He had come to the bridge and stood there, as if debating what to do next. Another roll of thunder reached him and the flashes of lightning were brighter and more often. Taking off his coat and slinging it over his shoulder, he turned and walked back in the direction of the Yard.

He never knew where Billy came from. There was more thunder, a hiss of warning from Hamish, and suddenly the boy was there, arm round Rutledge’s neck, jerking his head back. Rutledge fought then, with every skill at his command. The boy was strong and driven by obsession. Rutledge had his hands full. And where, he wondered in a corner of his mind, was Mickelson with a half dozen constables?

“ ’Ware!” Hamish yelled.

The knife flashed, and Rutledge caught the arm wielding it, twisted, and brought his weight down on it.

The boy screamed, letting Rutledge go, and then kicked out viciously with all his strength, grazing Rutledge’s kneecap as he leapt back.

There was more thunder, and Rutledge could hear the German guns.

His attention on the boy, looking for an opening to bring him down once and for all, Rutledge felt arms flung around his shoulders, hauling him back. He thought it was one of his own people and relaxed his guard.

Billy hit him then with locked fists, across the face.

Behind Rutledge, someone said, “Will. For God’s sake—”

“No, I’ll kill him. And you as well.” His face was green in the lightning.

“Listen to me, Will. I’ll help you, I swear to God I will.”

“I don’t want your help.”

Billy lunged with the knife, straight at Rutledge’s exposed chest, but the man behind him shoved Rutledge to one side with such force that both went down, and the knife plunged into the man’s left side.

Rebounding, Rutledge was already on his feet, and before Billy could react to what he’d done, he had the boy in a grip that brought him to his knees. Billy yelped in pain. The man lying on the pavement looked up and cried, “Don’t hurt him.”

Rutledge said through clenched teeth, “I’d like to throttle him.”

But he was referring to Mickelson, for the sound of boots pounding belatedly in his direction was none too soon.

The first constable to reach the three men held a torch in the face of the fallen man, and Rutledge nearly lost his grip on Billy as he recognized Charlie Hood.

“Are you all right, sir? That was a very foolhardy thing to do,” the constable chided him, bending over Hood. “And very brave, I must say.” He was shoving something against the heavily bleeding wound as two more men came up and took Billy roughly from Rutledge’s hold.