Matt Hilton - Slash and burn

Kate actually sat down on the toilet. It wasn't going to be easy. With her decision to make her break for freedom adrenalin had flowed through her body. At first she desperately needed to urinate, but not now. All her bodily functions had shut down as her body readied itself to fight or run. She had to squeeze hard just to add validity to her story. She used tissue off a roll then flushed, pulled up her clothing, and silently lifted the item she'd noticed wedged behind the toilet bowl. Nixon barely glanced over his shoulder. Kate turned to the sink and ran her hands under the water. She towelled her hands dry, stepping back towards Nixon with the towel still in her hands.

'Thanks, Nixon,' she said to attract his attention. She deliberately used his name to humanise him, and to humanise her in his eyes. She smiled. 'You don't know how badly I needed that.'

'Just finish drying your hands and then get back out here.'

'Sure.' She allowed the towel to drop to the floor. 'I'm all done.'

Nixon turned his body halfway into the room. His mouth was coming open to speak. And that was when Kate raised the canister of insecticide she'd lifted off the bathroom floor. She'd concealed it under the towel until she was close enough, had used the cloth to cover her hands while she pulled off the cap. She gave Nixon a full blast of the spray directly into his eyes and open mouth.

The insecticide was never going to kill Nixon. All it would do was sting his eyes and give him a foul taste in his mouth, but the way he reacted was as if Kate had squirted him with sulphuric acid. He lurched away, crying out, his hands coming up to cover his eyes. His spectacles stopped some of the spray, but he was still momentarily blinded. Kate kept on spraying him, giving her all the time she needed for what she had to do next.

She brought up her bare foot and kicked as hard as she could directly in the juncture between Nixon's legs. She hurt her instep but her pain was nothing compared to what Nixon experienced. He groaned, his hands now going between his legs. He crumpled forwards as his knees gave way. Kate reached across him, snatching at the metal cuffs on the credenza. Then she tried to push past him, to get clear of the bathroom. Nixon grabbed at her, one hand catching at an ankle. Kate kicked loose and she managed to swing round him and bring up the cuffs at the same time. These cuffs were the rigid type with a solid spacer bar between the two hoops of steel. Kate slammed the cuffs down on Nixon's head. He yowled, one hand coming up to protect his skull, the other reaching for the gun in its holster. Kate slammed him a second time, cutting a chunk out of his scalp.

Nixon tried to turn towards her, but Kate danced around him, catching hold of the hand he had on top of his head. In the next instant she had the cuff on that wrist and she snapped it in place. The advantage of rigid cuffs was that once one of the hoops was in place a person inferior in strength could control a much larger opponent by way of leverage and pain compliance. Kate twisted the cuffs, straightening Nixon's arm against his elbow, then she tugged, pulling him down and flat on his face. She quickly knelt against his shoulder to stop him getting up then grabbed at his free hand even as she twisted the cuffed arm round. Nixon howled, tried to resist, but she just twisted the rigid bar and he howled again. Then she managed to jam the other cuff in place.

Nixon's gun was partly out of its holster. Kate grabbed it.

Nixon was face down, but he could still fight back or shout for help.

Kate only had a second to decide. She brought down the butt of the gun on the nape of his neck. Nixon swore. Kate struck him again and some of the fight went out of him.

'Damn it,' she whispered harshly. 'Just black out will you, Nixon!'

She'd seen Joe knock out that colossal monster, Larry Bolan, by hitting him across the back of the skull. Why wouldn't Nixon just go to sleep so she didn't have to keep on hitting him? She didn't want to crush his skull altogether, but it looked like she was going to have to. Then she changed her grip, caught the gun by its barrel, brought it down like a mallet and this time Nixon did flatten out. He exhaled loudly, then fell into a regular rhythm of shallow breaths.

Kate stood up, her entire body trembling.

She glanced round the room, looking for her boots. They were nowhere in sight. She doubted that they'd even been brought from Little Fork. Barefoot she'd be at a major disadvantage but she wasn't going to let that stop her. She moved quickly to the door to the hallway, checking Nixon's gun as she went. It was a Glock 17, bigger than the model she was used to.

Expertly she ejected the magazine, checked the load and saw it was full. Reinserting the magazine, she racked the slide placing a round in the firing chamber. She flicked off the safety. She was trained never to carry a gun with the safety mechanism disengaged, but she had learned from Joe that the time you wasted flicking off the safety could mean the difference between life and death.

Thinking of Joe, she paused in her flight. What if he'd been killed?

She fought the idea aside. It wasn't something she wanted to contemplate. Not now. Not ever. Huffman had tried to force information from her by playing on her feelings for Joe. She'd lied, said they were merely engaged in a business partnership, but Huffman had been nearer to the truth than he could ever have guessed. Kate had indeed fallen for Joe.

Enough, she thought. She wasn't going to get out of this fortress going all weak-kneed over a man. She had to stand firm and do what must be done. There'd be no warning shouts. No warnings at all. She must shoot to kill whether her enemies were too close to miss or not.

She pulled open the door and spied along the hallway. There were closed doors to her left, a long narrow hall to her right. Double doors opened into some sort of lounge area further along. She listened but could hear nothing of the low murmur that had filtered from that same room earlier in the day. She stepped out into the hall, feeling her bare feet skid on polished planks. She sucked in a breath, lifted the Glock and headed for the lounge.

Except for when she'd been brought here and bundled up the stairs gagged and blindfolded, Kate had spent all her time in that one bedroom under constant guard. She had no idea of the layout of the building or of the number of people here. She knew that she was on the upper floor of a large house but she hadn't realised just how big the place was. It was by definition a ranch, but was more akin to the plantation houses of the Deep South. When she came into the lounge she saw wide French doors leading on to some sort of balcony. Beyond the doors a prairie spread to the horizon, tall grass burnt yellow by the sun and wind. It was heading for late afternoon and the sky had paled, turning a light shade of grey along the skyline.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she looked for another way out. The stairs, she guessed, must be further along the hall. For all she knew they'd take her directly into the midst of Huffman and his men. Her gun would give her a fighting chance, but she wasn't deluded; she knew exactly what the odds against fighting her way through a group of killers were.

She moved through the lounge, skirting a tall wing-backed chair, her feet squeaking faintly on the boards. Then she came to a halt. A stain marred the floor. A dark fan like a crow's wings, only this crow must have been massive. She identified the stain without having to study it in any great detail. Blood had seeped into the grain of the wood. Someone had died here, and that death had been very recent judging by the coppery scent hanging in the air.

She wondered if the blood belonged to Joe or Imogen. Had Huffman caught either one of them and ended their lives right there in the centre of his living room?