Doors Open

‘I’ve been in this goddamned country too long,’ Hate was saying. ‘All I want to do is go home – whether I get my client’s money or not.’ He’d turned towards Calloway, a sudden sneer making his face even uglier. ‘I know Edvard will be keen to hear about the fake you were going to try to fool him with.’

‘I’ve told you a dozen times, I didn’t know it was a fake!’ Calloway growled. But then his own face lost some of its tension as he realised what Hate had just said.

‘You haven’t told him?’ he asked with ominous calm.

‘Just get me the money and he need never know.’

‘But I’m already in negotiations,’ Calloway was saying. Mike saw that the gangster was looking towards Westie. Yes… because the Hell’s Angels back in Scandinavia did a lot of international trading, and fine art made for useful collateral. On Calloway’s instructions, Westie was going to make more fakes with which to dupe Hate’s employers… and those same employers didn’t know as yet that they’d been tricked with the Utterson…

Mike was impressed. He could see Calloway calculating all the possibilities and permutations in an instant. And when he made his move, it was lightning fast, too. Hate had turned away from him to face the line of hostages again, trying to decide who would be first to die. He didn’t hear the snooker cue being lifted from the table, didn’t feel the change in air pressure as it was swung at the back of his head. The force of contact snapped the wood in half with a crack, splinters falling into Mike’s lap. Alice screamed, and Laura gave a little yelp. The giant stumbled and almost fell on top of Mike, but he didn’t go down, not quite. Calloway started raining blows from behind, yelling for his henchmen to come and help him. The door opened and one man ran in.

‘Joh

‘About fucking time,’ Joh

‘Don’t leave me!’ Alice yelled at him.

‘I’ll get help,’ he gasped, the heel of one shoe squeaking against the floor. As he moved, he left a slight trail in his wake and Mike was reminded – suddenly and absurdly – of a snail begi

As for Jimmy Allison… his shoulders were heaving with a crazed species of laughter at the unfolding spectacle as Joh

‘Where the hell’s Gle

‘Thought he was right behind me.’ The reply came from between gritted teeth, as Joh

‘I’m going to kill you all,’ he spat, his voice hoarse. ‘And then I’m going home.’

‘Your employers won’t like it,’ Mike said coolly, ‘if you don’t take them their money. Remember – I’m the guy who can deliver it.’

But Hate was shaking his head. ‘A photograph of the corpses will suffice.’

‘You don’t think the police will show an interest?’

‘I’ll be long gone.’ He looked around him again. ‘Calloway has to die, and there can’t be witnesses.’ Hate pointed towards Mike. ‘I’ll be saving you till last, my friend.’

‘Does that make me the weakest?’

‘You’re all weak! This whole city is weak!’ Hate threw his head back ceilingwards and gave a little groan – not, it seemed to Mike, of pain, but rather of dismay at the blunt stupidity encountered so far on his adventure. ‘Someone like Calloway… he’s an idiot, and yet somehow he gets to be in charge? You’re fools, the lot of you.’

‘You might have a point.’

‘Oh, I do.’ A grin spread across the blood-smeared face as Hate reached behind him, into the collar of his shirt. Slowly he pulled out a slender, gleaming knife and started to survey his kingdom. Calloway, unconscious on the floor, blood trickling from one ear. Joh

‘Best thing you can do,’ Mike stated, ‘is walk away from here before Gle

‘Gle

‘Calloway has two bodyguards, remember. You might not have much time.’

‘He’ll find his boss dead, along with the rest of you.’

Mike came to the conclusion that at long last he had run out of options. His only hope was to charge at the man, try ramming his head into his stomach. He knew it was hopeless, but what else was there? Hate himself seemed to realise this and gave a soft chuckle. Mike turned towards Laura. She was trying hard to hold back the tears.

‘Not exactly how I’d hoped things might work out for the two of us,’ he apologised.

‘As second dates go, I’ll admit I’ve had better.’

Westie, who’d started struggling against his bonds again, had keeled over on to the floor for a second time. Alice wasn’t far off joining him. Allison was still chuckling to himself, eyes screwed shut, sanity evaporating. And all of this for a few paintings, Mike thought. All because I was bored, pampered, infatuated, and greedy.

And tricked by the greater villain – Professor Robert Gissing.

It galled him to think that Gissing was dodging all of this, enjoying his retirement surrounded by however many masterpieces. Cocktails on the patio and lazy days in the sun…