Michael

twenty-four

Once Michael's suggestion of staging a fake showdown with special constabulary troops was agreed, the planning went crazily fast. Carl Cabrera got on the phone, and within hours both the time and location were set: dawn at the newly built 'Didascalium', a catechetical seminary of immense size in the heart of the Cathedral quarter. As a public institution it would be well covered by CCTV and easily quarantined. Troops loyal to the chief constable would choreograph the set-up, and ensure the militia was kept out of the fight zone. Their apparent deadly intent to finish Michael, and the complication of hostages, should keep Sauvage and Ickle happy enough to leave the constables to do the dirty work. To Liz, it all felt rushed and fraught with pitfalls. Any scrap of influence or control over events she'd gained in the last week had evaporated. Michael had neatly manoeuvred it so she had no part to play in this plan.

Pride was a false and dangerous friend, and kissing cousins with resentment. Liz battled with both as the three men went through the final preparations before leaving the abbey. To top it off, she was worried sick, making for a turbulent mix of emotions. More than once, she'd considered complaining, only to realise this was no time for a sense of entitlement or pique because she was no longer an active player. The consequences of failure were simply too dire to screw around with. In the bigger picture, it didn't mean a thing that she'd been through hell just to survive this far. Her part was done, the curtain had come down and it was time to take her bows. Michael was alive and the SC knew he was innocent. She couldn't fight Gabriel and had no credibility to go up against Sauvage and the Privy Council. She was useless now.

If she kept repeating it to herself, Liz was hoping acceptance would sink in.

She was furious with Michael. He made no effort to talk to her, which was probably a good thing. Every time she saw him, she wanted to heave the nearest suitably heavy object at his arrogant head.

In her less rational moments she brooded and then seethed. Who the hell did he think he was? Why were his feelings more important than hers? Why wasn't she allowed to take any risks while he took them all?

Her emotions were in mid seesaw when Cabrera pulled her to one side. "There's a big flaw in this plan and I need you to plug it," he told her bluntly.

Liz's gaze swept the cavernous hall, instinctively searching for Michael.

Cabrera noticed and enlightened her. "Thane is outside with Harry, giving him a quick training session on the vehicle model Harry will have to fly. I waited until now so we wouldn't be overheard."

"All right," Liz said, "What's the hole and how am I the plug?"

"Michael is wilfully blinding himself to another possible reaction by Gabriel. Instead of going after his son, the asshole may realise that since you two have split up, you're now unprotected and vulnerable."

Liz frowned, doubtful. "You think he'll come after me instead of Michael?"

"It's not out of the realms of possibility, Liz. Psychopaths like Gabriel live to gloat. Given a choice, he'll go for you first, trust me. Hurting or killing you would be the ultimate goad to Michael, and probably tip him into doing something dumb. Don't underestimate your impact on both of them."

"You seem to know a lot about psychopaths," noted Liz, dryly. "Also, you're forgetting something. Gabriel doesn't know where I am, but he will know where to find Michael. He has no choice but to go for him."

"True, but he may decide to waste time looking for you and we don't have the time to waste. We need this over quickly. If the onsite siege goes on too long, the constabulary could be pulled out in favour of the militia, and then we lose all control."