Taplow, Berkshire, England.

Zlatan Hujsak strode quietly towards the Village Hall. Strains of music reached his ears, interspersed with chatter over the PA system. A party, or celebration of some sorts. A vague, half-remembered thought of a wedding reception passed through his mind, instantly forgotten again in the swirl of emotions in his head. A celebration. Hujsak would only celebrate when he had disposed of the man he had come for. He owed himself that much.

Absentmindedly he stepped aside to let a car pass him, barely hearing the crunch of gravel beneath its tyres over the blood pounding in his ears. His breathing quickened with each step. Someone was definitely inside the hall. It had to be him. Had to be.

Breathless, Corinne Mckinnon made her way back to the table. "Dance?" she asked.

"In a bit. I can't do the Macaroni." Thomas Warner laughed, sipping his Bitburger.

She sat next to him. "It's the Macarena dummy. I thought you were driving." She said sternly, looking at the drink in his hand. He pointed to the label. Bitburger Drive, alkoholfrei. "No alcohol. You want to show me how to do the Mozzarella later?"

Corinne smiled evilly. "You had better move and let Uncle Billy through. We don't want him falling out of his false leg again. He's been packing it away."

"Not bad for an old-guy."

She elbowed him lightly. "Younger than some I could mention."

"So I'm twice his age?" Warner shrugged. "Need a hand Uncle Billy?"

Billy waved him away. "No sense a young'un like you fussin' over me."

Corinne shot him a quick smile.

"Room for a little one?"

"Marcus! You're six-four! The only thing little about you is your bank balance." Corinne laughed, ignoring the look her sister gave her.

Ho-ho, Warner thought. If looks could kill.

"It's healthier than his." Marcus jerked his head towards Rod. "Twenty three years and four kids later they finally marry. Same again?"

They nodded.

"I won't make you wait that long." Warner kissed Corinne's head. "I promise."

As she snuggled into him he tensed, sensing another. Not now damn it. Not now.

He looked to the door, locking eyes with Hujsak, feeling the coldness of the stare, and waves of regret. He had run from this for too long. Hujsak would never be able to see reason, he knew that. There was only one way to end it. Hujsak nodded at him and turned away.

Warner returned the nod and rose from his chair as Hujsak left the building. Corinne, sensing something was wrong grabbed his arm. "What's up?"

"Someone's around. I'm just going to see who it is. I'm not expecting anyone."

"Do you have to?" she pleaded, managing to sound angry at the same time.

"This is what I do. I'll be back soon." He kissed her gently. "I will come back."

Corinne turned her back as he left the table, a morose expression on her face, seething inwardly. Marcus set the tray of drinks down on the table, and began to distribute them. "Where'd Tommy go?" he asked her.

"Outside for some air. It's too stuffy in here for him." She spoke quietly.

"You ok?"

"Yeah."

Damn this game of theirs.

Soho, London. 3 months earlier.

Cold steel pressed against her throat.

"Perhaps you didn't understand me? You come down here, you have to pay the toll. Be nice to me and my man over dere an' maybe we give you a discount? Understand?"

She nodded weakly, aware of the pressure of the blade increasing slightly.

"Marlon, me first then you. Got that?"

"Got it."

"Well little lady looks like you and me gonna have ourselves a par-tee. Weesa gonna get jiggy. You got no money so we'll take the honey."

She stiffened, before submitting herself to her fate. Please let this be over quickly.

"Let her go." The firm voice rang out like a shot in the dark quiet of the alley. The tall stranger stood firm looking at the two thugs. The hooded man turned to him, contempt plain in his voice.

"Ain't nothing down here for you shithead. This is our place. Get outta here, or you get hurt. Simple."

Thomas Warner glanced at the woman, saw the pleading in her eyes. Help me, please help me…

"Let her go, or it's you that'll be hurt."

"Waait-man you stupid? This is my patch. I be doin' the hurtin' here, not you. Marlon, gut this freak."

The younger guy, Marlon pulled out his own knife and advanced on Warner. Warner examined the tough, readying himself. Yes, he'd seen this type before. A baby-faced killer, a knife-fight veteran, confident in his own ability. A kid, trying to fight in an adult world. Hopelessly outclassed, and about to learn the hard way, just how limited his abilities were.

Marlon lunged forward clumsily, his right arm swinging in an arc, looking to plunge the blade deep into Warner's abdomen. Straight in, straight out, and all over. It had worked every time before. This would not be any different.

Warner whirled out of range, shaking his head. "That's a meleé weapon kid. You got to get close to stab. You slash at range."

Angry, with the miss and stung by the taunts Marlon lunged again. Warner sidestepped and kicked him behind the knee. Marlon buckled and sank to the ground, but didn't let go of the blade. Warner looked over at the woman and her assailant.

"You come one step close mu-fucker I kill the bitch. I kill her."

Warner's gaze hardened. He was too far away to take the man down, and Marlon, although hurt, was not out of it yet. Decision time. Call the bluff.

Knowing how he would react, Warner turned to face Marlon, offering him his torso, the biggest target. Limping, Marlon thrust forward, expecting to feel the scrape of blade on bone, knowing that this time Warner had messed up, that victory was his. Knowing that he would get the woman first as his reward.

Warner grabbed the outstretched wrist and pulling Marlon towards him, butted him in the face. Marlon's nose exploded. Dizzy and disoriented he felt blood run down his face, tasting the metallic liquid on his lips. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't…

Warner pulled him in again, smashing his right elbow into Marlon's jaw. The knife slipped from lifeless fingers as unconsciousness took over. One down…

The woman's screams pierced his ears. Warner spun and saw the knifeman holding a reddened blade. "I told you I kill the bitch." He screamed. "I told you. Now it your turn. I gonna slit you good for what you do to my man Marlon. You gonna die like this bitch."

Angry enough to kill, Warner charged him, avoiding the blade as easily as he had Marlon's. He punched him in the ribcage twice, causing the assailant to gasp for air, the knife forgotten. Warner then grabbed a handful of hood and hair, and rammed the knifeman's head into the wall repeatedly. When the body went limp he let go.

"Arsehole" he spat, the knifeman's victim momentarily forgotten.

"My god, my god, my god." The woman moaned. The woman's voice snapped him back to reality. Warner ran to her and cradled her on the ground. The gaping wound in her chest bore testament to the blade's entry. Bubbling blood showed him that her lung had been punctured. Right on target, and just a matter of time.

"Help is on its way" he told her as he pressed on the wound, hoping to stem the bleeding, knowing all the while it was futile. He opened his phone and called for the emergency services.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Lindsey." came the gasping reply.

A cold hand gripped his soul. Lindsey was the name of Zlatan's fianceė, the girl they were meeting at Leicester Square.

"Lindsey, help is on its way. I'll stay with you I promise. I'll stay with you."

His heart grew heavy as he told the lie. "You'll be ok. I promise."

Thomas Warner followed Zlatan Hujsak into the field behind the Hall. Strains of music from the party reached their ears, mingling with the sound of traffic and the wind as it blew gently. All in all, a pleasant summers evening. How fitting, Warner thought, that for one of them, it should be the last. He would not strike down his friend from behind. Feeling the weight of his sword in his hand he spoke first.

"Zlatan, I'm sorry about her. Truly I am."

Hujsak's reply barely rose above a whisper. "It was your fault. She died because of you."

"Zlatan, I tried to help. I…"

"You had to be a bloody hero didn't you?" Hujsak roared. He whirled and pointed his sword at his former friend, stabbing it forward in emphasis. "That piece of scum warned you, but you had to be Superman. You could have called for help, you could have called me! She was not like us. We can recover. You," his voice cracked. "You are responsible for her death as much as he was."

"Was I supposed to let him rape her?"

"If he had, she'd still be here!"

"You don't honestly mean that."

"Don't tell me what I do and don't mean. You could have called the police earlier, but you didn't. You could have seen to her straight away but you didn't. You wanted the glory of destroying both of them. You wanted to immortalise your name. You wanted to feed your goddamn ego."

Warner shook his head. "Zlatan, please I…"

"You took away the person who meant the most to me in the whole world. Do you know what it feels like?" He swung his sword at Warner who stepped back and blocked.

"This won't bring her back Zlatan."

Hujsak swung again. "No. But it will bring her peace!"

The music stopped abruptly as the lightning flashed outside. The lights flickered and dimmed before coming back on. The music restarted as suddenly as it had stopped.

"Sorry folks, I don't know what happened there. Some kind of surge caused by the storm I think." said the DJ. "Anyway on we go." He turned up the volume.

Corinne sat ashen-faced at the table, shaking. Uncle Billy reached over and took her hand. "You ok lassie? Scared o'the storm are ye?"

She nodded gently.

"Ach you'll be aright. Yon' Tommy'll be back soon, nae worry."

"I hope so." She whispered.

Please God no. Not Tommy please. Not him, not now.

Thomas Warner collapsed on his knees, breathing heavily, looking at Zlatan Hujsak's lifeless body. He closed his eyes remembering the hate filled thoughts, the anguish and sorrow that Hujsak had felt over Lindsay's death, as his essence rushed through him, momentarily consuming him before disappearing. Remembered feeling Hujsak's dismay when he realised he had over-stretched and left himself vulnerable to the final blow. He hung his head, grateful that it was over.

He stiffened suddenly, senses alert, body not ready to respond to another challenge. Breathing deeply he called out, "So are you going to take me whilst I'm weak?"

There was no response, just the stranger's soft breathing.

"Am I to die at the hands of a coward?"

Adrenaline stimulated his body, his strength returning. Ready, if necessary.

"Relax. If I'd come for you, you'd be dead already." Andrzej Staniek picked up the fallen Hujsak's sword. "No, this is what I came for."

He turned it over and ran his thumb down the blade examining it with a critical eye. "Hmm a single-edged Cossack Shashka. A reasonable weapon," he glanced down at Hujsak's body, "In the hands of one who knows how to use it. I prefer the Karabela myself, but beggars can't be choosers."

He turned back to Warner. "Get back to your party. It's done out here."

Carrying the sword in his left hand he began to walk away, his back to Warner, into the darkness. Warner rose to his feet and glanced after the departing assassin. He inhaled deeply, raised his sword, and charged.

Staniek whirled, switching hands with his sword and knocking the stroke away. Too late, Warner remembered how he had used a similar trick on the street tough. Staniek grabbed him with his free hand and pulled him close, burying a knee into his groin.

Warner collapsed to his knees again, gasping for air, before feeling cold steel prick his flesh. Staniek recalling his encounter with DuBois in France, used the sword to raise Warner's chin, wary of any movement.

"Bad move sunshine. However, I'm going to let you live. For now. Most people don't get second chances with me. When I want your head, I'll come back for it. Keep it warm for me."

Warner placed his hands over his sore groin as he watched Staniek vanish into the night. "Bastard." he swore softly.

"There he is." said Uncle Billy. "I tol' ye he'd aback soon lassie."

Corinne rushed to him and flung her arms around him, tears flowing freely. "I was afraid I'd lost you." She whispered between sobs.

Warner paused, remembering how close he had come. "No, I'm still here. We can live in peace again. The trouble's gone now."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her tear-stained cheeks.

"Corinne Elizabeth McKinnon, will you marry me?"