But another agent intervened to prevent Rannick reaching whatever conclusion he was intending. An image of wild, purposeful eyes, flying hair and a screaming mouth came into Nilsson’s distorted focus.
And a knife! Glinting, keen-edged, even in the dull light that pervaded the yard.
Its very sharpness cut through the unreality that was binding him.
The wife!
He swore.
A reflex brought his arm out and his mind watched his hand closing about the sleeve of her dress. He felt its fresh, soft texture.
Without a flicker of hesitation, Katrin yielded her gripped arm to him totally and in so doing remained free to move. Spinning round, she slashed the knife across her would-be captor twice. Again, old reflexes saved him as he released his grip and arched himself backwards away from the blade.
