Two fingers! Do it slowly! Kick it over here.” Ghost’s voice brooked no argument.

He took the pistol from his waistband as ordered, thumb and index finger forming a loop through the trigger guard.

“Now drop it and kick it over.”

“Do it,” said the other man. Beads of sweat dappled his face, his cheeks flushed red.

The pistol clattered against the grime-encrusted floor tiles.

“Now you!” barked Ghost.

The man she had followed held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not armed.”

“Lift your shirt and turn around slowly. Go easy!” she warned, her own weapon never wavering.

The younger one stared at her intently. His voice was full of accusation and contempt. “What’s with the mask? What are you, a ninja?”

“Get on the floor with your hands behind your head. And you in the hat, keep turning.”

The younger one half-turned and spat on the floor. “You’re shaking me down? Do you know who my uncles are? You’ll pay for—” Then he launched himself towards her, a wild punch ripping towards her masked face.

Ghost dodged the uppercut, but her weapon discharged high above her head. The suppressor fitted to her Glock 19 took some of the roar from the shot, but in the confines of the bathroom it still sounded like a telephone directory being slammed against a tabletop.

Then he was on her. Clamping tight onto her wrist with both hands, he forced the pistol up and away from his body. Another shot punched a hole through the tin roof. Ghost grunted as she was slammed back against the wall with enough force to send yellow sparks dancing across her vision. The wall buckled behind her, the corrugated metal screeching. He had no real skill but plenty of savage intent. He slammed her gun hand into the wall repeatedly. Behind the two struggling combatants, the man in the outdated hat stared on, motionless.

She knew better than to try to match her attacker in strength. Instead she brought her knee up, aiming for his groin. As he dodged her initial blow by jerking his hips back, she wedged her shin high against his chest. For a moment, their bodies strained against each other, then she brought up her other leg so both her knees were perched high on his muscular chest.

Too late, he realised his mistake as the barrel of the suppressor angled down towards his startled expression.

Blooomph!

The single shot punched a neat hole through his face just below his left eye. As the man dropped dead beneath her, she fell with him. Her head hit the wall as she landed hard on her butt.

The man in the hat, her real target, made a lunge for the door then realised it was stuck. “No, no, no.”

The dead man lay in a tangle of limbs, a crimson halo decorating the tiles beneath him. His dead weight wedged against the inward swing of the door. Grasping one of the dead man’s arms, the man in the hat tried to pull him clear from the door. “Move, damn it!”

Ghost climbed to her knees and reached for her fallen sidearm.

With a yelp, the man abandoned the idea of trying to move the dead body. He turned, his gaze fixing on the dead man’s pistol. His shoulder bounced off the stall door as he lunged for the fallen weapon. Then the porcelain cistern exploded just above his head. He turned onto his side, his hand frozen, dithering a mere six inches from the pistol.

“The next one goes in your head!”

Water began to flow from the ruined toilet, the ballcock bobbing like a feeding bird. Large triangular shards of porcelain lay scattered like toy boats in the spreading water.

“What do you want with me?” asked the man.

Ignoring his question, Ghost took a step closer.