Severed

43

She comes out of the door like a wraith, dressed in black, the blood running from her nose like melted tar where I struck her with my head. No longer the sweet young thing with the smile and the button nose from the supermarket, but a pale-faced killer with a gaze of stone.

I am still reeling from the shock. So the video I saw was a complete fake, and now the final pieces of the jigsaw puzzle are coming together. It was Leah I must have met on Thursday evening, who managed to lure me here for the set-up, although she took a risk calling me from her father's landline. And God knows which poor Eastern European sex slave I woke up beside the following morning, but the reason her head was missing is simple enough: so that I'd go to my grave thinking that the woman I loved was dead.

And that woman is here now and as I stare at her, still trying to come to terms with what I'm seeing, her right arm flashes up like a striking snake, the movement so swift it's almost a blur, and this time there's no razor in it but a pistol with silencer attached. I know Leah's going to fire, but, even with the gun pointed at me, I've been hit so hard by the huge and terrible extent of her betrayal that I'm unable to react. Only yesterday I loved this woman. She was the one I genuinely wanted to build a future with. And all the time, all the time… The lie simply refuses to sink in.

But my hesitation's a mistake, because Leah Torness's eyes are utterly devoid of mercy. I see the flash of light, and the shot hisses out of the silencer. I'm knocked sideways and sent spinning. I stumble into the major's body, hit the wall and collapse to the floor, dropping my gun in the process. I've been hit in the shoulder.

The pain is like nothing I've ever experienced. It feels like someone's poured petrol into the wound and set it on fire. I grit my teeth and shut my eyes. I've lost. After coming so close, I've finally lost.

When I open them again, Leah is bent down beside the major. 'It's OK,' I hear her whisper, her voice suddenly full of emotion, reminding me of how she used to talk to me. 'We'll get you help.'

Then she stands above me, the silencer pointing down towards my face. The end of it is barely three feet away.

My mouth goes dry. The pain is roaring through me in waves. After everything I've been through, I have no energy left to fear my fate. When she pulls the trigger again, it'll all be over. I'll be joining Lucas, Ferrie, Snowy and so many other comrades from down the years.

'My father always said you were a good soldier, Tyler, which is why you'll die quickly.'

'Why?' I whisper, and I'm not asking the reason she's going to kill me. That part feels strangely irrelevant. What I want to know is why did she pretend to share so much with me? Why did she let me make love to her? Why did she tear me apart when I'd never done a thing to deserve it? But she doesn't answer, maybe because she can't, and I know it's the end.

I clench my teeth and tense, waiting for the inevitable impact, determined not to close my eyes. Making her watch me in these last seconds, and hunting desperately for any tiny chink of emotion in her eyes to show that somewhere deep down she feels a twinge of regret about what she has to do… but there's nothing.

Nothing at all.

The front door flies off its hinges and lands with a crash on the carpet, and a blinding white light like a lightning strike fills the room. Leah's eyes widen and she stumbles, dazed by the flash grenade, before regaining her footing and staring at the door.

There follows a shout that for the first time actually fills me with relief. 'Armed police! Drop your weapon!'

'Drop your weapon! Drop it now!'

The silencer's still pointed at my face. Is she going to pull the trigger? One last, murderous act of defiance?

But no. In one movement, she swings the gun away from me towards the door, the idea of surrender as alien to her as it was to her father.

This time, however, her luck finally runs out. Two angry bursts of automatic weapon fire shatter the silence, and Leah disappears from view. Just like that. Gone in an instant.

Again, there's that long second of silence when everyone stops to draw breath, and then the shouting and activity start as people pour into the hallway.

Someone leans over me, his face close. 'You're going to be all right, mate,' he says, but the pain is so intense I'm not sure I believe him. He moves aside and calls for medical help. 'This one's been shot as well,' I hear him shout. 'Shoulder wound.'

I no longer care. I'm beginning to black out now, and I'd welcome unconsciousness with open arms if only I could lift them. But my whole body feels like lead. People move across my vision, but they seem to blur into one another like watercolours in the rain. Only one stands out. She has long blonde hair. I squint, try to concentrate my gaze, anxious to see if it's her or not. It's difficult to tell. She has her back to me. And it's too late. I'm going. Going…

Gone. One week later