Monday, April 23


A shadow moves, somewhere to my right. It drags my gaze with it, and I lose track of another shadow, just in front of me. I curse and crouch down lower. Closer to the earth. Closer to the dampness of the grass.

The night air is still for just a moment. I hold my breath and listen to the blood race through my ears.

Then a bullet tears through the air, cracking the silence, whispering through a hedgerow and snapping violently into the wooden fencing beside me. I curse and rise, pointing Faith towards the shadowed doorway and firing three rounds back into the anonymous darkness.

Another shadow moves to my right. Is that Thompson, or was he in the doorway? I'm suddenly forgetful and fight down a wave of panic. I see the figure more clearly, running across the grass of the Pavillion gardens. I raise Faith, cool against my cheek in the cramped space, and fire again. I'm rewarded with a scream and the shadow falls, fading into the grass, a shadow within a shadow.

The victories rarely last long. More bullets fire into my slim shelter. I throw myself over the fence behind me, roll across the gravelled floor, and run around the edge of the garden. Bullets follow me for a while, worrying my heels, but soon I'm lost to them too. I peer back into the night, trying not to breath too heavily. Treacherous air clouds before me as I breathe. It's cold tonight.

I've been stalking Thompson for most of the evening. He was at some drugs lab in Chichester, just as planned. I couldn't get inside the run down building, it was surrounded by growling muscle. But I followed him here into town. It was all too easy, until the stones started crunching underfoot here in the Pavillion gardens.

Voices shout out in the darkness. I can't make out the words. A huddled figure slips away from an alcove near the Pavillion and shuffles away. That's Thompson alright. I put Faith to rest by my side, and creep after him into the night.

He's close now, and he's got no-where to run to.