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supplies in reserve. It was prudent.
    He turned on the radio just as Big Ben’s chimes rang out. Perfect. The midnight news. An ordered way to end the day, a round-up of all that he should know. He didn’t need to any more, didn’t have to be on constant alert to be despatched to some far corner of the former empire, but it was a wise habit to retain.
    He washed his face to news of an unexpected rise in interest rates. That was irrelevant, the flat was rented and he had little in the way of savings now, just what he would need for these last days of life. He concentrated on his teeth, brushing gently but firmly, up and down, just as the army dentist had taught them. The money was gone, the preparations made and he had enough to live on until it was time to put the plan into action, however long that took. It was just a question of when. He couldn’t predict when it would be, but the time would come and he would be ready.
    He rinsed his mouth with the anti-plaque wash to news of a threatened strike in the Health Service. That shouldn’t matter to him either, but it might to those he planned to visit. He noticed a slight smile in the mirror at the thought.
    He picked up the portable radio and carried it into the kitchen, made his sandwiches to news of another terrorist attack in Israel. Two rounds, wholemeal bread. He’d had cheese and tomato today, so tomorrow’s would be tuna and cucumber. An apple and a pear in the lunch box too, along with a bottle of fresh water.
    Twenty past midnight, his watch said. Life was exactly on schedule, as ever. He never took the watch off, checked its accuracy each day by the Greenwich time signal, another habit his time in the forces had brought. Another good habit.
    Time for bed. Ten minutes laying there, in the dark, then the radio off when the news had finished. Seven hours of sleep, exactly what years of experience and training had taught him his body required.
    He lay down, closed his eyes, breathed deeply. Now some breaking news, the presenter intoned. Just a few lines of copy, only thirty seconds of information, but enough to have him sitting upright again, reaching blindly for the light switch.
    A man, shot dead in Cornwall by police marksmen. It was believed to be the result of a domestic row. An investigation would be carried out. It was the second such shooting by Greater Wessex police in five months.
    His life changed then. It was the long-awaited moment. The beginning of the end. They had done it again. The vicious, murdering, bloodthirsty bastards, killing with their usual easy impunity, never a regard for the effect it had on the lives of those left behind. But, this time, they would be sorry. Now, at last, they would finally be brought to account for what they had done.
    He hardly slept that night, the angry memories erupting in his head. The night Sam had saved his life, despite the slashing, puncturing wounds he’d suffered from the merciless knife. His gratitude, the first time he could remember crying since he was a boy, how’d he’d looked after Sam, nursed him through those critical days. How they’d been together until the night Sam had again tried to save him, but this time could not, and had paid with his life.
    The dark rage made him brittle as he lay in his bed, unmoving, eyes open, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing. Even the golden, creeping dawn didn’t stir him. The insistent alarm only forced itself into his consciousness after its twelfth set of escalating electronic chimes.
    7.25. He reached out, stopped it, but still lay there. It was time. It was sooner than he’d expected, but he was ready.
    It was finally time.

Chapter Two
    D AN GRABBED THE HANDLE above the door, checked his seatbelt. Nigel had passed his advanced driving course three months ago, and the results could be alarming. The car rocked as they cut straight across a blind bend on the wrong side of the road. Streetlights blurred past. Dan had to resist the temptation to close