him.
Edwards lurched to his feet.
‘Quick,’ Kotlas cried, ‘get the door!’ The patient’s hands found his, struggling to relieve the pressure on his airway. They shuffled around full-circle, grunting with exertion. Saliva bubbled from the man’s lips, his head thrashing from side to side, desperately trying to escape the metal links crushing his windpipe. The psychiatrist tightened his grip, and forcing the man to his knees, finished him.
Fisher bit down into Vanner’s wrist. The youth screamed.
Edwards reached the door. The first inmate slammed into it, driving him back. The guard, off-balance for an instant, regained his footing and used his superior bulk to narrow the gap. If I can just get it shut, the latch will secure it – unless they have keys. Bracing himself, he shifted his weight and rammed forwards with both hands.
Fisher’s teeth tore through flesh; blood flowed. Vanner relinquished the tenuous hold he had on the slippery steel spike and clawed at the other man’s face. Triumphant, the implement free, Fisher drove it into his opponent’s belly, forcing it upwards. Vanner’s eyes bulged. His hands flying downwards, he made a futile effort to prevent the steel from going deeper. He gasped and slid sideways, crumpling to the floor.
Fisher circled the table with blood dripping from the carpenter’s flat-headed tool. ‘Don’t matter what you do. You two are fucked when Brody gets here.’
‘Kotlas, quick,’ Edwards yelled, leaning back. He lowered himself, and bending his knees for more leverage, desperately tried to hold his position.
‘One more move,’ Fisher yelled, ‘and she’s dead.’ The tip of the screwdriver touched Fleur’s closed eyelid.
‘If you’ve not killed her already, she’d probably welcome it,’ Kotlas said.
‘Rawrrr!’ A deep-throated bellow filled the room.
Edwards’ feet scrabbled for purchase, sliding backwards across the floor as the movement of the door began to reverse.
Fisher howled with delight. ‘Now you’re really fucked.’
Chapter 15
Copse Hall. 9:51 a.m.
Brody forced his hand through the gap and gripped the edge of the door. From the size of the fist, and the meaty forearm now visible, Kotlas judged its owner had a bull-like physique. Only moments remained before he barged his way in, and once that happened, he knew, with the two men following behind, and Fisher, he’d be unstoppable.
Kotlas eyed the door leading to the stairs. It was ajar. Had Edwards been thinking about a quick getaway when he left it like that? With Fleur dead and the situation deteriorating fast, their efforts had been in vain. He gauged the distance. Fifteen paces. If he and the guard bolted for it now, could they make it?
‘Quick, grab my baton!’ Edwards yelled, shrinking away from Brody’s fingers. ‘Come on. Use it to smash his hand away from the door. If he gets through, we’re dead.’
Kotlas dashed forward, but Fisher cut him off, manoeuvring into a point midway between the guard and psychiatrist. ‘Not so fast,’ he said, adopting the engarde position, the tip of his screwdriver cutting small circles in the air. His gaze fixed first on Kotlas’ chest, and then flicked between the two men, the flat-headed tool conducting a silent eeny-meeny-miny-moe. It was obvious who he’d attack first. Edwards was a sitting target.
Kotlas, knew he had to do something. He attacked. The unexpected move wrong-footed the madman, who struck out with the weapon an instant too late.
Handcuffs flashed with blinding speed. Adrenaline raced as Kotlas, his body a blur, parried the blow with the cuff in his right hand. Striking bone, the force of impact so fierce, the sudden inertia snapped the metal jaws shut around Fisher’s wrist. The doctor shifted grip, his thumb digging into the back of the captive hand, turning it up, twisting and locking it back against itself. Fisher’s mouth gaped, at first in silent agony, then he screamed pain as
Edwards lurched to his feet.
‘Quick,’ Kotlas cried, ‘get the door!’ The patient’s hands found his, struggling to relieve the pressure on his airway. They shuffled around full-circle, grunting with exertion. Saliva bubbled from the man’s lips, his head thrashing from side to side, desperately trying to escape the metal links crushing his windpipe. The psychiatrist tightened his grip, and forcing the man to his knees, finished him.
Fisher bit down into Vanner’s wrist. The youth screamed.
Edwards reached the door. The first inmate slammed into it, driving him back. The guard, off-balance for an instant, regained his footing and used his superior bulk to narrow the gap. If I can just get it shut, the latch will secure it – unless they have keys. Bracing himself, he shifted his weight and rammed forwards with both hands.
Fisher’s teeth tore through flesh; blood flowed. Vanner relinquished the tenuous hold he had on the slippery steel spike and clawed at the other man’s face. Triumphant, the implement free, Fisher drove it into his opponent’s belly, forcing it upwards. Vanner’s eyes bulged. His hands flying downwards, he made a futile effort to prevent the steel from going deeper. He gasped and slid sideways, crumpling to the floor.
Fisher circled the table with blood dripping from the carpenter’s flat-headed tool. ‘Don’t matter what you do. You two are fucked when Brody gets here.’
‘Kotlas, quick,’ Edwards yelled, leaning back. He lowered himself, and bending his knees for more leverage, desperately tried to hold his position.
‘One more move,’ Fisher yelled, ‘and she’s dead.’ The tip of the screwdriver touched Fleur’s closed eyelid.
‘If you’ve not killed her already, she’d probably welcome it,’ Kotlas said.
‘Rawrrr!’ A deep-throated bellow filled the room.
Edwards’ feet scrabbled for purchase, sliding backwards across the floor as the movement of the door began to reverse.
Fisher howled with delight. ‘Now you’re really fucked.’
Chapter 15
Copse Hall. 9:51 a.m.
Brody forced his hand through the gap and gripped the edge of the door. From the size of the fist, and the meaty forearm now visible, Kotlas judged its owner had a bull-like physique. Only moments remained before he barged his way in, and once that happened, he knew, with the two men following behind, and Fisher, he’d be unstoppable.
Kotlas eyed the door leading to the stairs. It was ajar. Had Edwards been thinking about a quick getaway when he left it like that? With Fleur dead and the situation deteriorating fast, their efforts had been in vain. He gauged the distance. Fifteen paces. If he and the guard bolted for it now, could they make it?
‘Quick, grab my baton!’ Edwards yelled, shrinking away from Brody’s fingers. ‘Come on. Use it to smash his hand away from the door. If he gets through, we’re dead.’
Kotlas dashed forward, but Fisher cut him off, manoeuvring into a point midway between the guard and psychiatrist. ‘Not so fast,’ he said, adopting the engarde position, the tip of his screwdriver cutting small circles in the air. His gaze fixed first on Kotlas’ chest, and then flicked between the two men, the flat-headed tool conducting a silent eeny-meeny-miny-moe. It was obvious who he’d attack first. Edwards was a sitting target.
Kotlas, knew he had to do something. He attacked. The unexpected move wrong-footed the madman, who struck out with the weapon an instant too late.
Handcuffs flashed with blinding speed. Adrenaline raced as Kotlas, his body a blur, parried the blow with the cuff in his right hand. Striking bone, the force of impact so fierce, the sudden inertia snapped the metal jaws shut around Fisher’s wrist. The doctor shifted grip, his thumb digging into the back of the captive hand, turning it up, twisting and locking it back against itself. Fisher’s mouth gaped, at first in silent agony, then he screamed pain as
Similar Books
