EPILOGUE

Magnus Lund watched Sir Richard Eden cross the floor of his study and pick up the report on his desk. Before the coma he was one of the strongest men he knew, but for the time being at least he was dependent on a cane. Eden shuffled back over to Lund and handed him the file.

“And you’re certain about this?” Lund said as he flicked through the papers.

Eden collapsed down in a soft leather chair and sighed. “All the post-mortem notes are in there, Magnus. The bullet which killed Devlin was marked.”

“Which page?”

“At the end.”

Lund flicked through some more pages until he saw a series of high-definition macro shots of the fatal projectile. A single word was etched neatly into the lead: DEVLIN. Scratch marks from the calibrated barrel crossed through it diagonally, but it was still clear enough to read. As clear as day, just as the message it was intended to send.

“This is a bad development, Richard.”

“You don’t have to tell me that.”

“Any ideas who the shooter was?”

“No. That bullet is probably the most forensically examined object in the history of the science. We know the exact round and the exact weapon that fired it, but it refuses to tell us who squeezed the trigger.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You haven’t turned the page yet.”

Lund flipped over the page and gasped. He was looking at another series of photos of the other side of the bullet that killed Devlin. Etched into it were two more words: WHO’S NEXT?

“We’re in trouble, Richard. This is a vendetta.”

“It’s a professional hit and whoever is behind it is clearly planning on taking out the entire ECHO team, probably including us.”

Lund felt the blood drain from his head and he started to feel dizzy and a little sick. “This can’t be happening.”

“It’s happening, Magnus and get a hold of yourself.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s different for you. You’re a military man. The idea of being hunted by a sniper of this skill is… terrifying to me.”

“I’m not exactly thrilled by it myself.”

Lund stared down at the picture of the bullet.

Who’s next?

He closed the file with trembling hands.

Who’s next, indeed.

THE END
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