No answer.
"You hear me? Now! Do you want me to smash the bitch's face?"
Wolfie's terrified voice stuttered out from a few yards away. "He k-keeps a hammer in his p-pocket. He h-hit m-my m-mum with it."
The warning came too late. Nancy saw only a blur of movement as the hammer, already in his hand, came scything from behind his back in an upward curve toward her jaw.
The despairing high-pitched "No-o-o" stopped almost as soon as it began, giving the men at the front no time to register where it came from. "Which way?" Monroe demanded.
Barker switched on his torch. "The side nearest the Copse," he said. "It sounded like a kid."
"The terrace," said James. "It's his killing ground."
Mark made straight for the Discovery. "Let's see him outrun this bastard," he said, firing the engine and roaring backward.
Nancy could only turn away and raise her right arm to take the impact. The force of the blow caught her below the elbow, sending pain shooting to the top of her skull. She staggered backward against the sundial, losing her footing as the plinth unbalanced her. She twisted sideways to avoid being spread-eagled across the dial, and the torch slid from her numbed fingers, dropping to the flagstones and skittering away from her. As she hit the ground with a jarring thump and rolled frantically to avoid another hammer blow, she caught sight of the child's white-blond hair, lit up like a homing beacon against the black backdrop of the parkland. Ah, shit! What cruel fate had pointed the torch in that direction?
She scrabbled behind the sundial, and heaved herself into a crouch. Keep his attention… keep him talking… "Do you know who I am?" she asked, as Fox dropped into a similar crouch, transferring the hammer to his right hand.
"Lizzie's little bastard."
With her left hand, she felt around the plinth for the razor. "Think again. Fox. I'm your worst nightmare. A woman who fights back." Her straining fingers found the bone handle and folded it into her palm. "Let's see how you do against a soldier."
He brought the hammer around in a pile-driving smash, but it was a predictable move and she was ready for it. She flicked the razor up and slashed at his forearm as she thrust to her right to keep the sundial between herself and him. "That was for my grandmother, fucker." He gave a grunt of pain and shook the hood off his face as if it were stifling him. In the backwash of the torchlight, she saw that his face was glistening with sweat. "You're not used to this, are you? Is that why you pick on kids and old ladies?" He took another wild swipe, and this time she sliced at his wrist. "That was for Wolfie's mum. What did you do to her? Why's he so scared?"
He dropped the hammer and clutched at his wrist, and from the front of the house they heard the Discovery's engine roar to life. She saw a momentary indecision in his pale eyes before he went berserk, charging her down like a maddened bull. She reacted instinctively, flinging the razor away, and curling into a tight ball to present the smallest possible target. It was brief and violent-an orgy of kicking-with Nancy the writhing, squirming punchbag as Fox's boots hit their target every time.
He spoke in breathy grunts. "Ask who I am next time… think I cared about your grandmother?… The bitch owed me…"
She would have surrendered if her Discovery's headlights hadn't split the night and sent Fox running for cover.
She lay on her back on the ground, staring at the wispy moonlight, thinking that every bone in her body was broken. Little fingers felt her face. "Are you dead?" asked Wolfie, kneeling beside her.
"Absolutely not." She smiled up at him, seeing him clearly in the Discovery's headlamps. "You're a brave kid, Wolfie. How's it going with you, friend?"
"Not so good," he said, his mouth wobbling. "I ain't dead, but I reckon my mom is 'n' I dunno what to do. What's gonna happen to me?"
They heard a car door slam and running feet. Mark loomed over them in the Discovery headlamps. "Oh, shit! Are you all right?"
"Fine. Just having a little lie-down." Nancy flexed her left hand and put it gingerly around Wolfie's waist. "It's the cavalry," she told him. "They're always the last to arrive. No," she said firmly as Mark reached down to lift the child away from her. "Leave us be for the moment." She listened to more feet pounding down the terrace. "I mean it, Mark. Do not interfere, and don't let anyone else interfere until I'm ready."
"You're bleeding."
"Not my blood, I'm just winded." She stared up into his anxious eyes. "I need to talk to Wolfie in private. Please," she said. "I walked away when you asked. Do the same for me."
He nodded immediately and strode up to meet the policemen, waving his arms to slow them down. Inside the house the lights came on as James moved from room to room.
Nancy drew Wolfie closer, feeling his bones through his inadequate clothing. She had absolutely no idea what to say to him. She didn't know if Fox was his father or stepfather, if his mother was dead or if he just thought she was dead, where he came from, if he had relatives. Indeed, she had no better idea than he what would happen to him, although she guessed he would be taken into care and processed through the foster system while his circumstances were investigated. She didn't think it would help to tell him that, however. What comfort was there for anyone in abstract ideas?
"I'll tell you how it works in the army," she said. "Everyone looks after everyone else. We call it watching each other's backs. Do you know that expression?"
Wolfie nodded.
"Right, well, when someone watches your back so well that they save your life, then it becomes a debt, and you have to do the same for them. Do you understand?"
"Like the black geezer in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves?"
She smiled. "That's it. You're Robin Hood, and I'm the black geezer. You saved my life, so now I have to save yours."
He shook his head anxiously. "But that ain't what I'm scared of. I don't reckon the cops're gonna kill me. I just reckon they're gonna be real angry about my mum and Cub… 'n' everything." He took a shuddering breath. "'N' they'll send me to strangers… 'n' I'll be all alone."
She squeezed his waist. "I know. It's pretty frightening. I'd be afraid, too. So why don't I pay off my debt by making sure the police don't do anything until you tell me you feel safe? Does that count as saving your life?"
The child thought about it. "I guess. How you gonna do it?"
"First I'm going to wriggle a bit to find out if everything's still working-" her legs seemed to be, but her right arm was numb from the elbow down-"then you're going to grab this hand-" she squeezed his waist again-"and keep holding it till you reckon it's okay to let go. How does that sound?"
Like all children, he was logical. "What happens if I never let go?"
"We'll have to get married," she said with a small laugh, wincing as pain ripped up her side. The bastard had broken a rib.
Ivo was trying to persuade the others to leave. "Wise up," he said. "None of us knows what's been going on, but you can bet your lives the cops won't believe that. If we're lucky, we'll spend twenty-four hours at the flaming nick while they hit us with every unsolved crime in Dorset… if we're not, they'll take our kids off us and bang us up for being accessories to whatever Fox has done. We should take off now. Leave the bastard to face the firing squad alone."
"What do you think?" Zadie asked Bella.
The big woman twisted a roll-up between her stubby fingers and licked the paper. "I think we should stay put and follow Mr. Barker's instructions."