Will went up the stairs, keeping low. It was quite dark now and a lantern hung in the steering cabin, illuminating Lord Flitby. He was looking ahead. Will couldn’t see anyone else. He crawled to the edge of the yacht, letting his eyes adjust to the dark, and made out a bulky silhouette standing at the rear.

Kim’s head emerged silently from the hatch. Will pointed at himself and jabbed a thumb towards the rear of the boat, then indicated that Kim should go up the other side. The sides of a boat had names, he knew, port and starboard, only he couldn’t remember which was which. That was going to annoy him. There was salt on his lips, seasoning the familiar phantoms of mud and blood.

He slid forward in the shadows, silent across the oiled teak planks. As his eyes adjusted, he could see that Anton was looking out over the waves.

Some people had strong views on attacking a man from behind. Well, Will did himself, those views being that it was an excellent idea, best done with a blade. He missed the Messer.

He rose and took two soundless steps across the deck, spanner at the ready, and an electric light flicked on above them. Its dim yellow was startling against the darkness, and it caught Will like a butterfly on a board.

Anton spun round, reaching for his gun. Will swung, cracking him across the arm, but missed the elbow joint and he didn’t drop the revolver. Will grabbed his wrist before he could shoot, abandoning the spanner to grapple with him, and they wrestled in savage silence for a few seconds. A shot rang out from the front of the boat. Will hoped that was Kim’s gun, and feared it wasn’t.

Anton made a ferocious throaty noise, bearing down hard on Will’s arm, and stamped hard on his foot. It sodding hurt but Will didn’t dare let go: if the bastard got any distance, he could use the gun as a club, or just fire it.

The enemy was bigger, stronger, and armed, but he was also seasick, and Will didn’t like him, and he’d been six inches from killing Kim. Will launched himself into a headbutt, cracking his forehead into Anton’s nose, as more gunshots echoed from the front of the boat. Anton reeled back and Will jabbed two fingers in his eyes, fighting as dirty as he ever had, winning a scream of rage and pain. Will used the second that bought him to stoop and grab the spanner from the deck, and brought it round in a wide arc to connect with the enemy’s head.