'Press it!' Matt snapped, glancing at Ivan.
Why doesn't the man blow her away?
'Because,' she said, 'only a fool would come here alone.'
Matt froze. The moment the words had escaped her lips, he'd known exactly what she'd meant by it. Inwardly, he started cursing himself. Naturally she would have some protection with her. A woman such as Alison made every calculation and checked every angle before she made a single move. She didn't make mistakes. That was what made her such a formidable opponent.
For half a second he resisted looking towards Ivan. He already knew what he would see, but wanted to delay the moment of confirmation. He saw it first in Alison's expression. A smile of smug satisfaction had spread on to her lips. Slowly he turned his head to the right. Pinky was standing a yard behind Ivan, a pistol in his outstretched hand, the barrel of the gun resting gently on Ivan's ear. Matt looked behind him: Perky was standing two yards behind, a gun lodged into the palm of his hand, pointing directly at his head. From that distance, it would be impossible for him to miss.
You had to hand it to them, they were good.
'Be very careful,' said Pinky, his voice so low it was barely more than a whisper. 'And hand me that trigger.'
The look of anger on Ivan's face intensified: the flame within him had just been turned up. For a brief second Matt wondered whether Ivan was about to blow them all away. His hand dropped away, but his grip on the trigger remained just as tight.
'Give us that trigger right away,' said Perky, his voice booming around the woods. 'Or both of you die. Instantly.'
'Do it!' barked Alison. 'Give him the trigger.'
It's in the tone of her voice, noticed Matt. It doesn't matter what we do. We've threatened to kill her, and that's our death warrant signed, sealed and delivered. She doesn't need us wandering around the world somewhere, with time to plot and plan our revenge. She'll finish us now. If I were her, I'd do the same thing.
'Don't do it, Ivan,' he said.
Matt was surprised by how calm his own voice sounded. Maybe I have reached the point where I don't care any more.
The noose is already wrapped around my neck — I may as well tug at the chord myself.
'She's going to kill us anyway, whether we drop the trigger or not,' he continued, his tone getting harder as the sentence unfolded. 'Hell, if we're about to die, we might as well take her and these two bastards with us.' He chuckled. 'I always wanted the smell of Semtex in the air at my funeral anyway.'
Alison raised both hands, her eyes concentrating on Ivan. 'He's wrong,' she said calmly. 'Put the trigger down, take your money, and go wherever in the world. All debts are paid on both sides. You are free, wealthy men.'
'Don't listen to her,' Matt snapped. 'I've heard a thousand different stories from her lips, and they've all been lies.'
Ivan looked first at Matt, then at Alison. Matt could see he was starting to hesitate.
'The mission was a success,' said Alison. 'Now, let's all pack up and go home.'
We've lost.
TWENTY-THREE
The trigger was still sitting in the palm of Ivan's hand, but his thumb had moved away from the button. A single bead of sweat was dripping down his forehead, past his temple and across his cheek. His mouth was turned down and there was a blank, empty expression on his face: as if, decided Matt, he was all out of tricks.
'I put this down, you'll let us both go, and we'll collect our money and get out of here,' Ivan said, looking directly at Alison. 'That's the deal, right?'
Alison nodded. 'I understand the anger of both of you,' she said calmly. 'But I don't resent it. Like I said, our work is finished and it's time to call all debts paid in full.'
Matt could feel a few drops of rain on his face. He glanced up into the sky. The clouds had grown darker now, obscuring the sun. 'Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?' he said, pronouncing the words slowly and deliberately. 'That's from Corinthians — although I suppose a good Catholic boy would already know that.' He turned to look at Ivan directly. Rain was spitting down from the clouds, lining his face with a thin film of water. 'Funeral psalms. Yours is coming up pretty soon, mate, if you do what she asks. I just thought I'd see what you'd like read out at the service.'
'Don't listen to him,' Alison snapped. 'He's lost it.'
The words passed across Ivan as if he hadn't heard them. 'There were five men when we started this mission, Matt,' he said slowly. 'Now there are only two of us. There's been enough killing. It's got to stop somewhere.' He tossed the trigger into the mud at his feet. 'In a few minutes you and I will be dead as well,' he said. 'It's not an acceptable casualty rate.'
Matt could see Alison flinch as the trigger settled into the mud: it was as if a thousand volts had been shot through her, and every nerve in her body had suddenly jumped. She stepped quickly forwards, moving away from where the bomb was buried. Behind him, Matt could see that Pinky was still holding his gun level with his head.
Alison rushed towards him.
'Do it!'
As the words spat out of her mouth a shot rang out, the noise of the bullet leaving the barrel echoing off the tree trunks all around them. Instinctively, Matt threw himself into the mud, shielding his face with his hands. He waited, counted to three, then realised the bullet had not been aimed at him. He looked up. Five yards ahead of him, Ivan was lying face-down in the dirt, his body crumpled up in agony. The bullet from Perky's gun had impacted just over his left ear, splitting open a wound on the side of his face. Blood was pouring out of him.
You fool. I told you not to trust her.
Matt reached out to grab the trigger device. It was four feet away, lying next to Ivan's fallen body. Alison was six feet to his right. His hand shot through the mud, his fingers stretching to collect the tiny bundle of plastic and wire. Only one thought was racing through his mind: to get to the trigger and to blow the Semtex. Take them all to hell.
Right now, that's the only place I feel like going.
His hand fell five inches short of the trigger, stopping in the pool of blood that was seeping from Ivan's head. He could see Alison moving swiftly towards him. Kicking with his legs, Matt thrust himself quickly forward. Another two inches. .
That's all I need to destroy her.
He smashed his hand down towards the trigger. In the corner of his eye he could see the pale plastic sole of Alison's boot swinging delicately through the air. It caught his index finger, twisting it backwards, sending a sharp jab of pain down his arm. Matt flinched. Alison stamped hard, her boot forcing down the back of Matt's hand. His fist was pressed down into the dirt.
Looking down at him, her expression calm, Alison twisted her heel against the bones in Matt's hand.
He flinched as she bent down and picked up the trigger. She held it in her hand like a rare jewel, examining it with exaggerated care. 'Now, what was it you were saying, Matt?' she said, glancing down at where he lay in the mud. 'Something about how you thought Ivan should just finish me off?'
'Get on with it then,' said Matt, looking up towards Alison. 'You're a busy woman.'
At his side, Pinky jabbed a pistol into his chest. A snub-nosed German-made Walther P22 — the gun was instantly recognisable from the insignia stamped on the tip of its matt black barrel. Five yards behind him, Perky was standing with another Walther, this one aimed at Matt's head.
'I want to know where the money is,' said Alison.