'Three.'
Whatever happens, he says he's going to kill Nancy.
'Two.'
My family is my world, my life, my everything.
'One.'
Please God don't let me fail them.
'Zero.'
85
'Howie! Howie! Give me your fuckin' gun!' shouts Jack.
The FBI man doesn't question what's happening, he unholsters his automatic and throws it to him.
Jack jams the pistol in his belt, sprints around the corner of the cul-de-sac and reaches the front of the house.
A big double garage at the end of the short drive faces him.
It's undoubtedly locked.
That leaves a solid wooden front door and a bay window that may both be rigged to explode.
It has to be the window.
The curtains are drawn.
Drawn curtains can hide a nasty surprise.
Jack spins around and checks the garden.
Ornamental rocks around a flowerbed. They will do.
He picks the largest and shot-putts it through the lower pane of the window. He stands back.
Nothing.
The window frame and the floor behind it must be safe.
Jack tears off his jacket, wraps it around his right forearm and uses it to batter out enough glass to squeeze his body through.
If he'd had time, he would have cleaned away the glass and put his jacket down on the jagged edges while he climbs in.
But there is no time.
He hauls himself up and feels shards of glass spike into his hands and knees as he clambers through.
He beats off the curtain as it wraps itself around him but it clings tight and sends him tumbling clumsily to the floor.
By Jack's reckoning he's already lost a minute of the five he's been given.
Two hundred and forty seconds left. That's all.
The room he's in is completely empty of furniture or carpeting. He runs across the wooden floor and pauses at the door.
It's locked.
And Jack is sure it's wired as well.
He stands back, releases the safety on Howie's gun and empties a shot into each of the hinge areas.
Nothing happens.
He levels the pistol at the lock and lets off another round.
There is a loud explosion.
The door bursts into flames and metal pieces of the lock fly at Jack like shrapnel.
Something rips into the side of his face, stinging and burning.
He feels his knees buckle and reaches out a hand.
Spider watches with amusement.
One minute and twenty seconds gone.
King may just reach the girl in time. Now won't that be interesting!
Spider shakes Nancy. 'Wake up and watch! You're about to see your failure-of-a-husband fail again.'
Nancy is groggy. Her eyes can barely focus on the computer's screen.
Jack, be careful. Please don't die. Please don't let us die.
Her thoughts are all muddled. She is dizzy and everything is blurred and spinning.
The anaesthetic swirls inside her, dragging her into a sickly fog of unconsciousness.
Zack, where's Zack? Where's my baby? Jack steadies himself, then plunges through the flames.
Where?
Where next?
The lounge is empty.
He can see the room leads off into a kitchen and he starts to move that way.
This must surely lead to the garage and the stairs to the basement must be back there somewhere.
The kitchen has three doors.
One into the garden?
One into the garage?
And the third one? Into the basement?
Jack studies door three. He presumes it's locked. He quickly examines the door's round handle. It's brass and entirely unlike the others he's just seen.
It doesn't fit, Jack. Brass is the best conductor of electricity you can have. He's wired that handle to the mains. Touch that and you'll be cooked alive.
The door is thick pine; he knows he can't take it out with his shoulder.
Jack glances around the kitchen. The worktops are empty except for a knife block and a red plastic bowl for washing pots in.
The bowl!
He grabs it and fills it with water. Then, with Howie's gun tucked back into his belt, he stands well clear and throws the water over the handle of the door.
Somewhere behind the door he hears a crackle, then a 'phudd', which he hopes is the sound of an electrical appliance short-circuiting.
It's safe.
Isn't it?
If he's wrong, then Jack knows the water on the floor and around the door will help electrocute him.
It's a risk he has to take.
He pulls out Howie's Glock and blows away the brass handle and lock.
Four more shots take care of the heavy hinges.
Jack kicks at the slab of splintered pine and it gives way, tumbling into the blackness that leads into the basement.
Jack steps over the threshold.
Into the darkness. Spider checks his watch.
Two minutes gone.
'Look! Jacky boy is really trying. Sweet, isn't it?' He pulls Nancy's hair and pushes her face towards the computer screen.
Nancy stays unconscious. The anaesthetic has soaked into her brain and she's blacked out. Her body is limp and unaware of what's happening to her, her husband or her child.
'Wake up! Wake up and watch, you fucking bitch!' Spider slaps her. 'You fucking whorebitch, you're supposed to see this.' Anger erupts inside him. He wants to smash the computer into her miserable face. He wants to use the knife. He needs to carve her up and ease the pain that's awake and starting to crawl around inside him.
Kill her now, and the pain will go!
No!
Control yourself.
You know you have to control yourself. Mother will help you.
Mother is nearby.
You can kill the woman later.
Kill her slowly.
Kill her nicely.
But not now.
Right now, forget about her and the child and watch Jack King die. The splintered door slides down the basement stairs like a runaway sledge. It smashes into something hidden in the darkness and slams to a stop.
Another door, guesses Jack. It's hit a second door at the bottom of the stairs that will be locked too.
And remember the girl is tied up. What are you going to free her with?
Jack quickly steps back into the kitchen and grabs a large carving knife from the wooden block on the worktop. He returns to the basement steps, his feet feeling their way down through the blackness.
The door in front of you will also be wired. Careful you don't touch it. Careful you don't touch the walls either, there may be a handrail that's rigged to a second electrical device inside the basement itself.
Jack takes another step down the creaking wooden steps.
And then another.
Suddenly, the ground goes from beneath him. The whole staircase collapses.
Jack's head smashes against something hard. A dull agony thumps through his back and chest. Nausea overwhelms him and he feels his mind going slack.
Fight it! Fight it! You have to stay conscious. Spider laughs louder than he's done since he was a kid.
This is wonderful!
Pure slapstick!
The fool is like a clown in a circus, falling over things with perfect timing.
He glances at his watch.
Three minutes gone.
'I don't think Hubby is going to make it,' he says to Nancy, who is still unconscious.
'A shame you can't see this. Your man's final humiliation. It really is something to behold.'
Something even more delicious occurs to Spider.
He can make the child watch.
Yes, somehow that is even more fitting.
The child of Jack King forced to watch his own father's humiliation and death.
Thank you, Mother, you always make things work out for the best.
Spider reaches for the boy.
But he isn't there.
The child is gone. Jack has no idea how far he's fallen. The only thing he's certain of is that he dropped both the knife and the gun as he crashed through the disappearing staircase.
Time. You're running out of time!
He drags himself to his feet.
He can see light.
He's facing the wrong way. He's looking back up the stairs towards the kitchen. Jack turns around and waits a couple of seconds to steady himself and let his eyes adjust to the darkness in front of him.