'Maybe at your barracks, we can go somewhere more private?' she said. Where I can kill you and escape. Maybe I can escape.

Oh God, I'm not brave enough for this.

'Who needs to wait until we get back?' said the Sergeant, grinning horribly. 'They'll take you straight off my hands when we get back. No ... we can be more private here, my lovely.'

Harker found himself running back through the streets, almost blind, seeing nothing, hearing the echo of Eve's words with every step his stupid feet took.

'We can go somewhere more private ... more private ... co-operative ... private ...'

She was supposed to be mine.

Of course she'd sparked something in him. She'd made them all like her, but who had she paid most attention to? Who had she provoked and teased and flirted with? The guy in charge, that's who. Gain his confidence, and nothing anyone else says can touch you.

Charlie was right, he thought as he hauled himself over the wall and out of the city. She was bloody right.

So much panic arose in Eve that things went black for a moment, then she found herself in an alley with the Sergeant pushing her against a wall, pawing at her dress, fumbling with his own clothing using both his hands, his gun slung over his shoulder Eve's knee shot up, right into his groin, acting almost without thinking about it, and as he yelped and doubled over she shoved at him and ran.

She got almost to the end of the alley before the crack and whine of a gunshot rang out, and things went black again.

He'd been there ten minutes when Banks came panting up, looking worried. 'Sir, I can't find her, do you know where'

'Get in,' Harker said, starting the engine.

'But, sir, what about Eve?'

Harker blinked, and when he did he saw Eve walking away with the enemy Sergeant.

'She ain't coming,' he said.

Chapter Twenty-Three.

Eve came to when someone threw cold water on her face. She was lying on a stone floor, her leg throbbing and her head doing a decent job of keeping up. She'd ... what the hell had she done to end up like this?

Harker, the school that kiss, she smiled and then the soldiers ... Her smile faded. The Sergeant. She'd so nearly escaped. But someone ... one of his men must have seen her running because her leg was throbbing and bleeding and she thought, she wasn't sure but she thought she'd been shot.

Shot. With a goddamned bullet. Shot.

I want to go home now.

About a metre in front of her was a carved stone pillar, the sort of thing you might find in a church, but leaning against it was a man in a Coalitionist uniform. It had braid and things on it, so she guessed he was an officer.

She attempted to sit up. It didn't go well.

'State your name,' said the officer.

'No.' It came out as a croak.

'State your name.'

'Why? Are you going to set me free if I give you the right one?' She wasn't chained or handcuffed, but she didn't really need to be. Her leg hurt incredibly. Eve had never broken a bone or been seriously injured before, and she was discovering that the pain was incredible. She was having trouble concentrating because of it.

I've probably lost a lot of blood, too. Bet they don't care.

Clearly they didn't, because as Eve was thinking that, the officer gave a nod and a large boot aimed itself at Eve's ribs. Gasping with new pain, she turned her head and saw the sort of large, bald man traditionally hired by villains to beat people up and enjoy it.

This man could have come from Central Casting. He gave Eve a toothless grin.

'My name,' she wheezed, 'is Louisa Butcher.'

There was a tapping sound. Someone behind her was using a computer.

'Who was the man you were with?'

Eve licked her lips. 'My boyfriend. And I tell you something, he's a liar and a bloody cheat, because he told me he wanted' She grunted as the boot hit again.

'His name,' said the officer calmly. He looked totally normal, neither handsome nor ugly, but well-built and clean-shaven.

Think of Harker clean-shaven and smiling instead. There's a thought to keep a girl warm on cold nights.

'Kevin Hayes,' she said. 'He's a teacher. And he's married.'

More tapping. The officer glanced at whoever was behind her, then back at Eve, his expression remaining blank. Charlie could do the same thing. Harker, too. Daz had called it Officer Blank. He was still practising it, apparently.

'No, he's not,' the officer said. 'We have no Kevin Hayes on record as a teacher.'

'Well, did you spell it right?' Eve said, wondering why she was even bothering. 'It's H-A-Y-E-S, and did you check him as maybe a lecturer, or tutor, or something else?'

'Don't play games with me, young lady,' said the officer. He straightened up and moved over to a fireplace. There was a poker hanging next to it.

Eve had a sudden terrible premonition.

'I'm not playing games,' she said. 'Look, I want to get out of here. If I tell you what you want to know, will you let me go?'

'Perhaps,' said the officer, and yes, he picked up the poker and stirred the fire with it. Eve was mesmerised by the way the tip heated up and brightened in colour.

'Well, what do you want?'

'Who are you working for?'

'I' she began to say she didn't understand, when an idea came into her head. Dulled by pain and fear, her brain wasn't functioning at full capacity, but she figured this one had legs. More legs than her attempt at seduction, anyway.

'The army,' she said.

The officer took a deep, satisfied breath. 'Your rank?'

'I don't have one. I'm not a soldier. They just co-opted me as a civilian.'

'What was your mission?'

'I they didn't tell me. Not totally. I was a civilian,' she repeated quickly, because he had the poker in his gloved hands now and he was bringing it closer, closer Take good care of your hands, and they'll take care of you, said a long-forgotten session musician in her head, as the poker swung and Eve's right hand darted out to stop it, because it was glowing and he was going to smash it into her face, and if Harker could survive without his little finger then she could live through this But it hurt, dear God, it hurt, and she could hear the sizzle of her own flesh as her eyes met the officer's.

That's taken Officer Blank off your face, she thought, watching the surprise flash over his features. That's right, I'm not afraid of you.

Well, I am, but I don't want you to know that.

'Captain Sholt,' she said. Sweat poured down her face, stung her eyes and made her blink, losing that brave eye contact. 'Of the 75th Infantry. He was in charge. You want him.'

The officer stared at her for one more long moment. Eve thought she might pass out. She could smell something disgusting, and a distant little part of her said, That's burning flesh, you're cooking your own fingers.

Then he pulled the poker back with a ripping sound she really didn't want to investigate, and his gaze flickered to the man at the computer.

'Captain Sholt,' he said. Waves of pain threatened to drown Eve. Above her, she saw the officer talking but above the blood pounding in her ears she couldn't hear a thing.

Then the officer leaned closer and said to her, 'What's his first name?'

Eve stared up at him, speechless, and a cruel smile twisted the officer's face.

'No, I didn't think so,' he said softly, and to the big thug he added, 'Put her in the cells.'

'No,' Eve said, as she was grabbed by the huge man's meaty hands. 'No, you said you'd let me go, and'

'I said perhaps,' said the officer, smiling thinly. 'Take her away.'

No, Eve thought, picked up and slung over the thug's shoulder. Her right hand hung limp and she stared in horror at the useless, charred flesh of her fingers.

Harker didn't sleep. He threw his civilian clothes on the floor, lay down on his cold bed and stared at the ceiling. The cuts on his shoulder throbbed, and he tore off the bandage Eve had wrapped around him to shy it at the wall, where it failed to make any sort of impact at all.

Unlike Eve. He'd seen mines leave smaller craters.

I'll totally make it worth your while.

And he'd believed her. He'd believed her when she had clung to him after the skirmish at the Fen Causeway. He'd believed her when she had fought with him about those songs how did she know them, anyway? And those songs about France, what an idiot he was!

He'd believed her when she had kissed him.

That was the problem. He'd wanted to believe her, and been willing, desperate in fact, to believe her. He'd made excuses and allowances, and he'd pretty much talked himself into trusting that, despite a total lack of evidence, she was innocent. All because she was the first woman who'd sparked anything in him since Saskia.

You were an idiot, Harker, he told himself savagely, rolling on to his back again and staring at the ceiling, his eyes burning. You were a bloody idiot, and I don't know what the hell you were using for brains but it wasn't what you keep in your head.

He fought for his country. For the army, and for England. He'd done it all his life. He'd never been distracted before. He'd forgotten what was important.

He should have listened to Charlie. He'd known her twelve years, and Eve less than three weeks. Stupid Harker, stupid, stupid Harker.

This morning I woke up with her soft and warm in my arms. This evening I kissed her, and the world went away.

Tonight I hope she rots in hell.

The cell was dark, and it was cold. Things scuttled. Eve thought she might have been underground. But then, she thought she saw leprechauns at one point, so she wasn't entirely certain she was thinking straight.

Her leg hurt so intensely it sucked away huge chunks of consciousness. Waves of pain throbbed through her, and when she had a second to concentrate on her ribs, they didn't feel so good either.

But her hand ... that didn't hurt much at all. It was red and black and white, like the old joke about the newspaper, and she couldn't move it much, but it didn't hurt a lot.

Harker will come for me, she thought. He said he would and he keeps his word. He'll come and get me, and he'll look all dishevelled and heroic, and he'll carry me back to the Chase where we'll have hot sweaty sex and everything will be fine.

Weak as a newborn, she curled on the floor, cradling her ruined hand, watching the leprechauns and singing softly to them.

'Are y'sure you won't be staying?' asked Sir Dennis as Harker chain-smoked his way through the day and watched Banks and Tallulah pack the wagon. Tallulah kept casting him sullen looks. He didn't know what her problem was. She wasn't the one who'd been hoodwinked.

'No. We have to get to Hull. Thank you for your hospitality,' Harker said, the words coming without him really thinking about them, just as they had yesterday at Martindale's funeral.

If it wasn't for Eve, would she still be alive?

No. Don't start that.

'I called the Tower, sir,' Charlie said, coming out into the cold stable yard. 'The Humber Bridge is being blown up at midnight; we have until then.' She hesitated.

'Yes, Lieutenant?' Mention Eve and I will hurt you.

'Sir, about the location we saw on the computer yesterday ...? I didn't say anything to Wheeler's aides, but'

'Good. She's going to have to get some top people on that machine, make sure it's not all been made up for our benefit.'

Charlie's eyes narrowed. 'You think it was a fake?'

'I think the army's right, Charlie,' Harker said, watching Tallulah load Eve's guitar on to the wagon. 'Never do anything without proof.'

He went back inside the warmth of the house in search of some alcohol with maybe a hot drink in it. He could take up drinking. That might be something to do.

Saskia always said you were too cocky. She said one day, doing things your way would backfire on you.

He stomped up to the drawing room, ignored the piano, and started raiding the drinks cabinet Sir Dennis thought was well-hidden.

'Major Harker?' said someone, and he looked round to see one of the footmen standing there. 'A young lady for you, sir. She came to the back door.'

His heart leapt. Stupid heart. 'Did you recognise her?'

'No, sir. She said her name was Mary White.'

That got his attention. Straightening up, he followed the man down to the kitchen, where Mary was indeed standing, holding Emmy back against her, both of them wide-eyed at the size of the kitchen and the scale of the activity.

'Mary,' he said, and she looked up at him. If it wasn't for Frederick I'd get Sir Dennis to hire you here. 'What are you doing here?'