The click had been too loud, Cook realised. It was a click he recognised. A sound that had become a part of him. A Webley revolver being cocked, the hammer pulled back, ready to fire.
‘What’s going on here?’ a voice said, from the darkness.
74
Thin shards of moonlight illuminated the man. He wore a black trenchcoat, and the brim of his hat kept his face in shadow. Not that it mattered, of course. The gun in his hand was all the information Cook needed.
‘You’re trespassing,’ the man said. ‘Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you both.’
Reynolds stepped forward, and Cook heard the snick of his knife. Cook put his hand on Reynolds’s arm, holding him back. Hard enough to control a situation with an armed assailant. Harder when you’ve got someone else to deal with, even if he’s on your side.
‘ARP,’ Cook said. ‘Your shelter’s not up to standard.’
‘You’re with that girl at the hotel,’ the man said. Cook felt Reynolds move, and he tightened his grip on his arm. Not yet, he wanted to communicate.
Cook scanned the house in the distance. Was the man alone, or had he brought help? He’d seen a movement in the shadows.
‘I’m going to call the police,’ the man said.
‘Please do,’ Cook said. ‘You can explain who you are when they arrive.’
The man was silent.
‘You’ve got no more right to be here than we do,’ Cook said. ‘You’re a fraud. Ruby knew it. That’s why you got rid of her. You’re squatting here, playing the part of the countrygent in town for a few days. Trying your luck with the heiresses at the Empire.’
Cook took a step towards the gun. If he could get close enough, he could spring into action.
But the man stepped back.
‘You’re not ARP,’ he said.
‘What have you done with her?’ Reynolds asked.
‘Who?’
‘Ruby,’ Cook said. ‘She saw through your cover story, so you brought her back here.’
‘You’ve got her gas mask,’ Reynolds said.
‘Her gas mask?’ the man asked, like he was putting two and two together. ‘Her?’
Cook inched forwards. He could see the man was thinking, his attention drifting. He’d be thinking about the hotel bar. The young woman he’d been chatting up.
Cook readied himself for the lunge forwards. Grab the arm with the gun. Twist it away.
‘Open the shelter,’ Reynolds demanded.
The man raised the gun to Cook’s head.
‘I suppose you’re going to make me?’ he said.
‘I promise you one thing,’ Reynolds said. ‘If you’ve harmed a hair on her head, you and me are going to have words. No police needed. Just the two of us, until one of us has stopped breathing.’
The man swung the gun towards Reynolds.
Cook took his chance. He hurled himself forwards, rugby-tackling the man, shoulders around the thighs, wrapping him tight, using his weight to push him over.
The man got Cook with a lucky blow to the head, hard enough to jar Cook’s teeth. He felt blood in his mouth.
