going to tell Maddy that he had seen Carver and that he'd been dashing away from the hotel, leaving them both to their own devices. He wasn't going to call his friend a coward. Not after all that they'd been through. Not to his girlfriend. Not yet.

'Really,' he went on, 'Sam's been in far worse situations than this. He always pulls through.'

'Then why isn't he here?' she asked, with simple but undeniable logic. 'Why hasn't he come back for me?'

It wouldn't be long now, Larsson realized, before her confusion and fear gave way to resentment. For now, she was concerned about Carver. Soon, she would start wondering whether he had deserted her when she needed him most.

'Come on,' he said. 'There's nothing we can do here. We need to be somewhere that Sam will know to look for us. We'll go back to the hotel. That's the best place now.' In the front passenger seat of his car, Damon Tyzack burst out laughing as he was given the latest report on his mobile phone. 'He's on a bicycle? Are you sure? Oh, that's priceless. Who does he think he is, ET? Well, just make sure he doesn't fly away, then.'

Tyzack snapped the phone shut and looked out of the window, shaking his head. 'The great Samuel Carver reduced to riding a pushbike,' he said, talking to himself as much as his driver. 'My, my… aren't we coming down in the world?'