Page 150 of The Killer’s Mark

Poe put himself between the Red Chamber and Esmerée and started backing away again. Océane ran to the car and climbed into the back seat.

Towler didn’t move. ‘One last thing,’ he said.

‘Oh for God’s sake, what now?’ Poe muttered.

‘Who hit you, Esmerée?’

Esmerée pointed at the small guy who had been holding her. ‘That ASSHOLE!’ she shouted, angry all of a sudden. ‘Punched me in the face ’cos I did a Poe and twisted his balls.’

‘That guy?’ Towler said. ‘The short-arse with one leg?’

Esmerée frowned. ‘Er … he has two legs, Lurch.’

In a single fluid movement, Towler reached behind his back, lifted his jacket tail and drew his Desert Eagle. He barely sighted it. Just cracked off a single, deafening round. The small triad’s left knee exploded. Bits of bone and gristle hung in the air like an indoor firework display. He fell to the ground screaming. Blood poured out of his knee like a busted water main.

‘Not any more he doesn’t,’ Towler said.

The Red Chamber guys all reached for their weapons. Dongyang Dong screamed a panicked instruction. Confused, his men paused. He barked something else and they put their guns on the ground. It was clear they’d never been asked to do that before. They looked to be in shock. Then again, they hadn’t seen Bradshaw’s video montage.

‘Those five-o calibre bullets have some fucking stopping power, don’t they?’ Towler said calmly. He said it like he was discussing how quickly his new kettle boiled.

‘Holy shit!’ Esmerée said. Before Poe could grab her, she’d sprinted to the downed triad. No one tried to stop her. Poe called her back, but she ignored him. He assumed it was some sort of Stockholm syndrome. That she was going to help the triad who’d hit her. But when she reached him, she dropped to her knees and rifled through his pockets. Slipped something into her own. Then she got to her feet and ran back to Poe.

‘What was that about?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Esmerée …’ Poe warned.

She reached into her pocket. Pulled out a rubber duck. An honest-to-goodness rubber duck. All yellow and smiling. ‘I boosted one of these for you. Thought you and the doc could play hide the duck when you take those lame-ass baths together.’

‘Pervert,’ Towler said.

Poe glared at him. ‘I thought I said no guns.’

Towler shrugged. ‘I didn’t think you meant me as well, mate.’ He put his Desert Eagle away, then shouted to the horrified Red Chamber men. ‘I’d get that prick to a hospital if I were you; I think I snagged an artery.’ He paused half a beat. ‘Or let him bleed out. I don’t really give a shit.’

And with that, he turned his back on them.

They got back into the car. Poe and Esmerée in the front, Towler and Océane in the back. Poe put it into gear, released the handbrake and watched in the rear-view mirror as Long Meg and Her Daughters disappeared.

He hoped he’d never see the stupid stone circle again.

Chapter 127

As soon as they were on the M6, and Towler’s men had confirmed no one was following them, Poe called Estelle. She answered on the first ring.

‘We’ve got her,’ he said. No preamble, no small talk. No making her wait.

‘Is she OK?’

‘She’s got a bloody lip, and her eye looks like it’s had a run-in with an angry bumble bee, but otherwise she’s in good spirits.’

‘I told Matt who hit me and he blew that sucker’s knee right off his leg. Grossest thing I’ve ever seen!’ Esmerée yelled.

Estelle didn’t answer. Poe knew why. She wanted to be brave for Esmerée. Wanted to make the inevitable shock more manageable when it kicked in later. When the adrenaline wore off. The hormone extracted a heavy price. When the shock started, Estelle wanted to be ready with hot sweet tea, words of encouragement, prescribed sedatives. She didn’t want to exacerbate the situation by bursting into tears.

‘How did it go, Poe?’ Bradshaw asked instead.