Assassin

40

Tyzack had a vision in his head of how he wanted this to go. He'd make Carver sweat. He'd even give him the illusion that he might get away. But that illusion wouldn't last long. Tyzack had always been the fitter, faster and stronger man: that was one of the many things that had been so unjust about the way Carver had betrayed him. So he'd win, that was inevitable. He'd hunt Carver down, corner him and take him away – he had the place prepared, a farmhouse miles from anywhere. And then, when Carver was tired and hungry, when the arrogance had been knocked out of him and he knew for sure that no one was coming for him, Tyzack would sit down with him and have a little chat. They'd talk about the old days, put a few things straight before Tyzack pulled the plug.

So far, it was all going nicely. Carver had got away from his men in Karl Johans Gate, but that was all part of the game. It would have been a disappointment to catch him too easily. And the momentary illusion of success had only made Carver's failure at the station all the sweeter: it had been a joy to watch him search for the wallet. Only a few minutes gone, and already he was broke. His only shirt was covered with blood, and once he stopped running, he'd feel the evening chill something rotten.

But Carver wasn't going to stop running for a while yet. He'd keep moving till he felt the way they used to on training runs – past the point when you wanted to stop, and the point where you wanted to puke, to the point where you wanted to die. Tyzack would make sure of that.

He'd had enough of leaving it to his men to do the job. As Carver fled from the station, Tyzack stepped out of the fast-food joint from which he'd been observing the main concourse and broke into a steady jog. As he set off in pursuit, Tyzack felt in great shape, well on top of his game. This was a race he was going to win.