He staggered. Will hit him again, and felt bone crack. He dropped to the expensive teak planks, grabbed the enemy’s ankles, and hoisted. The back of his thighs hit the side of the boat. Will heaved again, putting his back onto it, and this time the weight tipped. There was a cry, a splash, and no more Anton.

Two down, one to go.

Another shot from the front. Will dived into the shadows and squirmed forward on his elbows to the side of the steering cabin, wishing he’d got the bugger’s gun before he went over.

“Anton!” Knowle bellowed. His voice sounded reedy in the great empty space of the sea, competing with the chugging engine, whipped away by the wind. “Anton!”

“I think Will got him,” Kim remarked. “As he has already got Chingford. You’re on your own, Knowle. You’ve lost.”

“I haven’t lost,” Knowle said. “You’ll take me to the Continent or I’ll destroy you. You know I will.”

“You don’t listen, do you? I don’t care about what is laughably called my reputation. You tell the world I share my bed with Will Darling, and all I’ll get is a swelled head at the envy of my like-minded friends. Consequences don’t apply to people like me.” Kim’s voice was cold, sneering, and extremely upper-class. “That’s how Waring could get away what he did, and why you were never going to replace him, however clever you may be. You aren’t part of the club, Knowle. You’ve always been outside, looking in, with your nose against the window like a Victorian urchin outside a sweetshop, because that’s a world you will never quite belong to. In the Symposium, but as a lackey, not a member. In Zodiac, but never one of the special ones, not like Cheveley, although you had twice the knowledge and three times the brains. You might make yourself useful, but never valued. You aren’t valuable.”

If he wanted Knowle to shoot him, he was going the right way about it. Will edged forward to the side of the wooden cabin, far enough to see round it, and understood.

Three of them, facing off. Kim had a revolver pointed at Knowle. Knowle had his arm round Lord Flitby’s neck, and a revolver pressed to his head.

“You want me to lose my temper.” Knowle sounded remarkably calm. Hopefully the bastard could maintain his self control a bit longer, at least till Will had a chance to kill him. “You underestimate me, of course: I’ve tolerated the oafs and fools of the Club for years, with their endless petty whining and demands. But I have the upper hand now.” He ground the gun into Lord Flitby’s temple. “And all the leverage I need.”

“I see you haven’t grasped the Secretan family relations yet,” Kim said.