In the meantime, he had a more immediate problem. He twisted as he dangled, turning around to face the water, where he could see Simon swimming towards an exposed, jutting shard of the crippled turbine. Simon got an arm around the metallic outcrop and was able to take a grip with one hand, steadying his aim with the other as the growing swirl tugged at his body.

'I've one last question for you, Larry,' he shouted, finger on the trigger. 'How does it feel to know you'll never see your son grow up?'

Ray looked him in the eye one last time.

'You tell me, Simon.'

Even across the foaming, spraying water, Ray could see the doubt, the confusion, the questions suddenly written on Simon's face, but he never got to ask them. A second, more powerful rumbling shuddered around the cavern, upon which Simon lost his grip on the shard and was pulled into the quickening swirl. He fired two shots but missed by more than ninety degrees as he was spun wildly in the current. After that, he let go of the gun, needing both hands to try and stay above the surface. Both hands, however, weren't enough.

Ray looked down at his feet, which were now at least a yard higher above the water than when he first fell. The rumbling had been caused by the tailrace reopening, causing rapid changes in pressure all through the submerged levels as the excavation began to rapidly drain. He scanned back across the spiralling pool, but could not see any sign of life. Then the artist formerly known as Simon Darcourt resurfaced one last time, before being swallowed 495.

up and flushed away like the piece of shite he was.

[LGG] 10 [TL] -2 .

'Suck it down,' was Ray's parting shot.

'You talkin' to me?'

Ray looked up to see Angelique standing over him, bending to grip his wrist with both hands.

'You took your time,' he complained, judiciously waiting until she had helped him back over the edge before doing so.

'I lost him when the lights went out. I thought he'd gone back into the Control Room.'

'I could have used your leet skillz.'

'Who am I compared to you? Four guys with one shot. Sign of a misspent youth, I reckon.'

'No. You need to misspend your teen years, late adolescence and much of adulthood to learn tricks like that.'

'Come on, let's get those hostages. And grab a gun; we don't want any more last-minute surprises.'

Ray forcefully prised a machine gun from one of his electrocuted victims, the process of looting a fallen foe again proving a lot more bother than online, where you just walked over them and at the most pressed your 'Use' key. He checked the safety was off and took hold of the weapon in both hands, the first time he'd ever held a real gun. It was cold and heavy, a thing of ugly brutality. He remembered the aftermath of Columbine, factions in the US media blaming Quake and Marilyn Manson. Computer games and rock'n'roll.

Aye, right.

They made their way down the slope together in silence, exchanging dread looks at the lack of noise emanating from behind the steel door. Then they heard a definite thud, the dampened sound of metal on metal.

496.

'Hurry,' Angelique said, running the rest of the way and lunging for the door handle.

'Hang on,' Ray warned. 'You might want to-'

But it was too late. Angelique turned the handle and the door flew open, throwing her backwards as several hundred gallons of water and at least two dozen flailing bodies washed out of the room. The water came up to Ray's feet where he had sensibly remained, a few yards up the slope. He sent Angelique a smirk that was rewarded with a single finger, then began wading down to assist.

Ray was offering a hand to the nearest spluttering hostage when out of the corner of his eye he caught a glint of metal. 'Gun,' he shouted to Angelique, both of them instantly pointing their weapons at the backs of two drookit figures who were getting to their feet, machine guns swinging from straps around their shoulders.

'Drop them,' Angelique commanded. 'And turn around, slowly.'

They complied without argument, which was when Ray could see that they were actually on their feet, but a good half-metre shorter than everyone else. The kids looked back and forth at their captors.

'Don't worry, we're the good guys,' Angelique assured them.

'Whit aboot the terrorists?'

'We owned them,' Ray said, grinning.

Suddenly, one of the kids gaped, face filling with astonishment.

'Mr Ash?' he asked, incredulous.

'Fuck, Lexy, so it is,' confirmed the other.

'What are you doin' here? I mean . . .'

'We're havin' a serious truancy crackdown at Burnbrae. You pair are in a lot of trouble.'

497.

'No way,' said 'Lexy', which would make him Alex Sinclair; the other one Jason Murphy.

'Naw. He's an undercover agent, aren't you?' Murphy ventured. 'You were just at the school as part of an operation, in't that right, tae track these guys doon? I mean, nae offence, we knew you werenae a real teacher.'498.

attaboy, clarence .The car pulled into Kintore Road just after ten o'clock. Ray sat in the back with Angelique, a police driver up front at the wheel. Neither of them had said much all the way down, but he was grateful for her company nonetheless. In such an aftermath, it would have been difficult to be with anyone else, and she probably felt that way too.

Ray pointed out the house in time for the car to stop just before his front gate. The living-room curtains were drawn, a dim light playing behind them. The driver opened her door, clearly intending to get out and escort Ray, but he told her not to bother, and thanked her for the trip. Angelique reached for her doorhandle as Ray opened his.

'A word before you go,' she said, climbing out of the car and out of earshot. She winced a little as she got to her feet, clutching a hand to her rib cage.

Ray stood up and faced her across the roof of the Rover.

'Make sure you get some rest,' she said. 'Baby or not. You're gaunny be givin' statements for about a week.'

'I'll try.'

'And, ehm . . . It's up to you, obviously, an' I wouldnae want you to be anythin' less than truthful, but if you could maybe see your way clear . . .'

'To not mentionin' the fact that you destroyed a few million quid's worth of power station?'

'Eh, that, aye.'

499.

'It all happened so fast, officer. The details are a bit of a blur.'

Angelique grinned. 'Sleep tight, Ray.'

She got back in the car, which pulled away and left him standing before the garden path leading to his wee mortgaged house, his beloved wife and his infant son. His 'ordinary, anonymous little life,' Simon called it.

Ray called it home.

He put his key in the lock and smiled.

500.

burnbrae academy: the sage wisdom of wee murph.'I heard he's a fanny. I'm gaunny rip it right oot him.'

'Naw, Ger, seriously. I don't care how hard you 'hink you are, or how long you've been suspended. I'm warnin' you: do not, under any circumstances, ever, ever fuck wi' the new English teacher.'

501.

one last rock'n'roll song: synchronicity II.'Hell of a result, de Xavia. No arrests, though, I notice.'

'You better be takin' the piss.'

'It just looks better on the records.'

'You are takin' the piss.'

'I suppose they're a lot less bother this way. Plus, they never sue.'

'How many bodies have been recovered?'

'Ten, including the security guard. There were six around the machine hall, one - well, parts of one - at the dam and the divers found two more washed out into the loch.'

'We guessed there were twelve on their team. The rest must have been obliterated by the blast. Wait a minute, you say only two in the loch?'

'That's right. One with half his chest missing, apparently, and another with a broken neck.'

'There wasn't one with a spear through his throat? I left him in the tailrace too.'

'I believe he was found in the machine hall.'

'And Darcourt?'

'Not so far. The currents caused by that outflow can be pretty strong. The divers are still working, but they said his body might never be recovered.'

'Where have I heard that before?'