Tripping over an exposed root, Carlyle fell backwards. Looking up, he focused on a patch of grey sky between two trees. I need to see blue sky, he thought, spitting out a lump of phlegm. I need to see blue sky again before I die.
Falkirk fell on top of him before the inspector could move. With one hand on Carlyle’s neck, he brandished the knife in front of the policeman’s face. ‘You should have done what you were told and left well alone,’ he hissed. ‘Because now you will die.’
Feeling all the energy drain from his body, Carlyle closed his eyes and waited. Still there was no sign of sirens coming to his aid.
What he did hear was the click of the safety-catch on a semi-automatic being released.
‘Get up!’
Carlyle opened his eyes to see Ihor Chepoyak pulling Falkirk up by the collar of his T-shirt. Dressed in full combat gear, complete with green and black face-paint, Ihor had the barrel of a Fort-12 CURZ pistol gently caressing the Earl’s temple.
‘Throw away the knife.’
Doing what he was told, Falkirk threw the Swiss Army knife into a muddy puddle about three feet away. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, a nervous quaver betraying any attempt to sound indignant.
‘I’m here to kill you,’ Ihor said, almost apologetically.
‘Why?’ Falkirk asked, his bottom lip visibly trembling now.
‘Why? Why?’ Ihor made a face. ‘This is not like one of those movies where you have to explain everything just to give the victim time to escape. What does it matter anyway? Your life has less than a minute left to run. Less than ten seconds, in fact.’
‘But-’
‘But nothing.’ Ihor pulled the trigger, and the crack of the 9mm Kurz round sent the birds flying from the surrounding trees. Slowly, Falkirk keeled over into the undergrowth, a surprised look on his face.
Ihor turned to Carlyle. ‘Not at all like the movies, huh?’
‘No.’ Thinking of Shen and Merrett, Carlyle remembered rule number one — always humour the man with the gun. ‘When it comes to the cinema, I’ve always been a fan of more violence and less dialogue myself,’ he said.
‘Me also,’ said Ihor.
Now at last he could hear the fucking sirens. This had been a truly outstanding effort by the Swiss police.
‘Time for me to go,’ Ihor declared. He saw Carlyle eyeing the Fort-12 nervously. ‘Don’t worry,’ he grinned, ‘I’m not going to pop you. Olga gave me strictest instructions that you were not to be hurt.’
Feebly trying to massage away his headache, Carlyle rubbed the back of his neck. Not hurt was stretching it a bit, but at least he was still alive. ‘Olga?’
The sirens grew louder.
‘She likes you,’ Ihor smirked. ‘It is your good fortune that you are already married!’
The sirens suddenly stopped and were soon replaced by shouting and a general commotion somewhere in the middle distance. Presumably the gendarmes would be here within a few minutes.
Ihor helped Carlyle to his feet. ‘You didn’t see me.’
Carlyle looked down at Falkirk sprawled on the ground with a bullet in his brain, and liked what he saw. He shook his head.
Ihor tapped the handle of the pistol. ‘Also, this is the same weapon as the one used in London, so no ballistics comparisons.’
Carlyle thought about Merrett and Shen. What about justice for them? Surely he owed them better than this shabby deal?
Seeing how the inspector’s mind was now working, Ihor gripped the pistol tightly. ‘I gave you Falkirk,’ he said slowly. ‘He was the main man. Either we are even, or there is a problem. .’
Carlyle stared at the gun. Under the circumstances, ‘even’ sounded good. He nodded. ‘Understood.’
‘Good!’ Ihor stuck the pistol in the waistband of his combat trousers and extended a hand.
Carlyle shook it. ‘Thank you.’
‘It’s nothing.’ Ihor shrugged. ‘You were lucky. If you want my advice, maybe being a policeman is not right for you.’ He spat in the direction of Falkirk’s corpse. ‘Not if a guy like that can get the better of you. You should really think about doing something else.’
Carlyle laughed weakly. ‘Maybe you’re right.’
The shouting was louder now. Carlyle reckoned that they must be almost into the forest, perhaps less than a 100 metres away.
‘I’d better get going,’ Ihor said. He turned and began jogging away, heading along the trail. In less than ten seconds, he was out of sight. Wearily taking a seat on a fallen tree, the inspector waited for his rescuers to arrive.