For an instant Rutledge had a solid grip on the man’s upper arm, spinning him as they got to their feet, but his boots slipped in the bruised grass, and Summers broke free. He ran, only to fall headlong over something underfoot. Rutledge lunged forward, missed him, and saw him race toward the church porch and the deeper shadows of the apse beyond.

Rutledge gave chase, launched himself at the figure just ahead, and brought Summers down, knocking the wind out of both of them.

Rutledge was the first to recover, but the other man was fast, and breathing hard, he set off again, back the way he had come, toward the west door of the church. He got it open before Rutledge could stop him, and then tried to slam it shut, catching one of Rutledge’s hands as he did.

Setting his teeth, Rutledge pulled at the edge of the door, bracing himself, and when Summers suddenly let the door go, it opened so fast that he was flung against the carved stone arch. He nearly cracked his head against the protruding foot of a saint, but using the wall as a fulcrum, rebounded with such speed that he was inside the entrance to the church before Summers could manage the inner door into the sanctuary. Something brushed his face, and he grunted with shock at a touch so close and so human. Then he realized that it was not a hand but the frayed end of the bell rope. He caught it again somehow, and leapt high on it, coming down with all his weight on it.

High above in the tower, the bell clanged with a deafening discord.

Two short blasts of a whistle—it was the nearest he could come to the signal for needing help. But before he could ring the bell again, Summers was on him, knocking him to one side. Rutledge whirled as he crashed into the wall, expecting Summers to be in front of him now.

He judged it wrong.

The garrote this time brushed his ear and he jerked sideways, knocking against the low table where church information and items for sale were usually kept. It went over in a crash, and Summers yelled in pain as one of the legs unexpectedly clipped him, and he went down.

They were fairly equally matched, although Rutledge had the advantage of height. He felt for the wildly swinging bell rope, caught it, and leapt high a second time. But Summers reached up as he was scrambling to his feet, and seized Rutledge’s ankle, pulling him back. Still, he managed to keep his grip on the rope, and again the bell sounded a harsh note, rocking on its cradle to ring a second and then a third time before Summers could stop him.

Kicking out with his free foot, Rutledge caught Summers in the throat, for he choked on a cough and released his hold.