There was a third man.
Waiting offshore in a dinghy with an outboard motor.
I saw the pain instead of experiencing it. Flashing white, followed by bursts of blue and red. My body didn't collapse and hit the ground. The slimy mud moved up, and then against my cheeks and mouth.
Pain in my left leg, spurting and flowing to the foot. Up through my thigh and into my body.
Sciatica.
The exertion brought it back.
My body could only take so much.
Things were happening.
He struck my right knee with something. Caused me to collapse.
Now he raised it to strike again on my head this time.
I raised my right arm to ward off the blow. Another explosion of light and sound. I yelled again. Snatched with my left hand. Gripped the butt of the rifle he was wielding.
He was stronger and bigger than me. I held the rifle-butt. Never releasing it until I died.
Even then, he required to prise my fingers from it.
My right is hot with pain.
I clawed at his face, pressing with my thumb into his eye-socket.
He screamed, the eye moved.
I pulled the rifle, but then, instead of trying to wrench it free, he pushed it onto me. On my neck. I choked.
I pushed and twisted. The rifle was hard against my windpipe. I brought my right leg up and sensed the impact of his testicles.
Nothing.
I lost consciousness.
A sound. Something heavy hitting the earth. His weight on me was gone.
Several seconds before I could see. A shape in front of me.
A gaining form and detail. Clarissa.
Unrecognisable.
Her skin was pale as a corpse. Drenched. Her hair and clothes plastered flat against her. She held a piece of concrete from a disintegrating pillbox.
She dropped it. Stood there. Looked through me with dead eyes. She swayed as if she may fall. I glanced. There was no sign of my attacker.
I called out to Clarissa. Got to my feet. I knew there was pain. Damage in my arm and leg, a distant memory.
I held her close in my arms; we were both trembling. Frost and fear. I looked into her eyes.
"Clarissa," I shouted.
She didn't answer. Her eyes rolled. Desperate for sleep. I remembered my attacker.
Where was he?
He could hurt me.
Out of the darkness?
I saw him.
The force of Clarissa's blow knocked him off the bank.
Where the remains of the pillbox stood.
He slipped into the sea.
The shape of his body showed in the water.
Pushed by the tide. That was now at its height. Slack tide. Not long before, it ebbed again. He lay on his back.
One of his legs was deep in the soft, gluey mud.
He looked unconscious. His eyes flickered open. Looked up at me. He lifted his bashed blood head. Occasional waves swept over him. He choked with a horrible gurgling sound. He couldn't move.
I stared at him.
My first thought was to stand there. Watch him die. I needed information. I laid Clarissa on the ground. Stood up, whimpering with pain. The world rocked around me. Small lights exploded inside my skull.
I shuffled, half-slipping, along the bank a few paces from where he lay. I took a tentative step into the mud. See if it held my weight. My leg is straight to the knee. Only by grabbing on a rough bush do I drag myself free.
The throbbing in the other leg made me howl. Unable to reach him.
Another choking, gurgling sound. I didn't know if he asked for help. The sound of death. With my numb, fumbling fingers, I undid my belt. Pulled it free from the pleats of my jeans.
"Catch hold of this and pull," I said.
I held the buckle and tossed the leather belt across the gap separating us.
He lifted a hand but missed.
I tried again.
This time, he grasped it.
"Get a good grip," I said.
He wrapped the leather round his hand, pulling me closer to him. I hauled as hard as possible. His weight shifted towards me.
A small part of me was aghast.
I was trying to save the life of a Russian assassin.
The man who killed Alexis Fawx.
And tried to kill Clarissa Briggs.
His weight shifted back again. The belt tightened. The sucking sound beneath us. The tide was going out at last. Shingle, grit, and debris of the muddy shore with it, drawing out. The Russian was away too. His body drifting from me.
"Hold on," I gasped, straining to drag him towards me.
Now his weight pulled me. I slipped, knowing that if I held on for too long, I might join him in the sticky mud. We stared at one another. The belt is tight between us.
I let go. The belt curled towards him. He slid back. Drawn by the steady tug of the tide. The waves washed over his face. The moon glimmered on to empty waves.