‘Leave Denise. Let her go. If it’s between us, then let her go ...’

‘Very well,’ he said.

The killer kicked the stool away. Denise’s body dropped a foot and the noose gripped her neck with a sudden jolt.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

The Lair

December 4, 1.40 p.m.

The light from the candle was filtered through the motes of dust that had risen up from the floor. Harper felt the jolt physically in his own neck and leaped up to grab hold of Denise. His body ached from the beating and the wound in his arm but he managed to lift her to take the weight from her neck.

She choked and spluttered. But she was still in the game. He pulled the gag from her mouth.

‘How tight is it?’

‘Tight,’ she replied with a low groan.

She wasn’t dying, but Harper was holding her with both arms. If Harper dropped her, she would swing again and the noose would tighten around her arteries and starve her brain of oxygen. In a few seconds she’d lose consciousness.

Harper was helpless and so was she. Like stuck pigs.

Sebastian turned. ‘Do you want to save her, Tom? Do you even know how you feel? I bet you think of what you’d like to do to her, hey?

‘I want you to suffer, Harper.’ The killer was circling his prey. Harper was feeling the weight of Denise’s body. His clavicle felt like it was broken and he was bleeding badly from his wound. Denise was listening. She had to try something. Something different.

‘Your blood is making a mess of the floor, Harper. How long can you hold her up and keep her alive, Tom? How strong are you? Big fucking hero!’

Harper didn’t know how he was going to get out of this. Denise would die if he let her go and he couldn’t catch the killer unless he did so.

Sebastian stood behind him. ‘How much pain can you take for her?’

His knife drew across the back of Harper’s knee, deep into the flesh. Harper cried out and felt his leg buckle. But he held it.

‘Let us go or you’ll die here,’ he gasped.

‘Or you will,’ Sebastian countered.

The knife sliced through Harper’s right arm. The cut went deep to the bone and Harper grimaced and let the pain be part of someone else. He held tighter to Denise.

‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Let me go or we both die.’

‘No,’ Harper said. ‘No one dies here.’

‘If you take him on, you’ll win. If you don’t - he’ll kill you and I’ll die anyway.’

‘Touching sentiment,’ said Sebastian.

Harper was working something out. He could drop her but not for long. If he got into a struggle with the killer, she would die. He had to drop her and incapacitate Sebastian within a few seconds. How?

‘Perhaps you will respond to her pain,’ the killer said with menace.

His knife drew across her thigh. She screamed as her flesh opened. Harper was staring into the killer’s eyes. Emotion pulled at him and wanted him, but he had to control it. He remained still.

Sebastian’s hands ran between her legs. ‘She likes it, Tom.’ Sebastian was enjoying himself now, watching his grotesque statue to love bleed and die. He wanted more sensation, though. Harper could see that. Sebastian always wanted more.

The killer held the blade up against Denise’s breast. He scored a line and watched the blood begin to run down her white skin. He was almost transfixed.

‘You raped and murdered your own sister!’ shouted Harper suddenly.

The killer stopped. ‘I didn’t touch her. I never touched her.’

Go cold, Tom said to himself. His heartbeat dropped, his eyes narrowed. He had one shot.

‘You killed Bethany. You raped her and killed her,’ he said desperately. ‘You held her down and killed her. Didn’t you? That’s what this is all about.’

The killer’s eyes widened. ‘You ask Ned Hummel what happened to her.’

It was enough of a distraction. Go cold, Tom. Now.

Harper lowered Denise’s body to the full extent of the rope and then he released her and wrapped his arms around Sebastian’s knife hand instead, moving through Denise as she hanged. His left arm smashed Sebastian’s shoulder as his right arm jerked, and the killer’s arm snapped. A sharp crack echoed in the small room and the knife clattered to the ground.

Sebastian bent forward and Harper landed an almighty kick in his jaw. He keeled over with a great cry of pain.

Harper had seconds to act. Denise was choking. He sprang round and grabbed the knife, then jumped and scored the rope. He slashed once, twice, three times until the knife cut through. She dropped and Harper had her in his arms - in his arms, alive.

He kissed her forehead once and then turned to Sebastian.

He stared in disbelief. The killer was gone.

‘Where is he?’ Harper panted. ‘Where the fuck?’

Suddenly, the candle went out and Harper and Denise clung to each other in the darkness.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen

The Lair

December 4, 1.50 p.m.

The FBI arrived at the elevator shaft en masse, geared up and ready. The HRT team was led by Special Agent Baines. The whole team gathered at the elevator and the elite crammed into the lift shaft and made their way underground.

In the vast dark atrium of Sebastian’s lair, fifteen gun lights cut lines through the darkness. They saw the sickening contents. Hearts, eyes, costumes.

The team moved through without a word. There were over sixteen tunnels leading from the central atrium at the Mace Crindle plant. The men split up. Two teams, one north, one south.

Baines travelled south, moving quickly through the tunnels. In the distance they heard the shouting of the other team. ‘Sewer six clear. Sewer eight clear.’ Baines listened. He and his team approached the end of the large drain.

Baines signalled. He was here in this hell. Baines could smell him. The team of seven agents crouched and made their way down the dark corridor towards the cell.

They found the heavy steel door and heaved it open. There was a narrow corridor leading to another door. They padded through and stopped at the entrance to the cell.

Suddenly, on the signal, the team burst into Sebastian’s cell. A rope from the ceiling. In the corner, Baines saw Harper and Levene, lying together. The harsh lights hit their faces.

‘Where is he, Detective?’

Harper shook his head. He had no idea. Sebastian had cut the light. Baines handed Harper a shotgun and a flashlight. ‘We’ve gotta keep searching. Hold on.’

Baines pointed to a small sluice grate in the floor. The men went across to it and shone torches through. It was big enough for a man, but not a man in gear or boots.

Baines didn’t speak. He took off his gear, helmet, night visor, webbing, boots, body amour. The team followed suit.

Baines dropped to the floor and with difficulty slipped through the gate. He dropped down five feet and then crouched. He signalled for the team. One by one, the hostage rescue team slipped into the sewer in bare feet, vests and combats.

They crouched and shone their powerful torches down into the darkness. Seven separate beams of light flickered around a large arched tunnel. There was a narrow ledge either side of the central stream.

‘How deep?’ Baines asked.

Agent Santana didn’t wait. He jumped in and stood up. The level was at his knees. ‘Couple of feet.’

Baines nodded. ‘We got to move quick. He’s got a lead on us and he knows these sewers. We want him alive.’

They moved out in single file, like a team of marines in a jungle river. Rats scuttled by on each ledge, sniffing the air and moving on quickly. The tunnel ran ahead but they couldn’t see how far. Baines set up a fast pace and the cavern echoed to the sound of the team driving through the sludge.