Chapter 43
John almost tripped over the threshold as he staggered into the back garden. He tried desperately to ignore the memories of the fateful day.
‘John!’ It was Neil’s voice. The security fencing rattled as Neil shook it, trapped on the outside of the building site. ‘Oi! Armed police!’
Sasha paused and turned his head to look towards where the voice was coming from. John felt a slight relax in Sasha’s hold and seized the moment. With a two-handed shove, he threw the Russian to the ground.
‘There’s a gap just down there!’ shouted John, pointing towards the far end of the fencing.
Neil ran the twenty metres or so to the opening, his gun drawn and aimed at Sasha. John pulled Sasha to his feet by the scruff of his jacket collar.
‘You’ve got exactly five seconds to make your mind up, or I’m throwing you to the lions and that goes for your wife and baby too.’
The first shot rang out and screamed past John’s ear. What the hell was Neil playing at shooting at him? In the next second he realised that it couldn’t have been Neil who fired, the shot had come from the other direction. His pushed Sasha to the ground and simultaneously threw himself into the dust, drawing his gun at the same time.
The third shot came from Neil’s gun; the bullet whistling above John, missing its target on the other side.
The fourth shot made contact. John yelled in pain as a searing heat bore into the flesh of his shoulder. He dropped his gun as he writhed in pain. It was only for a second or two but it was long enough.
Neil shouted his name, distracted momentarily. It was all the distraction needed. Pavel Bolotnikov stepped out from behind a concrete pillar and aimed his gun straight at Neil. The semi-automatic pistol sent three rounds to its intended target.
John shook his head, he gasped for breath, throwing his head up to the sky above him. The red blood seemed to stain his vision, everything around him looked crimson.
‘John! John. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m here.’
He could hear Tina’s voice to his left. He turned his head towards her. Her face blurred in front of him. He forced himself to fix on her eyes and listen to her soothing voice of reassurance. Gradually, the distortion faded, the red paled to pink and then washed away to white. It took a supreme effort of concentration on his part, but finally the world around him came back.
He rested his hands on his knees, dipping his head. He felt Tina’s hand on his back, firm yet gentle, small circular movements of reassurance.
‘I’m okay,’ he said, straightening himself up. ‘Really, I’m fine now.’ The look on her face told him she probably didn’t believe him.
‘Let’s sit here,’ she said, guiding him towards the garden bench. ‘What happened that day, John? What is it that tortures you so much?’
John sat down on the bench. His automatic reaction, one honed by years of practice, was to brush the incident off. To put it down to feeling unwell or a hangover or having eaten something that didn’t agree with him. He had told the lie so many times, for so long, he almost believed it himself. It was far easier than having to face up to the real cause.
Something today stopped him. He realised that he had to tell the truth sooner or later. Tina deserved to know what happened that day. She needed to know for her own peace of mind, so that there were no longer any unanswered questions stopping her from moving on. She also needed to know so that she knew everything about him. If he didn’t confess, then there would always be a secret between them.
It was a gamble, an ember of hope. She might never want to see him again, but he knew they had no future while there was a secret between them.
She looked expectantly at him. Pale-blue eyes rested on him. Her face, as always, so easy to read, so open; no shutters hiding her thoughts and feelings.
She listened as he relayed the events of that day to her. Patiently she sat next to him. Her hand a constant reassuring touch, moving from his back and to his head. He felt her body wince as he came to the part where he had chased and cornered Sasha. There was a deep sigh of sadness as he recounted the scuffle. A shake of the head, despair and resignation filtering across her face, emphasised by a dull pain in her eyes. And finally, a sharp intake of breath at Pavel firing the gun. Then her whole body stiffened as she learned of Pavel and Sasha taking flight.
‘I’m sorry,’ said John. ‘Truly, I am.’
She gripped his hand harder. ‘What are you sorry for? You were doing your job. I understand that. I may not like what you have to do or how you have to do it, but I do understand it comes with the territory.’
‘If I hadn’t pushed Sasha into becoming an informer, then he and I would never have been at that building site having that conversation. Neil would never have been there and Pavel wouldn’t have been either. You were right when you said I put Sasha in an untenable position.’