Final Days

NINE

South China Sea Airspace, 28 January 2235

‘Tell me, you ever jump out of a plane? Go parachuting, or anything like that?’

Saul glanced at the man opposite: lean and sharp-faced with deep-set eyes, his head jerking slightly from side to side as the sub-orbital slammed through the stratosphere. Saul’s UP floated a tag next to him, identifying the man as Sefu Nazawi.

‘Once,’ Saul replied. His knuckles shone white where they gripped the padded restraints confining his chest and shoulders.

Up until now, the conversation had been distinctly muted, ever since taking off from an airfield in Germany. Saul didn’t need a degree in psychology to know that he was the reason.

He glanced up front towards Hanover, who was leaning over the pilot’s shoulder. The two men were conferring quietly as the craft angled its nose downwards at a terrifyingly steep angle. They were approaching the endpoint of a sharply curving trajectory that had boosted them to the edge of space, before hurtling them back down towards the South China Seas, and nearly ten thousand kilometres to the east.

Sefu looked sceptical. ‘For real?’

‘Why do you ask?’ Saul replied, doing his best to maintain eye contact while the sub-orbital bucked and shuddered with profound violence.

‘Just in case we have to evacuate.’ Sefu barely suppressed a grin. ‘I mean, we’re a long way up and, with all those storms scattered around, we could get ripped to shreds before we reach the ground. It happens.’

‘Shit, yes,’ said the man next to Sefu. Saul registered that his name was Charlie Foster. ‘Did you ever see the UP footage from that guy who fell out of a sub-orbital? The one that came apart just fifteen minutes after take-off?’

‘I did,’ Sefu replied, turning to Foster with a snap of his fingers. ‘His ’chute failed, right? And his contacts kept recording, the whole way down.’

‘Bullshit,’ said Saul.

Foster nodded enthusiastically, gazing at Saul with an innocent expression. ‘No lie. Bastard screamed like a banshee right up until the end.’

Sefu noisily sucked air through his teeth.

‘Hit the ground so hard his skull wound up lodged in his ass,’ Foster added, shaking his head sadly.

Saul considered a variety of responses, most of them anatomically impossible.

The sub-orbital hit a fresh patch of turbulence, lurching like a truck dropping one of its wheels into a deep pothole. Saul drew in a sharp breath and wished he had something to cling on to, as the turbojets grumbled and whined in preparation for the last stage of their descent.

‘And there’s a reason you’re sharing this with me?’ Saul managed to say.

‘Well,’ Sefu replied, ‘I got the impression you weren’t enjoying the flight, for some reason.’

‘Me, I love turbulence,’ said Foster, his eyes wide and happy. ‘It’s like being rocked to sleep by Mother Nature.’

Text, rendered in silver, floated on the lower right of Saul’s vision, telling him that the sub-orbital was now only seven kilometres above the ground, having already dropped nearly fifteen kilometres in the last few minutes. The external temperature was minus seventy, and the air still thin enough to qualify as vacuum.

‘Now Mitchell,’ Sefu continued, twisting around in his restraints to catch the attention of the rest of Hanover’s task force, ‘that son of a bitch was in fucking love with jumping out of things.’

‘Fuck yeah,’ confirmed a woman further down the two rows of seats facing each other on either side the craft’s interior. Her tag read Helena Bryant. ‘I trained with him this one time, when we had to jump from about twelve kilometres up. He got to within maybe a half-klick of the ground before he even started to pull back up. Scared the shit out of me then, but the man was fucking fearless.’

‘Wing-suit, right?’ Saul guessed.

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ she replied. ‘You know what I’m talking about?’

‘Sure,’ Saul replied, assuming an air of false bravado. ‘I even went on a jump with him once, years ago. He’d been daring me for months.’

‘You knew him?’ interrupted another voice over to his right.

‘We worked together way back when,’ Saul replied. ‘Somehow he . . . talked me into it.’

‘Why’d he have to talk you into it?’ asked Sefu. He was still grinning, but there was a shade more respect in his tone. ‘Because you were too chickenshit?’

‘Too sane, I think,’ Saul replied. ‘The dive was made from low orbit.’

That shut them up.

‘Real orbit, or sub-orbital?’ asked Helena.

Saul grinned. ‘Sub-orbital. I’m not that crazy.’

‘That’s pretty dangerous shit nonetheless,’ someone else said.

‘Sure.’ Saul made a point of shrugging, as if to say no big deal. ‘Maybe one in a thousand orbital divers wind up dead, but Mitch and me did it together, from more than twenty kilometres up. We used foam and Kevlar heat shields for the first five kilometres down, then wing-suits the rest of the way.’

Saul recalled the wide wings embellishing the one-piece flying suit. Rigid stabilizers built into each suit kept them from going into a deadly spin as they dropped down through the thickening atmosphere. At the time, he’d thought the experience might cure him of what had then been nothing more than a mild fear of flying, but instead it had made it much, much worse. He’d never even have agreed to it if Mitchell hadn’t been having such a hard time back then, coping with the death of his brother Danny.

Sefu waved a hand in mock dismissal, and several of the task force laughed. Saul felt himself grinning back.

‘So why the fuck do you look like you’re about to crap yourself?’ prodded Sefu.

‘When you jump, you’re in control,’ Saul explained. ‘Being on a plane isn’t the same, though, since your life’s in someone else’s hands. And anyway, it’s been a long while since I rode in a sub-orbital.’

‘Told you,’ said Sefu, looking around at the rest of them. ‘Chickenshit.’ They all laughed, but when Sefu gave him a grin, Saul could see it was much more friendly than before.

Confirmation of Saul’s temporary transfer had come through a few days after his interrogation by Donohue and Sanders.

Almost a week after his meeting with Donohue and Sanders, he’d made his way back through the Copernicus–Florida gate, reacquainting himself with the tug of full gravity and working at rebuilding his muscle strength in a government gym close by his apartment in Orlando. He scored himself some Bad Puppy – a milder derivative of loup-garou – and used it to steady his nerves and kill some of the pain still seeping through despite the medication he’d been given for his injuries. After that, he had hitched a ride aboard a military cargo hopper to an ASI facility near Berlin, where he’d then undergone a brief interview with Hanover in his office.

‘I realize that you knew Mitchell,’ Hanover had said, an operations room clearly visible through a glass pane behind him. ‘It’s too bad what happened to him. You should remember, however, that there’s a reason this is just a temporary assignment for you. Men like Stone are not easily replaced.’

‘I appreciate how that would be the case, sir,’ Saul had replied. ‘Can I ask just what happened to him? All I was told was that he’d been under some kind of secondment when he—’

Saul nodded perfunctorily. There was something distinctly glacial about Hanover’s manner.

‘Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,’ Hanover continued, ‘but you weren’t actually the first name I had in mind. In fact, why my original request was turned down remains something of a mystery to me.’

‘I can only do my best, sir.’

‘It’s more complicated than that. The members of this task force have a level of clearance that you don’t. They’re often engaged in highly classified work which you don’t need to know the details of.’

Saul guessed Hanover was digging for something. ‘It wasn’t my idea, sir. I was reassigned, and that’s all I can tell you.’

Hanover regarded him in silence for a moment before standing up and pulling open the door leading to the outer office. ‘You should know it’s my intention to file a complaint with your superiors. Not because of anything you’ve done, but because I’m concerned at the lack of explanation.’

‘Sir,’ Saul replied, standing too.

‘You’ll report for a final briefing at 0800 tomorrow morning,’ said Hanover. ‘I believe you’ve already been briefed on the essential details of our mission. We’re to recover ASI cargo hijacked from Florida.’

‘I was briefed, sir. Thank you.’

Hanover nodded, but his eyes glinted with suspicion. ‘Good. For as long as you’re with us, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about a lack of action.’

The sub-orbital started to level out just as an alert sounded. Saul pushed his head back, relying on the padded restraints around his shoulders, neck and waist to keep him from being thrown around the cabin like a rag doll. The back of his mouth felt sticky and hot still, with the memory of the Bad Puppy, and he found himself wondering if anyone else in Hanover’s squad was holding. Before long the engines kicked in, sending powerful vibrations rattling through his bones in the moments just before they made their final approach.

‘Everybody get ready to move out!’ Hanover yelled, pulling himself out of his own restraints before heading for the rear hatch. Saul glanced in the direction of the cockpit and caught sight of jungle silhouetted against star-speckled blackness, as they scrambled to disembark.

They dropped down one by one into humid darkness, milling around the small forest clearing in which the sub-orbital had landed on its powerful VTOL jets. The subtropical heat seeped in through Saul’s suit, enveloping his skin like a warm blanket and carrying with it unidentifiable scents. The black outline of a mountain rose to one side; the gentle rush of a river was audible somewhere se by.

The briefing earlier that morning had involved detailed orbital maps of a region in the central mountains of Taiwan, an island nation south of the coast of mainland China. Dozens of villages lay dotted around the slopes and lowlands, most of them accessible only by narrow, winding roads. Industrial compounds and mining operations, mostly abandoned and half swallowed up by the jungle, stood along the banks of every river. A few had been reclaimed by paramilitary groups left over from the days of the Hong Kong blockades, the majority of which continued to enjoy a profitable business partnership with the Tian Di Hui. Given that they were operating deep inside a Sphere-aligned nation, their mission was by necessity a covert one.

Saul first checked his Cobra’s fire parameters, then adjusted the temperature control of his suit until he felt more comfortable. He wasn’t quite the outright object of suspicion he had been when they set out, but he didn’t let himself forget that whoever had tipped off the hijackers was almost certainly standing just a few feet away.

Hanover called for everyone’s attention. ‘Check your UPs now for an updated overlay of the area with the latest intel.’ Saul watched as a shimmering grid of data positioned itself over the surrounding landscape. He pulled the focus back for a moment, until he could see the surrounding region displayed before him in its entirety, all the peaks and valleys painted in false colours.

‘Our destination,’ Hanover continued, ‘is less than a half kilometre along a footpath running beside the river,’ he told them, pointing beyond the sub-orbital. ‘Make sure you’re all properly networked, or I will be very unhappy if anyone gets lost because they didn’t maintain their uplink.’

Computer systems woven into Saul’s suit kept him in constant touch with the rest of the task force, while his mil-grade contacts could switch easily between active IR and thermal-imaging video feeds that were particularly useful in the middle of a darkened jungle.

He took a moment to test his night vision. The jungle flashed green for a second until his contacts again painted the ground and foliage in a variety of false colours. He glanced at the others around him, their eyes showing up as ghostly black dots floating amid pale and featureless faces.

‘I’m having a problem with my A/V uplink,’ said Saul. His contacts were refusing to connect with the task force’s network.

‘Anyone else?’ asked Hanover.

The rest muttered negatives or shook their heads.

‘Then it’s just you,’ Hanover replied. ‘Could be a software issue. Give it a couple minutes to see if it sorts itself out.’

They moved out, following the river downstream and making their way along a narrow path that had once been asphalt but had long degenerated into loose black grit mixed with thick tufts of wide-bladed grass. The failure of his uplink set Saul’s nerves on edge. He couldn’t rule out the possibility someone had saboed the connection deliberately.

Saul caught sight of a snake slipping off towards the river once it scented their approach. Its scales looked as if they had been painted in hallucinatory colours.

Before long they caught sight of a cooling tower and several low buildings constituting part of an abandoned chemical-processing plant. Hanover called a halt and they gathered around him.

‘Tovey, the path splits just before we reach the fence. Take your men around past the first gate, and you’ll find a second gate round on the far side of the compound.’ Bright neon lines appeared on Saul’s map overlay, winding out of sight through the dense jungle. ‘Wait there until we have some idea what we’re up against, then move in the moment you get the signal. The rest of you follow me – we’ll cut through the fence on this side, and enter that way. The main admin building will be closer to our position, and that’s where the sats tell us the trucks and cars are parked.’ He looked slowly around at them all. ‘Remember, we want them alive if possible. Now move out.’

Tovey muttered a quick yessir, and Saul watched as he and his assigned half of the task force hurried away, hunkering low through tall grass that rustled with their passage. Hanover led the rest of them up to a two-metre-high wire fence surrounding the compound, where Saul watched as Sefu and another soldier, using the pale-blue flame of a plasma torch, sliced their way through the thick mesh steel in just seconds.

There were no lights visible inside the compound. The roofs of several of the buildings had collapsed, while bushes and saplings pushed their way out of windows gaping under a half-moon. Tall weeds had fought their way through the cracked concrete base on which the chemical-processing plant itself stood.

Keeping to the shadows, they spread out. The only vehicles Saul could see had clearly been abandoned for as long as the compound itself.

His contacts dropped icons over every building, including the one housing the administration offices, which constituted their primary target. Hanover continued to lead the way, Saul staying to the rear, as he’d been instructed. They turned a corner and, sitting next to the admin building, saw a flatbed with a portable tokamak mounted on the back with cables leading inside. It appeared just as dark and silent as the rest of the compound.

Saul checked for body-heat with his IR, but got nothing more than a few tiny blips of light that probably indicated rats fleeing from their scent. There came a rustling sound from another building, and moments later a flock of birds spiralled into the night sky, flapping furiously and calling to each other as they rose.

The men entered the admin building via three different entrances. There were five floors in all, and two of them were assigned to each floor. Saul followed a Filipino named Geradz Zurc as he searched the ground floor, poking the barrel of his Cobra into room after darkened room, but there was no one to be found.

The building had, however, clearly been occupied recently. When someone turned on the generator, the rooms were suddenly flooded wih light. Zurc swore, and Saul closed his eyes until he could shut down his night-vision. He heard someone muttering an apology over their shared comms.

When he opened his eyes again, he saw loose papers scattered all about, while empty desks had been pushed up against the walls. Saul tapped at the surface of one and a manufacturer’s logo appeared, slowly spinning above the desktop, glowing faintly under the crackling strip lights. A moment’s exploration showed that all its data had been wiped.

Someone had obviously known they were coming.

‘All clear,’ Zurc called over his link.

Saul followed him back to the central foyer, where other members of the task force soon joined them. Hanover was the last to arrive.

‘This place is empty,’ he confirmed, glancing around. ‘At first sight, anyway. But I don’t think they could have cleared out more than a few hours ago.’

‘What about the others, sir?’ asked Sefu. ‘Tovey and the rest are still sitting out there in the jungle, waiting.’

‘No, I just called them in,’ Hanover replied. ‘They’ll scour the rest of the buildings, see if they can turn anything up. In the meantime, I want the rest of you outside.’ He jerked a thumb towards the stairwell. ‘I’m going to take another quick look around myself, to see if I can find anything before we head home.’

Sefu shrugged in assent, and the rest followed him back out into the hot night air, grumbling amongst themselves. After a couple of hours of being trapped in a sub-orbital with nothing to do but look at each other, Saul could sympathize. He settled against a wall, while the others found places to sit or just squatted on the ground.

Saul recalled what Donohue had told him: whoever on Hanover’s team was responsible for supplying the information that led to the hijacking might also be linked to the terrorist action that had stranded Saul himself eighty light-years away from his family.

He thought of the way Hanover had looked at him during their first meeting. Maybe this was just a very tight-knit squad that didn’t take to strangers.

Or maybe it was something else.

Saul came to a decision. Damned if he was going to figure anything out by squatting here in the dark.

‘Hey, where you going?’ asked Helena as Saul stood up, looking around him.

‘Gotta pee,’ Saul replied.

‘There are bushes out front,’ Sefu advised from nearby. ‘Try not to get caught with your pants down, will you?’

Someone laughed and Saul made himself smile in response before heading around one side of the building. Once he was out of sight, he found his way back inside through a side entrance, then made his way past a row of defunct elevators to the stairwell.

He stared up the central shaft towards the ceiling, the staircase spiralling above him. After a few seconds he caught the flicker of a shadow through an open door somewhere on the top floor, followed by the distinct click of a door being closed. It had to be Hanover.

Saul slung his Cobra over his shoulder and started to climb, his gaze fixed upwards in case Hanover reversed direction and started to make his way down again. Saul wasn’t sure what excuse he might give if that happened, but it was a chance he just had to take.

He rested for a few seconds on reaching the top floor, then gently pulled open the door to reveal a corridor beyond. He glanced back the way he had come and found he had a good view of the rest of the compound through a wide window on the other side of the stairwell. He activated his IR filter and saw flickers of red and yellow in the darkness: presumably Tovey’s team searching the rest of the compound.

Saul stepped into the corridor, closing the door gently behind him, unslinging his Cobra once more before moving forward cautiously.

He found Hanover in the last room on the right, his back facing the doorway. Several steel cabinets stood along one wall, and Hanover was busy pulling thick sheafs of paper out of the drawers of one of them, and dumping them in an untidy pile on the floor. Opposite a window overlooking another part of the compound were a series of security screens, all clearly of much more recent manufacture than anything else contained in the room.

One displayed a live video feed of the stairwell. Hanover had known he was coming.

Hanover paused, a bundle of documents grasped loosely in both arms, and turned to glance backwards at Saul. He shook his head with irritation and turned away again, dumping the documents on top of the rest, before opening another drawer and extracting its contents as well.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Saul.

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ Hanover replied over his shoulder. ‘I’m destroying evidence.’ He scattered more documents on the floor.

‘I want you to stop,’ Saul replied, taking a firmer grip on the Cobra. Targeting overlays appeared in front of him, flashing red because he was aiming at a friendly target. ‘Right now, sir.’

Hanover paused, then his shoulders rose and fell in a sigh before he turned to face Saul fully. ‘I knew why they sent you the moment I heard you were coming,’ he said, his tone bitter. ‘Do you like playing the part of a spy, Mr Dumont? Is it everything you hoped it would be?’

‘Why are you destroying evidence?’

‘Mitch is a good man,’ Hanover replied. ‘A thousand times better than you could ever hope to be. Poor bastard was just in the wron place at the wrong time. But, I guess, if it wasn’t you coming after me, it would be someone else. I actually let myself think it might not happen, but here we are.’

He held one hand up to Saul, palm facing outwards, while slowly reaching into a breast pocket with his other hand, and withdrawing a slim black oblong.

‘What is that?’ Saul demanded, training his rifle on Hanover’s chest.

‘Fast-acting incendiary,’ Hanover replied. ‘It’ll turn this office into an inferno in seconds. You won’t want to be here when that happens, believe me.’

‘I want you to put it back in your pocket, sir. You won’t be needing it.’

Hanover smiled and flipped the black object into the air, catching it again on its way down a moment later.

Saul’s heart leaped into his mouth, and he took a step back towards the door.

‘You know why you were sent after me?’ Hanover asked, kneeling to place the incendiary on top of the untidy mound of paper. ‘Because the ASI is looking for someone to blame for this whole fucking mess. But I’m not going to be anybody’s scapegoat, when the end comes.’

Saul’s hands felt warm and damp where they gripped the Cobra. ‘If I have to, sir, I will shoot.’

‘I want you to take a message back to whoever’s paying you, and it’s this: as long as they let me and my family go through to the colonies, I won’t tell the Sphere anything about what’s been really going on. Otherwise, I tell them everything I know: about Tau Ceti, the Founders, the Pacific growth . . . everything. They can’t blame me for whatever happened to that shipment, when it should never have been brought to Earth in the first place. Do you understand me?’

Saul frowned. He had no idea what Hanover was talking about.

Hanover held the incendiary delicately at both ends. ‘See this strip of red paper here, on the side?’ he asked, eyeing Saul. ‘Ten-second timer.’ He took hold of one end of the red strip. ‘You just pull it back, then run like hell.’

‘Let go of it and stand up slowly, or I’ll blow your head off your fucking shoulders, sir. That’s a promise.’

Brilliant light flooded in through the window. Saul saw a flare descending from above the treetops, illuminating the compound in lurid orange.

He turned back to Hanover just in time to see him yank at the strip of paper before hurling the incendiary at him.

Saul ducked back and fired his Cobra at the same time, but the shot went wide, digging chunks of plaster out of the ceiling. The incendiary bounced off his chest and fell to the floor.

Suddenly he was face to face with Hanover, and they struggled for a few moments as Saul tried to stop him reaching the entrance. Hanover kicked him in the knee, sending him sprawling on to the dust and scattered paper before ducking out of the office.

Saul heard the rattle of automatic gunfire somewhere close by.

He stumbled upright and followed Hanover back out of the office, just as it exploded with flames behind him, blowing out the window glass. He felt a wave of heat slam into the back of his neck and threw himself to one side of the doorway with a yell, desperate to put distance between himself and the inferno. When he next looked up, he found himself staring along the barrel of a snub-nosed Agnessa pistol.

‘Easy,’ said Saul, spreading his hands wide, and licking his lips. His Cobra lay just out of reach. ‘You’re the reason my uplink isn’t working, right?’

‘Some things are better without witnesses,’ Hanover replied, his nostrils dilating. He stepped slightly to the side and kicked Saul’s rifle back inside the blazing office. Shouts and more gunfire echoed through the compound outside.

‘Maybe you should tell me just what’s going on,’ Saul replied, keeping his voice even.

‘I already explained myself.’

‘And I don’t know what you were talking about. You said you were a scapegoat, but a scapegoat for what?’

Hanover regarded him with obvious disbelief. ‘You really don’t have any idea what’s going on, do you?’

‘I’m guessing you’re the reason that whoever we came looking for had enough advance warning to clear out before we arrived. If that hijacked shipment was ever here, it’s long gone by now, am I right?’

‘Let me give you some idea of how things really stand, Mr Dumont,’ said Hanover, the muscles in his neck rigid with anger. ‘We’re all dead men now. I’ve seen the world covered in ashes and, sometime very soon, the colonies – Kepler, Newton, all of them – are going to be on their own. They’re going to need strong leadership if they’re going to have any chance of surviving.’

Even from a few metres away, the heat was appalling. Smoke billowed along the ceiling of the corridor, until Hanover ducked in order to avoid it.

‘You’re talking about the separatists, right?’ Saul guessed.

Hanover laughed again, louder. ‘No.’ He swallowed, and for a moment Saul thought the man was about to start crying. He watched the barrel of the Agnessa wobble just centimetres away from his face.

‘No,’ Hanover repeated, regaining some of his composure. ‘Now listen to me carefully. Local government forces are storming tund. They’re going to take us into custody. Your job is to go back home with your tail between your legs, and deliver my message. Is that clear?’

He’s crazy, thought Saul, realizing in that moment that he might very well be about to die. He watched with numb fascination as Hanover took a firmer, two-handed grip on his weapon.

‘Sir?’

Hanover twisted around sharply to see Helena Bryant standing at the far end of the corridor, her face smudged and dirty, one hand clutching a wound in her shoulder. From the expression on her face, Saul guessed she’d been standing there long enough to hear most of what Hanover had said.

Hanover brought his pistol around and fired; the bullet caught her in the jaw, ripping bone and flesh away and exiting through the back of her skull. Helena staggered back against the side of the corridor, her body jerking once before slumping lifeless to the floor, like a discarded rag doll.

Hanover quickly brought the Agnessa round to bear on Saul again, motioning him to move back towards the stairwell. Saul complied, crouching to keep his face beneath the billowing smoke and almost stumbling over Helena’s corpse.

‘What’s going to happen to the rest of your people?’ asked Saul, as they entered the stairwell.

‘They’ll die honourably,’ said Hanover. ‘And if you don’t keep moving, you’ll be joining them.’

Saul looked through the window across the stairwell, and spotted yet more flares tumbling down, staining the buildings and surrounding jungle orange. He heard voices calling to each other in Mandarin, then realized the gunfire had ceased.

‘Go on,’ said Hanover, waggling his pistol towards the stairs. ‘Head on down.’

Saul didn’t move.

‘Didn’t you hear me? Get the hell down there,’ Hanover snapped. ‘And when – if – you get back home, take my advice: pack a bag, head for Florida, pick a colony and go there. Any damn one.’

‘I can’t leave until I get some real answers,’ Saul replied.

‘Don’t try me, son,’ Hanover grated. ‘I’ll shoot you, too, if I have to.’

‘But then who’ll deliver your message for you?’ Saul asked, noting there was now barely a metre separating him from the other man. ‘And what exactly is it that you think is going to happen?’

‘I said don’t try my—’

Saul pushed off with his right foot, slamming the heel of one hand into Hanover’s jaw. He saw the other man’s knuckles whiten as they squeezed the trigger, and twisted his body out of the way as the bullets slammed into the floor and the walls.

Hanover grunted and fought back, but Saul had the advantage now. He hit Hanover hard in the belly, and the Agnessa spun out of his hand. Saul dived for it, landing on the floor and twisting around to aim it up at Hanover – only to find him staring back down at him with an expression of infinite contempt.

In that same moment, Saul heard the sound of the safety being taken off several rifles.

He twisted around to see half a dozen Taiwanese soldiers in fatigues, their weapons levelled at him, the red dots from their laser sights dancing across his chest.

‘If I were you,’ Hanover wheezed from behind him, ‘I’d think really hard before moving so much as a fucking muscle.’