The Survivor Read Free Page A

fidgeting with his mirrors as he reversed.
    Red Mask stepped into the centre of the road, shouting, ‘Do not move!’
    The old man looked up. Confusion filled his eyes.
    Red Mask gave him no chance to think; he moved forward and pointed the pistol. In response, the old man raised his hands, slowly, cautiously, keeping his trembling palms facing forward. The bright gold of his wristwatch shimmered against his tanned and wrinkly skin.
    ‘Now just be easy there, son—’
    ‘Remove yourself from vehicle!’
    The old man bit his lip, then the sternness in his face crumpled away and he did as ordered. Once outside the Lexus, in the middle of the lane, the smallness of his frame became apparent. Dressed in a dark green tailored suit, his body was thin and frail. His breath came in fast and shallow gasps.
    ‘Now just . . . just be calm there, son, don’t go—’
    ‘Discussion is not permitted.’ Red Mask ordered him into the Honda Civic, then made him park the car inside the garage. Once done, Red Mask flicked the gun. ‘Turn off engine.’
    The old man obeyed.
    ‘Give me keys.’
    The old man did as ordered, with shaky hands, and Red Mask grabbed the keys. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket – Player’s Filter Lights – and leaned into the car, tucking them between the seat and console. Then he stepped back and raised his pistol.
    The old man gave him a pleading look, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice sounded very soft and very far away.
    ‘I’ve got money, son, I’ve got lots and lots of money . . .’
    Red Mask shot him once in the face.
    ‘Not about money,’ he said.

 
    Five
    ‘We should have stayed at the school,’ Felicia said to Striker as they raced north on Imperial Road. It was the third time she’d made the statement in the past five minutes, and her words were grinding into him.
    ‘We have to pursue.’
    ‘But kids are dying back there, Jacob – they need us.’
    He gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles blanched.
    ‘This prick gets away, he’ll kill even more kids. Another school, another place. Who knows how many he’ll hit before the cops can get him?’ He gave her a hard look. ‘Make no mistake about it, Feleesh, it was a fluke we were on scene when it happened, and that fluke probably saved fifty more lives.’
    ‘We don’t know if he’ll kill more – but we do know there are wounded kids back there. Shot, dying. We can save them, Jacob.’
    ‘Other units are already on scene.’
    ‘But not enough of them.’
    Striker’s jaw tightened. She was right; he knew that. By leaving St Patrick’s High and pursuing Red Mask, they had guaranteed some kids an early grave. But if Red Mask got away, there was no telling how many more children might die. He had to be stopped. At all costs.
    Either decision was the wrong one. A no-win situation. And no matter what choice he made, the consequences would be dire. His actions would be questioned by all. The sickeningly sweet odour of Felicia’s perfume was making his headache worse. He powered down the window, let air bluster through the car.
    ‘Jacob,’ Felicia started again.
    ‘We’re looking for the gunman.’
    ‘Fine. Target Three it is.’
    ‘Call him Red Mask. We’re looking for Red Mask.’
    Felicia frowned at the words, but nodded her agreement.
    Striker followed the same route Red Mask was most likely to have taken. It wasn’t easy. Fall’s frosty moisture slickened the roads, and the wheels of the undercover police cruiser skipped on the asphalt as they rounded the bend of Imperial Road.
    Directly ahead, in the faraway distance, were the North Shore Mountains – blackish peaks of uneven rock, covered with white patches of snow. Above them was pale blue sky. The image suggested a calm that didn’t exist.
    A storm was coming.
    Striker could feel it in the air like a static charge.
    Slowly, methodically, he drove on. He scanned the next alley to his left, saw the wideness of the road, the lack