Sean Slater - The survivor

Then Striker would have to inform her of Raine’s death. He could get someone from Patrol to do it, but knew he wouldn’t. Raine’s death had occurred because of his failure.

He would tell Patricia so.

Felicia came up to his side, and rubbed her hand on his back. Striker shook it off, not because he resented her touch, but because his ribs were still sore — broken from the bullets that had tagged him on the bulletproof vest that night.

‘It’s over,’ Felicia said. ‘And neither Raine nor Shen Sun Soone are coming back. You have to accept that, Jacob.’

Striker said nothing. He simply looked across the water to a small sandy inlet, just south-east of the native reserve. That was where the frogmen had finally found Raine’s body some six hours after her fall.

Shen Sun’s body had never been found.

Striker doubted if it ever would. The gunman had manifested into Striker’s life like a ghost from another realm, and he had gone out in much the same manner — there one moment, gone the next. Vanished soundlessly, like a fading phantom.

The thought made Striker shiver, and he recalled the gunman’s last words:

‘History is circle. Past is also future.’

Striker understood the hidden message in those words: that their paths would cross again one day, in this life or the next. The saying was old. A Chinese superstition. And Striker hoped it wasn’t true. God knows, he’d already suffered enough pain for this life and the next.

But if it did happen, he would be ready.

Felicia gave him a nudge. ‘You okay?’

He nodded. ‘I’m more than okay, I’m alive.’ He pulled her close and gave her a long, passionate kiss. When he pulled away, her cheeks were rosy and her lips stretched into a smirk.

‘Does this mean we’re on again?’ she asked.

Striker raised an eyebrow and smiled at her. ‘Let’s just say, you won’t be needing chocolate again for a long, long time.’