Page 72 of King’s Ransom

Her face was pale. She breathed in ragged gasps.

Her eyelids fluttered, trying to stay open.

‘Audrey! Audrey! Can you hear me!’ I shouted.

‘Just . . . got shot . . .’ she whispered huskily.

Xiao said, ‘That thing came out of nowhere and shot her. I was trying to stop the bleed—’

I couldn’t tell for sure how badly wounded she was, but it looked severe.

On the ground beside her, I glimpsed a Post-It note with writing on it:

PLACE THE CHIP ON THE DRONE

AND THEN STEP BACK

Instructions. But they didn’t matter to me now.

‘We gotta get her to a hospital—’ I said.

Suddenly, I heard a woman’s scream.

It had come from up the hill, from behind us, from back at the grave where I’d left Merritt Garrett and the gardener.

Then I heard gunshots ring out from up there.

Lots of gunshots.

Things were happening too fast and in too many places.

‘Xiao,’ I said. ‘Stay here with Audrey. Call 911 and keep pressure on that wound. Do not let her lose consciousness.’

‘But—’

‘Xiao, it took me thirty-eight years to get a girlfriend, let alone one as awesome as Audrey! I’m not gonna lose her now! Keep her conscious till the paramedics arrive!’

I bolted off the bridge, leading with my gun.

I pounded back up the snow-covered hill as more gunshots rang out.

Then I came over the hill and around the mausoleums and beheld an extraordinary sight.

I saw Garrett . . .

. . . crouching hip-deep in the open grave, blood dripping from a bullet wound to his left arm, with his gun raised . . .

. . . exchanging fire with a huge man in a black tracksuit about twenty feet away from him, at the edge of the nearby tree line . . .

. . . with two figures already lying motionless in the snow at the big tracksuited man’s feet, each in a pool of blood . . .

. . . then Garrett loosed two final desperate shots that slammed into Tracksuit Man’s chest and he fell, dead.

The female gardener—the source of the scream I’d heard—was huddled in the bushes behind Garrett, her hands covering her ears, looking absolutely terrified.

I’d missed the bulk of the firefight, having arrived just in time to catch the end of it.

But what I’d seen was clear: Merritt Garrett had single-handedly defended the open grave from the three attackers.