Jason sped through the darkened lanes of rural Cornwall, he used no navigation other than an internal one, one that told him which way to turn when he approached the appropriate junction. He nipped the last of the Jack out of his hip flask and tossed it into the passenger footwell. He could have done with more; his body was operating on the least amount of booze that it could before the shakes would set in. He knew that if they came on at the key time it could be the end of his plan. He was close now, a few miles at most, and he knew that once he’d shot all three of those f***s, the building, or that sweet darkness that dwelt within it, would require his life too, and that was fine, that was okey-dokey with him.
On the seat next to him sat the zipped-up holdall that contained the three-ro
