The meanest Flood

been particularly physical but he had dived twice before, when he was a teenager, in the public baths. The first dive had been a belly-flop and it had hurt; the second dive had been perfect, the instructor said the water parted without a sign of a splash. The present dive would be a combination of the two; there wasn’t going to be a splash this time either, and it was certainly going to hurt.
    But Danny managed to break his fall with his forearms and elbows. He slithered the rest of the way down the stairs and got to his feet. When he looked up Turner was standing at the top of the stairs with the bayonet and a face like a thunder-storm.
    In his professional career the magician had never abandoned a trick. There was always something you could do to save the day. But when he saw Sam Turner take a step towards him, the German bayonet clutched in his hand, Diamond Danny Mann decided to make a run for it.
    He got to the door and saw Alice Richardson’s Wellington boots. There was a coat that must belong to Turner hanging on the back of the door. Danny didn’t want to go into the street naked but he knew he didn’t have enough time. The boots would be too small for him and as Sam Turner’s footsteps clattered down the stairs he decided to ignore the coat also. He turned the Yale and ripped open the door.
    He tried to run around the big man and when that didn’t work he tried to run through him. Same result.
    ‘Let me get past,’ he said. ‘I’m not who you want, he’s behind me.’
    The big man grabbed his arm as he tried to wriggle around to the street.
    ‘Let me go!’ Danny yelled, pulling away with all his might. He slipped the man’s grasp for a moment and found himself free and able to run. But before he could turn his freedom to his advantage he realized that the man had him by the arm again and was swinging him round.
    He saw the big man’s fist coming at him and closed his eyes. It was as though if he didn’t see it it wouldn’t hurt so much or do so much damage.
    Wrong again.
     

43
     
    Marilyn started the car when Danny appeared on the doorstep. She manoeuvred it out of the parking space and hit the horn, wondering with one half of her mind why Danny was naked. But the rest of her consciousness was concentrated on getting him out of there. It was obvious that the big man was going to lay into him.
    Before she could get to them the big man hit Danny. Marilyn was inside the car when it happened and the engine was revving and the windows were closed but she heard the bones go. The big man howled and cradled his fist in his other arm as if he’d smashed his knuckles or some other bones in his hand. But he’d broken Danny’s jaw. Danny went over in the street, not a stitch of clothing on and his chin and jaw seemed detached, hovering over his left shoulder.
    Marilyn drove the car on to the pavement, blocking the entrance to the house and forcing the big man to jump out of the way, so the car was between him and Danny. She leaned over and opened the passenger door and yelled for Danny to get in. He struggled to his feet and fell into the seat. He was saying something but his broken jaw distorted the words so it was impossible to make sense of it.
    As she reversed back into the street another man came out of the house clutching a long and bloody bayonet in his hand. He ran for the car and tried to hang on, slashing at the windows and the paintwork with his weapon. But when Marilyn hit the accelerator he lost his grip and rolled into the gutter. She didn’t look back; as Danny fastened his safety belt she screeched around the corner and headed towards the town.
    She felt a rush of euphoria go through her body as she realized what she’d done. She’d snatched Danny from almost certain death. The first man, the huge one, wouldn’t have stopped at smashing Danny’s jaw if she hadn’t driven the car between them. And the second one, the one with the bayonet, was obviously looking for blood.
    Still driving at speed she glanced over at the magician. There was something childlike about him in his nakedness and he was going through some trauma with the injury to his jaw. He held it in position, wincing with pain, and obviously found it difficult to close his mouth. A thin trickle of drool coursed its way down his chin.
    ‘Look at you,’ she said as she went through a red light at the end of Clarence Street. She was compassionate. She didn’t know why but she was filled with warmth. ‘Look at the