“We can’t go to Iona’s,” he told a snarling Woody. “We can’t risk leading them to Meade Lodge.”

Woody now wore the same murderous expression he had in the newspaper photograph. Saliva dripped from his mouth; his hackles were stiff. Nat glanced wildly around. The Diamond Lil was blocked in by three other boats in the marina. It would take him ages to steer it out. Davis and his cronies were still a way up on the cliffs. It would take time for them to climb down to the beach. “C’mon!” Nat shouted to Woody. “We’ll have to make a run for it!”

Woody jumped up first, with Nat following. He led Nat away from Teddy Davis. A faint shout went up: Davis had spotted them. Woody still led the way, racing for a rocky inlet, which Nat hoped would give them a good place to hide.

Thinking and running is not an easy combination, but whether it was adrenaline or a growing feeling of outrage, Nat felt his anger take over and fear slip away. He was more than angry. He was absolutely furious. Davis was frightened to death of Woody; surely he wouldn’t want to come within biting distance? He was mental, but he wasn’t stupid. Nat stopped and waited, legs trembling slightly with anticipation. Woody came galloping back.

“We’ll face them,” Nat panted. “But don’t bite anyone, OK? Just do the eye thing, that’ll be enough.”

Near the top of the cliff, Teddy Davis gripped his BB gun tightly. He’d wanted to take Carver on his own, separate him from that stupid mongrel and frighten the little runt to death. He gestured to Spanner Harris to move farther down so they could get a better look at Carver and the dog. The plan had been to stay higher than them, to be able to get a clear shot at the mutt — just to scare it, of course. Teddy debated whether to follow and risk being attacked. But he had his gun, didn’t he? Any weirdness and he’d threaten to use it.

Fueled by adrenaline and hate, Teddy Davis followed Spanner Harris down the path after Nat Carver. Twenty minutes later, Davis and his gang of two stopped about twenty feet away from their quarry. And by then Nat’s fury had been replaced by a feeling like being kicked in the stomach.

Teddy Davis had a gun.

There was a ten-second face-off, but to all of them the seconds seemed like hours. It was Nat who broke the unbearable silence.

“So what are you going to do now, Tiger, shoot us?” said Nat, surprised his voice sounded normal.

But something weird was happening to the older boy. His eyes appeared glazed, as though he were thinking of something else. Then he grinned maniacally. He raised the BB gun up to his shoulder and took aim.