Page 60 of 72 Hours

“You’d set that mail up in advance,” Niall said.

Greg just smiled again. “Easy to do, with Brad’s help. Not that he realised what he was showing me. His notes have often found their way to my desk. I just haven’t passed them on for anyone else’s attention.”

There was a brief silence. I could see tears in Sheri’s eyes and no relaxation of Greg’s hold. Niall and I could have rushed him, and maybe if we caught him unawares, he wouldn’t have hit anyone with that gun.

Or maybe not.

“What about the other attacks? On buildings? On cars?” Niall touched my arm. Had he guessed what I was thinking?

Greg shrugged. “Okay, so you can call it my practice. To see what worked. Or maybe to confuse everyone, before I homed in on what I really wanted.” He himself looked mildly confused. I wondered if his campaign had been more luck than judgment; whether he’d started in passion, rather than to a plan. Whether he’d over-reached himself.

I could only hope.

“Why?” Niall asked. “Why did you do all this, Greg?”

Before anyone could speak, a drop of water tapped on my shoulder and dribbled down my arm. It had run down from the roof and pooled on the top lip of the doorway, before falling on to me. “It’s starting to rain,” I said.

Greg looked briefly irritated.

“Come inside,” I said. “You know we’re unarmed. Bring Sheri in, and we can talk about everything there.”

“For God’s sake, Tanner—” Niall began angrily, but I ignored him, just holding Greg’s gaze.

“We can stand here, Niall, and get drenched,” I said quite sharply. “Or we can go inside. What’s it matter? While he has Sheri, he has the advantage.”

Greg tilted his head, weighing up my suggestion. He looked from my determined face to Niall’s scowl. Then he gestured with the gun for us to go in ahead of him, tugged at Sheri’s belt, and the two of them stumbled forward to follow.

WE ALL CRAMMED INTO my living room, but it wasn’t like we were gathering for any kind of tea party. I switched on the lamp, its light creeping dimly over the shapes of people and furniture. Greg waved the two of us over towards the kitchen alcove, and he nudged Sheri down on to the couch. He stood beside her, watching us on the other side of the narrow room. There was nothing but the card table between us. I’d cleared it of everything except for the radio, perched on top of it.

There was no sound in the trailer except for our laboured breathing.

I leaned back carefully against the wall, trying to look a little more relaxed than I actually was. Niall stayed in the alcove, watching Greg. I couldn’t see his face except in profile, but I hoped he wasn’t going to try anything rash.

“So we’ve established you’re a good actor,” I said steadily. “What performance do you have for us all now?”

Greg brushed some drops of rain off his jacket. Then he looked up and stared at us both. I couldn’t see what he was looking at, or for. But Niall drew in a sharp breath at my side. What did he see?

“Greg.” I made my voice sound calm and reasonable. “Let Sheri go at least. She’s got nothing to do with all this, has she? How can she? No, let her go and we can sort it out between us. I understand how you’re feeling—”

“Shut the fuck up!” His head shook sharply with the words, and I paused.

“Okay, that was patronising. I’ll apologise if you think it’ll make any difference. I just don’t see why she has to be involved.”

“That’s the way it always is, though, isn’t it?” He sounded angrier now, and I was alarmed. “People who’ve done nothing to anyone get dragged into your mess, and you’re the last to see anything wrong in it.”

I carefully blanked my expression. “Greg, tell me what it is I’ve done to you. What we’ve all done. It’s obviously important to you, and I want to understand. Maybe I want to learn where I’ve gone wrong.”

He didn’t really seem to be listening. Sheri huddled up on the couch, keeping as far away from him as possible, but she was still well within firing range. He leaned slightly forward to give extra emphasis, and he seemed to lose total control of his breathing. The words started to spill out of him in erratic, passionate bursts. “It’s all fucking wrong. It’s not just important to me, there are all kinds of people it affects. But what do you care? They’re not part of your special little clique. They’re all nothing! Invisible... ignored. The fucking Team, its stupid agenda, and its arrogant, self-important missions. That’s all that matters. Your decisions, your orders, your actions. What makes you think you’re the good guys? You fuck up lives, just the same. Hell, people are just trying to get by and make some money, or keep themselves off the street. But no, you think you know better. And all the time, you’ve actually sold out to the bad guys. Those slimy public figures—you sweep over their fuck-ups, ignore the mess they’ve left behind. And if anything doesn’t fit your image of yourselves? You just dump it, smack down anyone who tries to fight back—”

“Kes,” Niall said, suddenly. “The boy, Kes. You’re related to him.”

Huh? That was the name of the boy who knifed Niall. The air seemed to freeze in the room. My flesh ran cold.

Greg’s head snapped quickly towards him and I didn’t mistake the flash of grudging surprise in his eyes. “So you’re the smart one, Sutherland. How did you guess?”

“Your eyes,” Niall said. His body was very still, and I knew that was a measure of his tension. “There’s something in them I recognise. Your resentment about the Team and its missions. Your talk of us challenging those who fight back.”

I was wondering whether to pitch in. I was still in shock, but of course Niall would know the look of the boy who tried to kill him. How hard was it for him to look into the memory of those eyes?