Severed

42

I'm pulled back into the darkness of the hallway, the grip tight around my neck, the blade pushing into my flesh. I can't see my captor, but I know it's a woman. I can smell her scent. So I was right about Alannah, I think, without any degree of satisfaction.

The major closes the case and stands in the middle of his study, looking at me. Surprisingly, his expression is one of sympathy.

'I'm sorry it had to come to this, Tyler. Now, drop the gun.'

He's still in my line of fire and I keep the gun pointed at him, recovering now from my shock as my survival instincts kick in. I know that if I do as he tells me, I'm as good as dead.

'No.'

'She'll cut your throat, Tyler, don't think she won't.'

'I know she will, but my last movement'll be to pull the trigger. I'll take you with me, Major.'

She tries to pull me further into the hallway so he's no longer in view, and it's surprising how strong she is, but I resist, even though she ups the pressure on the razor. Any second it's going to cut the skin. I don't want to die like this; I've seen too many victims of her handiwork today. But I'm not going to let the major out of my sight. My finger tenses on the trigger.

'Tell her to stop,' I hiss, conscious of the movement of my Adam's apple against the blade, 'or I'll fire.'

He nods at her, and she relaxes her grip a little.

'It seems we have – what do they call it? – a Mexican stand-off,' he says calmly. 'So, what are we going to do now?'

'Let me go and I'll walk out of here. We both want the same thing. I don't want those bastards to get away with whatever it is they've done.'

He shakes his head. 'But you won't just walk out of here, Tyler, will you? You'll come back for me. I know it.'

He glances over my shoulder, and a silent message passes between him and Alannah. I know he's telling her to take the risk and make the cut. I am a second away from death. But I can't go like this. Not with Leah and Lucas unavenged.

'Wait,' I hiss. 'There's something you should know.'

The major frowns. 'What?'

In one rapid movement, I grab the wrist holding the razor with my free hand and yank it away from my throat. Then I slam my head backwards and drive it into her face. I hear a cry, and she stumbles, but before I can get out of the way the major throws himself at me, grabbing the barrel of the gun. Instinctively, I pull the trigger, the gunshot like a whiplash in the enclosed space. His momentum sends me flying backwards, but I dive to the side to keep out of range of the razor, and we land together on the carpet, with him on top. His face is screwed up in pain, his eyes tightly shut, and he rolls off me clutching his gut where I've shot him.

A gutshot. It's one of the most painful wounds a person can endure, and it can be hours before you die. He bunches himself up into the fetal position, and lies there rocking back and forth.

For the time being he's out of action, so I turn my head in the direction of Alannah. But she's nowhere to be seen. The hallway's empty, the only sounds the major's tight, laboured breathing and the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock.

I lie there in the semi-darkness, the gun stretched out in front of me. Where the hell is she?

A door further down to my right is open. She must be in there. There wouldn't have been any time for her to get any further. I don't want to go inside. This girl's good. Too damn good. But there's no alternative.

Slowly, I get to my feet, my eyes adjusting themselves to the gloom. In the dim light provided by the major's study, I see a huge photo of him and someone else on the wall. Even in my current situation, I can't help but be drawn to the head-and-shoulders shot of the person next to him.

'Oh Jesus,' I whisper, my voice loud in the confines of the hallway.

The person smiling back at me from the picture is a young woman I can only assume is the major's daughter.

And it's not Alannah, it's Leah Torness.