Page 98 of Savage Warrior

“Wait,” I yell after them. “What about Natalija? Is she…?”

“She was on board,” is all Jack says as he jogs towards the waiting helicopter.

“Can I come? Please, let me come with you.” I hobble after them.

Cristina waits for me at the steps leading up into the aircraft. “All right.” She calls to an ashen-faced Faith who has arrived with the rest of the household. “Look after the boys, will you? Yuryl, too.”

Faith nods, hugging the children to her. “Send news when you can.”

Cristina simply nods and helps me up the steps.

The helicopter holds six, as well as the pilot. Besides me, Cristina, and Jack, we have Megan and two men I have not seen before.

“This is Mickey, and that’s Nico,” Cristina supplies before I ask.

Both incline their heads in greeting.

“This is Arina. Rome’s girlfriend,” she adds.

All three of the men are bristling with weapons and grim-faced. Jack is barking orders into his headset.

“Maximum level alert, code nine security. All available men to the crash site. Louis, you take a detail to whatever hospital they’re at, mount a guard in case of further attacks.”

“Was it not an accident?” I whisper to Cristina “He said ‘attacks’…”

“We don’t know yet. We have to be cautious, assume the worst.”

Oh God. Not the Sokolovs. Please, God, not the Sokolovs…

“ETA fourteen-eleven,” the pilot states through the headphones we are all wearing.

I check my watch. It’s a little after eleven in the morning. Three hours before we get there. I’ve never been one for praying but I seriously consider it now.

Please, God, let her be all right. After all of this, please don’t take her now. Not like this. ?tefan, too. I hardly even found him, and now I might lose him, as well. Please, God, not yet. We need more time…

I’m very nearly sick when I spot the crash site. We hover above it, taking in the scene of carnage.

The helicopter is on its side, buckled and broken, the rotors snapped off and the tail lying about twenty yards from the main carcase. It doesn’t look to have been on fire, though, so that must be one small mercy.

The site is surrounded by police and fire service vehicles, and figures in white, protective suits moving among the wreckage. I see no one I recognise as we descend towards the ground.

Our pilot brings us down about forty metres away, outside the official perimeter of vehicles.

“Wait here.” Jack leaps to the ground, followed by Cristina.

They are met by a pair of burly police officers and prevented from approaching the wreck. A brief conversation ensues, and business cards are exchanged. Then Jack takes Cristina’s elbow and steers her back to the chopper. They clamber back on board and buckle in.

“What? What did they say?” I demand. “Where are the casualties?”

“Northampton General,” Jack replies. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“Are they… are they alive?”

“They were when they were dragged out of the chopper, according to the chief inspector back there.”

Incredulous but dizzy with relief, I twist my fingers together as the aircraft soars into the sky again. If they were still alive then, there’s a chance. A good chance, surely. If they’re at the hospital already, and the crash was over three hours ago now, then we would have heard if… if…

“Was that the crash investigation team?” Mickey asks.

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