The blonde man pulled Jake’s arms around behind his back and wrapped the cable tie around his wrists, as well as the central column that held the back of the chair to the base, securing them tightly together. He produced another tie from his pocket and used it to bind Jake’s ankles. There was no way he was going anywhere now. The man walked back to the window and looked out. Jake could see that Melvin was still speaking.

The gun was propped up against one of the equipment racks. The German sauntered over and scooped it up. He unclipped the ammunition cartridge and popped out a number of bullets, which disappeared into his pocket. After slotting the cartridge back into place, he returned to the window, and raised then gun sight to his eye.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re going to kill Melvin?” Jake said incredulously. He struggled against the fastenings, trying to get free, but there was give, he was stuck fast.

“Shut the fuck up, if you don’t want to see your intestines ripped out and spread across this desk,” the blonde said without looking around.

Jake did as he was told.

Forty-Six

THE SCRUFFY MAN opened his mouth to speak. If any words escaped his lips, they were never heard. The crack of the gunshot rang out from the back of the auditorium. The noise bounced off the walls, the stage, and the specially placed acoustic surfaces suspended from the ceiling, deafening everyone present for a split second. A red dot appeared in the forehead of the election candidate. The back of his head, along with his brain, was spread over the black curtain that lined the rear of the stage. He crumpled to the floor as if someone had let the air out of him.

Somebody screamed. Then, everybody screamed.

“Everybody get down!” Flynn shouted from the stage. His words went largely unheard. Anyone who could get to an aisle was already running for a door. Those sat further from the exits either cowered in their seats or curled up on the ground.

A second shot rang out. It hit Melvin’s right arm. He cried out in pain, grabbing the wound.

“No!” Flynn shouted. He threw himself in front of Melvin, pushing him out of harms way just as a third shot was fired. It caught him in the shoulder, and he fell to the ground with a squeal of pain.

The fourth shot found its mark and Melvin’s head exploded, his brain tissue and bone mixing with that of the scruffy man on the black curtain. His body fell backwards, crashing to the floor.

Flynn struggled to his knees. It was pandemonium. More people were scrambling to get out. But they couldn’t, because all of the doors had been locked. Those people nearest the exists were being crushed by the weight of the mass of bodies pushing forwards.

“Quiet! Everyone stop pushing!” Flynn shouted as loud as he could. He got some attention, but it hardly made any difference.

The four shots had all been fired within a few seconds. When a minute had passed with no further gunfire, Flynn managed with some effort to get back on his feet. That got the attention of some more people, and the panic abated a little. He looked around and spotted a couple of big guys who had been sitting in the front row. They were crouched on the floor, but were not hysterical, they appeared to be holding it together.

“You two, with me!” Flynn called out to them, pointing. Clutching his wounded shoulder he jumped from the stage and started to run up the central aisle of the theatre.

“He’s in the lighting room, look!” he yelled breathlessly.

The two men looked in the direction of Flynn’s outstretched hand and finger, and sprinted after him. Other people also stopped what they were doing and watched the election moderator charge towards the back of the theatre.

“Watch out! He’s got a gun!” someone shouted near the back.

As all eyes followed Flynn, he galloped towards the lighting control room window. Framed within was a man holding a semi automatic rifle.

Forty-Seven

FROM HIS POSITION tied to the chair, Jake had a perfect view of events as they unfolded. He watched his blonde captor shoot the scruffy man on the stage. He saw him shoot at Melvin. He watched the moderator dive to protect Melvin, and the two subsequent bullets which injured the moderator and killed Melvin. He waited for one last bullet which would surely kill the moderator, but it never came.

As soon as Melvin was down, the man stepped back from the window and turned to Jake. His hand went into his jacket pocket and came out grasping a something thin and black. He squeezed it. A steel blade shot out, perfectly polished. He took another step forwards.

Jake, who only hours before thought he was no longer afraid of dying, found himself very afraid indeed. He closed his eyes, and waited to feel the blade on his neck, or through his heart. But he felt neither. Instead he heard a light snipping sound, and the tension around his ankles was gone. He opened his eyes but the blonde man was nowhere to be seen. Then, another snip, and his hands fell free. He jumped to his feet and whirled around.

“Congratulations,” the blonde said, “you just committed double murder. Catch!”

He threw the gun at Jake. Instinct kicked and he caught the weapon in both hands. The man opened the door, released a catch on the lock, exited the room, and pulled the door closed behind him. Jake stood for a second, stunned into silence. He had no idea what had just happened.

It was then that he became aware of the noise coming from the window behind him. There had been screaming since the first gun shot, but the commotion had changed, it was less screaming and more shouting. He turned to look.

“Watch out! He’s got a gun!” he heard someone near the window scream out.

He looked down. He was still holding the weapon. He looked up. The election moderator was headed his way at a charge, followed by two burly men.

• • • • •

Flynn reached the window. The glass had been shattered by the bullets, leaving a carpet of tiny sparkling granules covering the floor.

“Son, don’t do anything stupid. Give me the gun,” Flynn reached out a hand tentatively.

Jake looked at the gun in his hands as if he couldn’t believe it was real. He dropped it like a hot potato, jumped backwards, away from the window.

“Get in there and pin him down!” Flynn shouted at the two men who had followed him. They scrambled up through the opening and across the lighting control desk. Jake didn’t move, didn’t fight back as the men grabbed an arm each.

Back in the theatre the panic was subsiding. The gunman had been stopped, there was no longer a danger. Now the people were migrating towards the back. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the madman who had just killed the two candidates in cold blood.

“Jake? Is that you?”

The voice came from behind Flynn.

“You know this man?” Flynn turned and asked him.

The man stepped forwards, to better see through the window. Jake recognised him at once.

“Know him? That’s Jake Noah. He is, was, the captain,” the man said.

“Martin! No! This isn’t what it looks like!” Jake cried out. Seeing his chief engineer had snapped him out of his state of shock.

“This is Noah?” Flynn asked. “This is the man who walked away from the captain’s chair? The man who left us without a leader in our time of greatest need?”

“No, that’s not true and you know it,” Jake protested. “Melvin came to depose me. You were there, one of his heavy mob, I saw you!”