Page 19 of Savage Reckoning

The bolt cutters are first to arrive, and we set to, Jack lopping through the chain and me directing each woman up the steps as they are freed. Meanwhile, someone has managed to find a set of keys and is removing the metalwork that remains around their ankles while they wait in the upper barn for transport to arrive. Each woman is remarkably calm, in the circumstances, which I attribute to stunned bewilderment rather than confidence in their rescuers.

Jack and I follow the last woman up the stairs to find just a couple still waiting. The rest have been loaded into SUVs to be taken across the moors to the National Trust car park where their minibus is waiting.

The girl in front of me stumbles on the stairs.

I catch her by the elbow. “Steady, honey.”

I help her to the top where she takes in the scene of carnage and lets out an unearthly wail. Shock is setting in at last.

The dead bodies have been dragged inside the barn and piled up on the stage. The plan is to incinerate the lot, and the barn with them. There’ll be no more flesh auctions here. Most of our men have already left, it’s just me, Jack, and Tony still here mopping up. Tony grins down from the stage where he has been pouring accelerant over the corpses.

“Anyone got a match?” he calls.

Jack tosses him a cigarette lighter. “Give us a moment to get the women outside.”

I throw my jacket around the wailing girl, who looks no more than about seventeen, and usher her out the door. Jack herds the remaining two out, and we sprint for the one SUV still waiting, the doors open.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, a message from Rome. Black van approaching from west. More punters on their way to the show.

“We’ve got company arriving,” I yell out to Jack who is right behind me.

“Seen it. Tony, get your arse in gear. We need to go.”

There’s a whoosh. Heat caresses my back when the barn goes up in flames. The inferno is raging within seconds, bright-orange flames lighting up the inky blackness.

“They’ll be able to see that from the moon.” Jack chuckles as we dive into our vehicle.

The women are huddled in the back seat, still wide-eyed but less obviously terrified now that it seems they have, indeed, been rescued.

Tony clambers into the back with them, while Jack and I are in the front. Jack drives, and we head for the car park. Once there, it takes just a few moments to transfer the women to the minibus for their journey to Glasgow.

The helicopter is also waiting, the rotors slowly spinning. We watch the minibus leave and throw the keys to our SUV to the men still there, then we jog over to the aircraft. Nico and Rome are already on board.

We soar into the air. The barn is silhouetted against the night sky, flames now reaching twenty or thirty feet high. A suitable funeral pyre for a filthy trade.

“Nice work,” Rome observes. “I downloaded the drone recording. You can watch it back later.”

Jack’s stony gaze rakes across all of us. “We did okay. Now we can get back to the day job. Finding the bastards who shot our helicopter down and making them pay.”

“It could have been Sokolov,” Nico suggests, ramming a lump of gum in his mouth. “In which case…” He gestures back towards the inferno raging below.

Jack shakes his head. “It’s possible, but I doubt it.” His focus lands on me. “You done here now?”

I meet his fierce gaze. “Not necessarily. Sokolov’s little enterprise was my main target, and I still intend to take the head off the snake itself, but I’m in no rush. I can stay and help you out with your other problem.”

He gives a curt nod. “You did okay back there.”

It’s as much as he’s going to offer by way of praise, but it’ll do. He can see he needs me, that I can make myself useful, so I’m in.

Or nearly. “Did you square things with Megan?”

“We talked.”

“That’s not what I asked. Is she cool with you being around?”

No point lying to him. He’ll check. I rock my hand from one side to another to indicate ‘maybe’.

“I don’t want her upset,” he snarls, then raps on the partition behind the pilot. “Caernbro Ghyll.”

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