Absolute silence ruled over the room. Even the air seemed to stop moving.

‘You have until that clock reaches zero,’ Graham said. ‘Not a second more.’

CLOCK: 0:47, 0:46, 0:45 . . .

SAVE: 33,570.

EXECUTE: 33,601.

‘It’s a simple choice, Detective Hunter,’ Graham continued. ‘An innocent life for a guilty one. If you put the gun to your head and pull the trigger, she lives. I guarantee it. No harm will come to her. But if that clock reaches zero and you are still standing, I will blow her brains all over this room with no hesitation and no equivocations.’ He cocked his gun. ‘What happens after that makes no difference to me. Like I said, MSDarkDays’ fate isn’t in your hands. There’s nothing you, or I, can do to change it. But your partner’s wife’s is. Do you understand what’s happening here, Detective? I want to know if you are prepared to save her in the same way you were prepared to save my son, or will you try harder this time?’

Hunter said nothing.

CLOCK: 0:28, 0:27, 0:26 . . .

SAVE: 33,888.

EXECUTE: 33,903.

‘I want you to take your own life just like my son took his,’ Graham said in an indignant, disgusted voice. ‘I want to watch you do it just like you watched him do it.’

A million things were going through Hunter’s mind at that moment, but he knew he had time to consider none of them.

‘Police officers have to be prepared to put their lives on the line for others, isn’t that right, Detective Hunter? But are you really prepared for it or is that just a bullshit motto? Would you give your life for someone else’s, Detective? Would you give your life to save an innocent one?’

CLOCK: 0:16, 0:15, 0:14 . . .

SAVE: 34,146.

EXECUTE: 34,155.

Hunter knew he had run out of time. He also knew that he had underestimated Graham Fisher, because out of all the possibilities he had run through in his head of how his encounter with Graham could’ve ended up, blowing his own brains all over the floor had never been one of them.

He now understood that Graham had indeed played him all along. This had always been the grand finale to his master plan. As Graham had said, he wanted to watch Hunter take his own life, just like Hunter had watched his son, Brandon Fisher, take his. Only then would Graham’s revenge be complete. And he played it to perfection. Even broadcasting the final act to Garcia so he could watch Hunter decide if his wife lived or died.

Hunter had no counterplan, no more time left, and in truth only one option. He knew Graham wouldn’t falter. When that clock reached zero, he would end Anna’s life right there and then. He had the same determination in his eyes and in his voice as his son did that night on the bridge. He wasn’t looking for help, or salvation. His decision had been made a long time ago.

‘Ten seconds, Detective,’ Graham said.

Hunter looked at Anna, not an ounce of doubt in his mind anymore.

He brought his gun to him and placed it under his own chin, but didn’t shut his eyes like most people would have. He kept them open . . . proud . . . staring straight ahead.

A 9mm bullet will enter someone’s skull and exit at the other side in three ten-thousandths of a second. It will shatter the cranium and rupture through the subject’s brain matter so fast the nervous system has no time to register any pain. If the angle in which the bullet enters the head is correct, the bullet should splice the cerebral cortex, the cerebellum, even the thalamus in such a way that the brain will cease functioning, resulting in instant death.

Hunter placed his gun in the best possible angle to achieve such a result.

CLOCK: 0:04, 0:03, 0:02 . . .

Hunter held his breath.

One Hundred and Sixteen

Neither Garcia nor Captain Blake could believe what they were witnessing through the computer monitor on Hunter’s desk.

CLOCK: 0:10, 0:09, 0:08 . . .

SAVE: 34,146.

EXECUTE: 34,155.

‘Is this for real?’ Captain Blake asked, and for the first time ever Garcia heard fear in her voice.

He didn’t answer, didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. His eyes were cemented to the computer screen. Dread was pumping through his veins like poisoned blood. He didn’t even notice his hands shaking.

CLOCK: 0:06, 0:05, 0:04 . . .

SAVE: 34,184.

EXECUTE: 34,196.

Hunter finally moved, and, as he did, time seemed to slow down for everyone.

First, his left hand let go of its grip to his gun. Then his eyes saddened in a way Garcia had never seen before, as if he knew there was nothing else he could do. As if he knew he had been outwitted and outplayed by a smarter opponent.

After that, Hunter’s right arm folded back in the direction of his body, bringing his gun with him.

‘Oh my God!’ Captain Blake brought both hands to her face, covering her nose and mouth. Just like Garcia’s, hers were also shaking.

Hunter raised his gun and placed it under his own chin.

The captain felt an enormous pit open up inside her stomach. She knew Hunter well enough to know that he would give his life to save someone else’s, never mind someone he knew, someone as important as his partner’s wife. She felt tears come to her eyes and squeezed them tight, wishing that when she reopened them she’d find herself back in her room, waking up from a terrible nightmare. But she knew that that wouldn’t happen. That day was as real and as hard-hitting as she would ever have.

Captain Blake kept her eyes shut. She knew exactly what was about to happen. She didn’t need or want to watch it happening.

Garcia, on the other hand, kept his unblinking eyes wide open, taking everything in. He saw the moment the look in Hunter’s eyes changed from sad to serene, as he recognized and accepted that he really had only one choice.

CLOCK: 0:03, 0:02, 0:01.

At that exact instant, as if programmed by Graham, the images on the screen faded to total darkness. As it did, and just before the broadcast went completely offline, they heard the faint sound of a single gunshot being fired.

‘No, no, no . . .’ Garcia jumped up and grabbed the computer monitor with both hands, shaking it. ‘What happened? What happened? Where’s the picture?’ His heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. Desperation took over him, because there was no way he could be sure if the shot had come from Hunter or Graham’s gun.

One Hundred and Seventeen

CLOCK: 0:03, 0:02, 0:01.

And that was when Hunter’s gamble paid off.

Graham had been right. From that distance, Hunter only needed half a chance, and he would hit the target ten times out of ten.

Graham had said so himself – he wanted to watch Hunter take his own life. The problem was, from where Graham was hiding, his direct line of sight to Hunter was blocked by the high-backed metal chair that Anna was strapped to.

Hunter kept his eyes wide open, staring straight at the chair, waiting for his chance. As the countdown clock reached 0.01, Graham Fisher did exactly what Hunter was expecting him to do.

First, Graham shifted his attention from his own gun and from Anna. Then he subtly moved sideways, partially abandoning the safety of his shield. In doing that he was forced to expose just a little more of his body, while craning his neck to get a better glimpse at something that he just wouldn’t want to miss – the closing act to his master plan.