Where the Shadows Lie (Fire and Ice)

searched for somewhere to hide.
    Before it had erupted, Magnus had noticed that the floodlight was a couple of feet forward from the fence bordering the next yard along. He ran directly towards it, reached the fence and crouched down. He was in deep shadow. No chance of the man seeing him through the dazzling light.
    The man appeared on top of the fence and dropped down. He paused to listen. Silence.
    Magnus was breathing hard. He swallowed, trying to control it, to make sure he didn’t make a sound.
    The man stood stock still, peering around the garden. Magnus had realized he had made a mistake. The guy had heard the silence. Heard the lack of running footsteps.
    He knew Magnus was in the yard.
    Magnus’s plan had been to catch the guy as he ran through the yard, grabbing him from behind. That plan wasn’t going to work.
    For a second the man looked straight at Magnus. Magnus stayed motionless, praying that his theory about the light would hold. It did.
    Cautiously the man examined a shrub. Then another. Then he stood still again, listening.
    The floodlight was motion-activated. No motion, no light. It went out.
    Magnus knew he had a second or two before the man’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He also knew that if he ran straight, the man would shoot at the sound and he would take a bullet. So he ran a couple of paces forward and jinked to the left, a fullback slicing through the defence.
    A shot rang out, the flame from the barrel illuminating the man’s face for a fraction of a second.
    The man moved his gun to the right, pointed it straight at Magnus, aiming high.
    So Magnus dived low, a football tackle directly at the man’s knees. Another shot, just a little too high, and the man went down.
    Magnus wriggled and lunged for the hand holding the gun. He grabbed the barrel, and twisted it up and towards the man. Another shot and the sound of broken glass from the house. A satisfying snap and a cry as a thumb broke, jammed in the trigger guard. The man’s free hand reached over Magnus’s face grappling for his eyes. Magnus bucked and wrenched the gun away, rolling back and on to his feet.
    He jabbed the gun into the man’s face.
    He wanted to pull the trigger; he wanted so badly to pull the trigger. But he knew it would lead to all kinds of problems.
    ‘Get up!’ he shouted in English. ‘Stand up, or I’ll blow your head off!’
    The man slowly raised himself to his feet, his eyes on Magnus, breathing heavily.
    ‘Get your hands up! Move over here!’
    Magnus could hear shouting in the house. ‘Call the police,’ he yelled in Icelandic.
    He pushed the man along the side of the house and out on to the street, and shoved him against the wall, his face pressed against the corrugated metal. Now he had a problem. He wanted to tend to Árni, but he couldn’t risk leaving the man uncovered.
    He considered once again blowing the guy’s brains out. He was tempted.
    Bad idea.
    ‘Turn around,’ he said, and as the guy turned towards him, he transferred the gun to his left hand and whacked the man with a blow to the jaw with his right.
    The pain shot through Magnus’s hand, but the man crumpled. Out cold.
    Magnus knelt down beside Árni. He was still alive, his eyelids were fluttering and his breath was coming in short gasps. There was a hole in his chest, there was blood. But there wasn’t that horrible wheezing sound of a sucking chest wound.
    ‘It’s OK, Árni. You’ll be fine. Hang in there, buddy. You’re not hit too bad.’
    Árni’s lips began to move.
    ‘Shh,’ said Magnus. ‘Quiet now. We’ll get an ambulance here in no time.’
    Someone had called the police, he could hear the sirens coming closer.
    But Árni’s lips continued to move. ‘Magnus. Listen,’ he whispered, in English.
    Magnus moved his head close to Árni’s face, but he couldn’t quite make out what Árni was trying to say, just the last word, which was something like ‘Bye’.
    ‘Hey, no need to say goodbye now, Árni, you’re gonna make it, you’re the Terminator, remember?’
    Árni moved his head from side to side and tried to speak again. It was too much for him. The eyes closed. The lips stopped moving.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
    M AGNUS JUMPED INTO the police car that led the ambulance to the National Hospital, lights flashing, sirens blaring. It took less than five minutes. He was elbowed away by paramedics pushing Árni through corridors and double hospital doors. The last Magnus saw of his partner was his feet