Page 46 of 72 Hours

“What the hell?”

I started to laugh.

“What the hell is there to laugh about?” Niall sounded both astonished and angry.

“No, I’m sorry.” I hiccupped, trying to rein it in. “But you see, that’s the whole point! That’s why I’m sure now that Simon doesn’t have anything to do with it. Why should he go through this ridiculous charade of diverting e-mails and hacking into medical reports when he already has access to any information he might need to turn against us, discreetly and—more importantly—secretly? And this whole hacking thing is just so juvenile that it’d offend me if I weren’t so shit scared of one of us coming to serious harm.” I waved a sheaf of my notes at him by way of emphasis. “Think about it. Which one of us would be so stupid as to use a code name that referred to his own department? To his own personal nickname for it? Even if it’s encrypted, it’s so blindingly ridiculous that it’s alien to us. It’s like leaving the network password on a scrap of paper in the drawer by the local PC. You know?” Niall was staring at me, his mouth half open as if he were trying to find a suitable response to my excitement. “Niall, don’t you see? Simon is no fool, very far from it. And this ridiculous numeric code that’s been used—that wouldn’t have been Simon’s doing either. Dammit, he hates these things! I can’t even get him to spend time on a crossword, let alone a numbers game. Only numbers he likes are the serial numbers in procurement catalogues for special equipment, or the telephone and zip code numbers for safe hotels, or the amount of money you spent last month on ammunition alone against the current credit limit—”

“Okay, okay, I get you.”

“So he’d never use ‘melting pot’ himself. It’s been used either in ignorance, or as a deliberate ploy to make us think it’s Simon. To turn us all inside out with confusion. I think there are quite a few red herrings swimming around in the murky depths of recent events. Place is starting to stink of them, in my opinion. Soon as we find out where Simon himself is and sort this whole thing out the better. It’s all getting beyond a joke.”

Niall’s expression cleared. I’d never seen such a look of relief. “So we are back where we started. But we know how it was planned and what was used. Maybe even a clue as to why we’ve been targeted. And we seem to know who it’s not! We can work on that, right?” He grasped my arm, and I felt his excitement at the prospect of positive action. Its warmth coursed through me like fresh blood. “That’s smart work, Tanner.”

Then his other hand slipped around my bare waist, and he pulled me in for a kiss.

I don’t think he’d thought it through; it was instinctive, a result of the sudden rush of satisfaction he was feeling after a period of such frustration and inactivity. All sorts of psychological shit like that, you know? I could empathise with it, all too well.

But I didn’t restrain him this time. It was a firm, rich kiss, full of enjoyment and fun and an intimacy that we used to take for granted. Not necessarily sexual, but bringing us as close as we could get. I opened my mouth and joined the kiss with just as much enthusiasm. I tangled my hand in the hair at the nape of his neck and hugged him tightly.

We broke after a couple more moments, both a little breathless. It had been exciting, yeah—but something more than that. Something that thrilled more of me than just my treacherous groin. His hand still lingered at my waist, his fingers warm on my flesh. His eyes were wide and shining.

“Wow,” he said, softly. His lips looked rather swollen. “That was... unexpected.”

“Uh-huh,” I agreed. I wanted to grin. I wanted to cheer to the heavens, to tell you the truth; I hadn’t felt so good for months. Oh, and by the way, I wanted more. I leaned back into him, and he looked just as keen to continue.

Then there was a boom of noise and the trailer rocked on its very base. My papers slid spectacularly all over the kitchen floor, and we were thrown back against the doorway. In other circumstances, I’d have joked that the earth-moving was caused by our making out, but Niall’s face was very pale and the sudden reverberation rang in my ears. I knew the sound of an explosion when I heard one—and a damned big one.

​​​​Chapter 18 – Wednesday 09:32

Niall pushed me to one side and, this time, he was the first to cross the trailer. He snatched up his gun from under the couch as he went, but the minute he opened the door, we saw that this was no new sniper attack. The air outside was thick with smoke and dust. Bricks and torn metal scattered the ground around the trailer; people were coughing and shouting. I peered over Niall’s shoulder to see shadows in the filthy fog. I could hear someone cursing. A dog was barking loudly, and although I was no expert on pets, it sounded a lot like Dylan.

Junk’s bulk reared out of the mist, his hand wiping at his stained face. “Mac? You okay? What the fuck’s goin’ on?”

“What about you?” I called back, knowing full well what was going on.

He waved a hand dismissively. “It was under your unit, man. Dylan was nosin’ around there yesterday. Whined all fuckin’ night, too, so I let him out early this mornin’. He pulled this bundle out from under your trailer, dragged it over to mine. Fuckin’ thing’s a bomb, I think. Grabbed it from him, pushed it away from ours and Ruthie’s. But didn’t have enough time to get rid of it. I was callin’ some of the guys to help me when it went off.”

“Where? Who—?”

“’S okay, exploded outside the empty trailer, but there’s a couple o’ my boys hurt....”

Niall had already left the trailer and plunged into the smoke himself.

“Let him help!” I called. “Get everyone back, there may be more devices.” I started coughing myself. “Junk, tell me what the damage is.”

Junk moved forward out of the maelstrom, Dylan at his heels. The dog had a layer of dirt and dust along his coat, but he seemed healthy otherwise. I looked down at him and he wagged his tail.

“Fuckin’ animal!” Junk announced proudly. “Saved your arse again, Mac.” Then he caught sight of the wildness in my eyes, and his enthusiasm calmed a bit. “Okay, right. It went off between the steps and the base of the old trailer, just smashed up the corner o’ Ruthie’s and took the windows out o’ Zac’s. If it’d gone off directly under yours, Mac, we’d be pickin’ bits o’ you out o’ the crap for weeks to come.” He looked at me curiously and continued. “Zac’s girl was under one o’ the windows, got her arm injured. One o’ my kids was hangin’ around having an early morning smoke behind the empty trailer and caught a metal panel on the head, dislodged off the roof. Just scratches on him and a bump the size of an egg, and serves him right, ’cause he’s too fuckin’ young to be smokin’ anyway. The older guys are scared but they’re fine, so’s the baby, and if you can let Sheri know all her sisters are okay—”

“Sheri?” I stared at him, my mind racing.

“Ain’t you in touch with her?” His expression was puzzled. “The message came she was helpin’ you out.”

I stared at him. Niall strode back into view, his hair dusty, a single streak of dirt along his cheek. The swirling cloud of smoke and fine debris was slowly settling. He caught my eye and nodded. “I’ve checked the rest of the nearby trailers, no further problems,” he said, curtly. I understood perfectly. This one device was meant to have done the trick. He turned back to help with the injuries and the clearing up, while I stepped out of the trailer and drew Junk to one side.

“Who gave you the message about Sheri?” I tried to keep my voice calm, but Junk’s eyes narrowed.

“Where is she, Mac? Is she in fuckin’ trouble?”