“Hurry, damn you!” Bone yelled.
I turned, mid-crouch, and launched my body at them both.
I hit them hard, my head down and my arms wide. I dove into them chest-high, hoping for my momentum to break Bone’s grip on the knife without driving it into Sophia’s neck.
It worked. Bone’s hands flung wide and he lost his grip on Sophia. But he still held the knife tightly as his arms pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance while the force of my hit drove us all back, into the water, between the two boats.
The cold washed over me as we hit and I tried to roll to the side, giving Sophia what room I could. I had no idea if she could swim or even keep her wits about her, but I knew this was her only chance at survival. I could have simply run away, and gotten help in time to capture Bone. But that would have left Sophia a corpse.
Which she still could be in short order. Hands tied behind her back, she might only have seconds before she breathed water. I dove down, trying to see in the murky water. Legs thrashing-Sophia. She’d managed to get clear of the boats and into the middle of the canal. The water was soaking my wool uniform, my boots getting heavy, my legs aching from the cold and the effort to swim with all this added weight.
I saw Bone. Swimming the breaststroke, metal blade in one hand cutting through the water towards Sophia. I swam up, breaking the surface and gulping air.
“Bone!” I shouted, hoping he’d break away from Sophia to deal with me. She was churning in the water, the gag loose in her mouth. She caught sight of Bone and turned her body away, arching her back and diving like a seal, her legs kicking ferociously. She disappeared and Bone came at me, less than two yards away, bringing the knife down in a slashing arc that missed my face by an inch. I dove for his knife hand, came up empty, and back- paddled away from him.
We both looked around for Sophia, but she was gone.
Bone swam closer, knife at the ready. I was breathing hard, the weight of my clothes dragging my limbs down. Holding my head above water took all my energy. Bone was dressed in lighter clothes, and his insane energy fueled each stroke. He slashed at me, not close enough to hit, but to drive me back, to tire me out in the middle of the canal.
I spotted a ripple of bubbles close to the shore. Sophia, alive, I hoped.
Another slash, this one catching on my arm, slicing through my jacket. I felt nothing, but I could tell the blade was sharp by the way it went through the fabric, and probably flesh. I kicked, trying to swim backward, to keep Bone away from Sophia and to escape his blows. I went down once and took a gulp of canal water, choking as I came up.
“Tired, Captain?” Bone shouted. “Let’s put an end to this then.” He was next to me in a second, treading water with one arm and raising the other to strike.
Sophia broke the surface several feet behind him. Her hands were in front of her, still bound, but holding a rock. She flung it at his head and it caught him in the back of the neck. Bone was stunned and turned to face this new threat, forgetting about me for a split second. I surged forward, reaching for the knife hand again. I got it this time, pulling him down, beneath the surface, the weight of my boots and clothes working with me now. I held his wrist with one hand and went for his throat with the other while he punched at my face, the blows cushioned underwater. He’d made a fatal mistake. I could take those hits for as long as he dished them out, but my grip on his neck was solid. His arm trembled as he tried to work free of me, but I had the advantage now.
I kicked upward, desperate for air, dragging Bone after me in a terrible imitation of how he had dragged Sophia. I got my head above water and drank in the air as Bone’s face rose up with me, halting inches below the surface. I felt my hand tighten around his throat, crushing his windpipe as his eyes widened, staring at me in mute horror as I breathed in the precious oxygen he craved. He bared his teeth as his arms and legs kicked and thrashed, his neck muscles straining to get his head above the waterline. My arms ached as I kept him under, feeling his brute strength rising up, but not far enough. I watched him, and waited. Finally his mouth gaped open as his lungs gave out, a torrent of bubbles rising from his lips. His arm went limp and the knife slipped away. I pushed him down with both hands, a trail of small bubbles finally giving way to nothingness. I held him down until I felt my own strength give way, and then kicked my feet against his chest as he went further under and I made for land, hoping it wasn’t as far away as it looked.
CHAPTER THIRTY — FIVE
I don’t know how I got ashore. Sophia was beside me, trying to break the cloth strips that bound her hands by rubbing them against the hard edge of the dock. She was crying. Who wouldn’t be?
“Here,” I croaked, rolling over and digging my pocketknife out. She shrieked and skittered away from me. I opened the knife and beckoned her closer, too exhausted for words. She came closer, offered her bound hands to me as if they were a gift, and I cut the wet fabric.
“Is he gone?” Sophia asked, her teeth chattering from the cold, the terror fading from her face.
“For good,” I said. “For all time.” I wanted to say you don’t have to worry about him, but she might spend a lifetime doing just that. Remembering and wondering what she’d done to deserve that treatment.
“I’m cold,” Sophia said. I got up and took off my sodden uniform jacket, then realized it would do her no good. Her schoolgirl cotton dress was soaked and torn, but there were no marks I could see.
“Let’s see if there are blankets inside. Then we’ll get you home.” I held out my hand.
“That’s his place. I can’t go in there. I won’t.”
“Okay,” I said. “Wait here.” I retrieved the key and opened the door. Inside was damp and musty. Dust coated the few pieces of furniture in the sitting room. A shotgun rested against the wall by the doorway. I found a blanket in the kitchen, draped over a rocking chair by the stove. I was feeling dizzy, and made my way outside, unsteady on my feet.
Sophia was standing on the bank, looking out over the canal. Downstream, something dark floated in the water. It could have been Bone, or a tree branch.
“He’s really dead?” she asked.
“Yes.” I put the blanket over her shoulders and turned her away from the canal. “Are you injured?”
“No,” she said in a small voice. She shook her head, a silent acknowledgment of the injuries that didn’t show. “But you are.” She pointed to my arm. Bone’s blade had cut me across the bicep, on the same arm I’d cut breaking into his shop. I hadn’t felt a thing before, probably from the cold water and a good dose of shock.
“Maybe I should get us both to the doctor,” I said. “Just for a quick look. Okay?”
“Okay.” She let me lead her to the car, but I could tell she didn’t want to get in.
“It’s all right,” I said. “You’ll be up front with me.” I opened the door and she got in, after turning it over in her mind. Like she’d probably do for the rest of her life. I got in and watched her fidget with the cloth still tied around her wrists.
“Is it really over?” Sophia asked.
“Yes.” Her small voice reminded me of another woman who’d gone through an ordeal with a madman. If I could find Diana, bring her back from her SOE exile, perhaps she’d be able to talk to Sophia. It might help both of them.
“What’s your name? He called you captain, didn’t he?”
“Billy Boyle. Yeah, I’m a captain in the army. But you can call me Billy if you want. I like it better anyway.”
“Billy,” she said, trying it out. “Were you looking for me?”
“Yes. A lot of people were.”
“I wish you’d come sooner,” she said, her face cast down to the floor. “But thank you.”
I couldn’t say you’re welcome. I pressed the starter and drove to Hungerford, careful to avoid High Street and the sweet shop. My arm hurt like the devil, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was Sophia, and the days and nights she’d been a prisoner. I’d been sure there was a connection between Stuart Neville and the kidnappings, but I hadn’t been able to work it out in time. Neville saw something in the building plans or in the shop itself that raised his suspicions. It must have been churning in the back of his mind, which is probably what caused him to warn Eva Miller. Maybe he would have gone to the police the next morning. Bone had sensed it, his
