Eeny Meeny

112

It was raining hard now – a storm had broken and the falling water lashed Helen as she raced towards the tower. It was as if the weather was filled with the same fury that drove Helen onwards.

The water running off her visor blurred the view, so when Helen first saw her, she appeared ghostly, like a vision of some kind. At first she thought it was the Arrow rep coming to meet her – but then she realized it was a woman. Immediately she tensed, slowing the bike and reaching for her gun.

Then suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She clamped her eyes shut, then opened them again, willing herself to be wrong. But she wasn’t wrong. She skidded to a halt, jumped off and ran over to the drenched and semi-naked figure.

Charlie lurched past as if she didn’t recognize her. Helen grabbed hold of her arm, hauling her back towards her. Charlie turned and with savage anger in her eyes tried to bite Helen on the face. Helen pushed her off, slapping her hard. The blow seemed to stun Charlie, who now sank to her knees. Bedraggled and unclothed, she was a nightmare version of the perky officer Helen had once known.

‘Where?’ Helen’s question was blunt and uncaring.

Charlie couldn’t look at her.

‘He did it. It wasn’t me. He did it to save me…’

‘WHERE?’ Helen roared.

Tears were now pouring down Charlie’s face. She lifted her right arm and pointed to Chatham Tower.

‘The basement,’ she said, her voice cracked and feeble.

Helen left her where she knelt, sprinting towards the tower. She released the safety catch on her gun as she ran through the unlocked site entrance. There was no place for strategy or caution here. She had to find Mark.

She pushed the possibility that he was already dead to the back of her mind – surely there was time to save him? There had to be. In an instant, Helen realized that she had had feelings for Mark. Not love yet, but something warm and good that could have grown. Maybe they’d been brought together for a reason. Maybe they were supposed to save each other and repair the damage of the past.

She burst through the entrance and scanned wildly about her. Then she was sprinting across the atrium, kicking open the door next to the lifts. Down, down, down she went, taking the stairs three at a time.

Now she was in the basement. She kicked open the first door to find… an empty cupboard. No, that wouldn’t be right, the door wasn’t strong enough to hold anyone inside, she would have needed… Then Helen saw it – the reinforced metal door that swung on its hinges. Helen raced down the corridor and hared inside.

As she entered her knees gave way and she collapsed to the ground. She had seen Mark. And she had seen the worst. Slowly she raised her head, but it was no better on second sight. Mark lay in a pool of his own blood. Mark was dead, the gun that killed him still clutched in his hand. Helen scrambled across the filthy floor to him, cradling his head in her arms. But he was cold and still.

A loud bang and Helen looked up. Who had she been expecting? Charlie? Bridges? It was Marianne, as she knew it must be.

‘Hello, Jodie.’

She smiled as she locked the door behind her.

‘Long time no see.’