Kim sighed. “I really should have told him he’d get off scot free, shouldn’t I? But I had to stick the knife in. Stupid and vindictive. I do hate it when I see a family resemblance in myself.”

“You couldn’t predict he’d keep siding with Knowle,” Will said. “Nobody would.”

“Oh, I could have. Knowle’s played him like a fiddle throughout, and Chingford has never found it easy to accept he made mistakes. Not to mention he’s desperate to keep his damn fool secrets. He’ll want to silence me, and you have severely dented his self-esteem, not to mention his head. If I were him...well, there’s a lot of ocean in which to hide bodies.”

“What about your father? He might put up with helping Knowle escape but he surely won’t wear that.”

“I rather think that Chingford is getting impatient waiting to step into his shoes,” Kim said, voice flat. “I think that’s the promise Knowle made him: accelerated inheritance. And, as I say, there’s a lot of ocean out here.”

Will turned to stare at him. Before he could frame a reply, Phoebe and Knowle emerged from the galley with a pitcher of water and a pile of rather haphazard sandwiches. She gave Kim the plate; Knowle took her off again, saying, “You may see Miss Jones when you’ve finished.”

Will made himself eat and drink slowly, taking the chance to look around. The yacht was about a hundred feet long, with a teak deck and brass fittings and lots of white paint. Nice and shiny. The sides went up to mid-thigh height and there were no railings. That seemed a bit rash to Will, given the up-and-down and side-to-side way the bloody thing moved, and how close they were to the water. He didn’t think it would be much fun in a storm.

Chingford was a few yards away, guarding them; he couldn’t see Anton. Lord Flitby was in the little cabin, steering or whatever it was captains did. Knowle was doubtless around somewhere.

It was deep twilight now, the stars coming visible in a deep purple-tinged blue sky that Will would have appreciated more if he hadn’t been filthy, tired, and seethingly pissed off. There was absolutely nothing around them except sea, endless sea, and the gathering night. No boats. No land. Nothing at all. They were on their own.

“So he’ll wait till we’re on our way back, right?” he murmured.

“Maybe,” Kim said. His face was turned into the breeze so it whipped his words away. “But once Knowle leaves, he’ll be seriously outnumbered. I suspect he plans to get rid of you and me before then, no matter what Knowle would prefer, and assumes Father will help him sail back till we’re in sight of land.”

“Right.”