pocket as he tried to remember where he had put the knife. It bounced off the wooden planks of the balcony and tumbled into the darkness of the courtyard below.
  "Here!" Walsingham shouted having found the knife. He held it out to Ashe, utterly oblivious as to what had just happened. For a moment Ashe just stared and then Helen screamed once more and the terror on Walsingham's face â made all the more horrible for the scant slit of light he could glimpse it in â pushed him on. He would have to hope the box was easily found once they had dealt with⦠well, with whatever the hell was going on in the cabin.
  He shoved the knife blade into the gap between the shutters, sliding it up and down to find the catch on the other side. It was basic enough, a length of wood that held the shutters in place running across the gap between the two doors, hinged on one end. Once found he flipped it up with the knife and shoved the shutters inward with the butt of his hand. "Back!" he shouted at Walsingham, kicking out at him so as to stop him shov ing his face in the window and having it blown off by whoever was wielding the rifle inside. Nobody fired. Ashe tried to think what he knew about old firearms, which wasn't much. Didn't old rifles have to be reloaded after each shot? He pictured old Westerns he'd seen⦠Audie Murphy ejecting the spent casing and sliding another shell in place. Not that whoever was inside hadn't had time to reloadâ¦
  "Helen?" Walsingham wasn't hanging back, whatever the risk he needed to make sure his wife was okay. Well, thought Ashe, that explains that one anyway, he loves her sure enough.
  "I'm alright," she called back, "it's Haywood, he'sâ¦"
  "Shut your mouth!" Haywood screamed.
  Ashe â deciding that if anyone was going to get shot through the window they would have done by now â joined Walsingham.
  Inside, Helen was huddled in the far corner of the room. Haywood was pointing the rifle at her. Of the major there was no sign⦠wait⦠on the floor a semicircle of blood was reaching out from beneath the window. Great, looked like they'd found the major.
  Haywood was constantly on the move, his body shaking as he paced back and forth, the rifle's aim never leaving Helen's head. It seemed he had little interest in Ashe or Walsingham.
  "Haywood!" Walsingham shouted. "If you hurt herâ¦"
  Ashe grabbed Walsingham and put his hand to the man's mouth.
  "I'll handle this," he whispered.
  He tried to keep his voice steady, to sound calming rather than confrontational. "It's alright Haywood," he said, "everything's fine now. We can sort it all out."
  "The bastard's going to shoot my bloody wife!" Walsingham argued.
  Ashe shot him a look that shut him up. "I know what I'm doing," he said. Yeah sure , a little voice piped up in his head, because you've seen all the best movies. He turned back to the window. "Let us take over from here," he said. "Let us get this all squared away."
  "You have no idea," said Haywood, "this bitchâ¦"
  "Is pregnant," said Ashe, "she has a baby. You would have noticed if you weren't so ill, wouldn't you?"
  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Walsingham's face crumple. There, it was out in the open now, much good it'll do him.
  "Pregnant?" Haywood said, the rifle twitching slightly as a fraction of uncertainty crept in. "You're pregnant?"
  Helen looked at Ashe and, even in these extreme circumstances, her anger at him was profound.
  "Yes," she said finally, turning her attention back to Haywood.
  He stared at her, blinking repeatedly, trying to focus. Whatever drug was coursing through his system it was really doing a number on him. "Pregnant?" it was no more than a whisper⦠he just couldn't process this new information. Ashe thought they might just stand a chance if they could keep
  "Here!" Walsingham shouted having found the knife. He held it out to Ashe, utterly oblivious as to what had just happened. For a moment Ashe just stared and then Helen screamed once more and the terror on Walsingham's face â made all the more horrible for the scant slit of light he could glimpse it in â pushed him on. He would have to hope the box was easily found once they had dealt with⦠well, with whatever the hell was going on in the cabin.
  He shoved the knife blade into the gap between the shutters, sliding it up and down to find the catch on the other side. It was basic enough, a length of wood that held the shutters in place running across the gap between the two doors, hinged on one end. Once found he flipped it up with the knife and shoved the shutters inward with the butt of his hand. "Back!" he shouted at Walsingham, kicking out at him so as to stop him shov ing his face in the window and having it blown off by whoever was wielding the rifle inside. Nobody fired. Ashe tried to think what he knew about old firearms, which wasn't much. Didn't old rifles have to be reloaded after each shot? He pictured old Westerns he'd seen⦠Audie Murphy ejecting the spent casing and sliding another shell in place. Not that whoever was inside hadn't had time to reloadâ¦
  "Helen?" Walsingham wasn't hanging back, whatever the risk he needed to make sure his wife was okay. Well, thought Ashe, that explains that one anyway, he loves her sure enough.
  "I'm alright," she called back, "it's Haywood, he'sâ¦"
  "Shut your mouth!" Haywood screamed.
  Ashe â deciding that if anyone was going to get shot through the window they would have done by now â joined Walsingham.
  Inside, Helen was huddled in the far corner of the room. Haywood was pointing the rifle at her. Of the major there was no sign⦠wait⦠on the floor a semicircle of blood was reaching out from beneath the window. Great, looked like they'd found the major.
  Haywood was constantly on the move, his body shaking as he paced back and forth, the rifle's aim never leaving Helen's head. It seemed he had little interest in Ashe or Walsingham.
  "Haywood!" Walsingham shouted. "If you hurt herâ¦"
  Ashe grabbed Walsingham and put his hand to the man's mouth.
  "I'll handle this," he whispered.
  He tried to keep his voice steady, to sound calming rather than confrontational. "It's alright Haywood," he said, "everything's fine now. We can sort it all out."
  "The bastard's going to shoot my bloody wife!" Walsingham argued.
  Ashe shot him a look that shut him up. "I know what I'm doing," he said. Yeah sure , a little voice piped up in his head, because you've seen all the best movies. He turned back to the window. "Let us take over from here," he said. "Let us get this all squared away."
  "You have no idea," said Haywood, "this bitchâ¦"
  "Is pregnant," said Ashe, "she has a baby. You would have noticed if you weren't so ill, wouldn't you?"
  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Walsingham's face crumple. There, it was out in the open now, much good it'll do him.
  "Pregnant?" Haywood said, the rifle twitching slightly as a fraction of uncertainty crept in. "You're pregnant?"
  Helen looked at Ashe and, even in these extreme circumstances, her anger at him was profound.
  "Yes," she said finally, turning her attention back to Haywood.
  He stared at her, blinking repeatedly, trying to focus. Whatever drug was coursing through his system it was really doing a number on him. "Pregnant?" it was no more than a whisper⦠he just couldn't process this new information. Ashe thought they might just stand a chance if they could keep
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