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“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I tell her, though more for Tony’s benefit than hers. “You need to give this up or my friend standing behind you could get angry. That’s never pretty.”
A startled frown creases her forehead. “You think I’m an idiot.”
“That remains to be seen. Why don’t you turn around and have a look?”
She shakes her head. “You’re bluffing. I told you, you’re under arrest on suspicion of the murder of…these men. You need to—”
Tony closes the distance and reaches around her to grab the gun. Moses and I both dive to the floor as the weapon goes off, moments before it clatters to the flags beside me.
I roll over, grab it, and check. She didn’t even get the safety catch off.
The struggle between Tony and Ruth is short and decisive. She’s on her knees at his feet, her arms behind her back. She lets out a pained cry when he tightens his grip, wrenching her shoulder sockets.
I get to my feet. “Okay, you can let her go.”
Tony’s eyes narrow. He looks from me to the girl on the floor, then back again.
I nod sharply. He releases her and steps back.
I offer her my hand. “Get up, Ruth.”
“I don’t need your help.”
I shrug. “Fair enough. On your feet.”
She rises slowly, warily, her faze flitting from me to Moses, then to Tony. She’s still wearing just my jacket which reaches as far as her hips. She hugs it to her. “You won’t get away with this. You…you need to let me go, before things become worse. Even more serious…”
“Do I?” I raise an eyebrow. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. Meanwhile, let’s get you back to your cell.”
“No!” She whirls around as if to make a run for it but slams right into Tony.
“Now who’s making things worse? Come on, Ruth.” I take her elbow and propel her from the cell.
Out in the corridor, she almost trips over one of the bodies slumped against the wall. I steady her and manage to herd her back into her cell without further trouble. She stumbles over to the bench and sinks onto it as her legs finally give way. She’s shaking when she peers back up at me.
“What now?” she asks.
A good question. I provide the only answer that springs to mind. “Now, we wait. You stay here and cause me no trouble, and you might just survive the night.”
“But—”
“I’ll arrange for some food, and maybe a blanket. Remember, behave yourself.”
I lock the cell door.Tony and Moses are in the process of dragging the bodies out of the way.
“Did you call in a clean-up team?” I ask, grabbing the ankles of a burly Russian corpse to help manhandle it onto the pile of dead flesh at the foot of the stairs.
“Yeah,” Tony grunts. “They’re on their way. Ethan, too. With Aaron and Megan. They should arrive in about twenty minutes.”
The distress call I sent out will have been picked up on Caraksay, and Ethan will have responded despite being a chopper ride away. The mention of our resident medic alarms me.
“How many casualties do we have?”
“Rome and I did a count as we came through the house. Ritchie and George both took bullets, but nothing fatal. All the Russians are dead, including the two drivers left outside in the cars. We ran into them when we got back. Fucking idiots didn’t expect anyone else arriving, so we took them unawares.”
We stride over the bodies and make our way back upstairs. The dining room has been brought into service as a temporary field hospital. As well as the two men with bullet wounds, we have a couple of minor knife injuries and what looks to me like a set of broken fingers. All in all, not too bad.
“Anyone need a beer?” This from Rome, who can generally be relied on to see the lighter side of things.
