Angels in the Gloom_ A Novel - Anne Perry [128]
Then Hannassey shot forward and dived for the steps hanging loose-ended from the mangled deck and hauled himself up, swung his body over, and went on.
Matthew ran at it and jumped, catching the third rung, and flailed wildly for a moment or two before his feet found the bottom one and he swarmed up it after Hannassey.
He reached the deck and blessed air just in time to see Hannassey running into a pall of smoke under the blackened gun turret. The bow of the German ship was only yards below them. It had heaved away but now it was coming back. Deliberately for Hannassey? He could make it. He had only to leap. He turned for an instant, jubilation in his face, that wide smile, showing his teeth.
Matthew hurled himself forward and caught Hannassey at the knees, overbalancing him. Hannassey fought, kicking, gouging, tearing at Matthew’s face, his hair, anything he could reach.
But this was the Peacemaker, the man who would have sold England in the greatest betrayal of its history! But for Matthew, overpowering it like a drowning wave, was the fact that he was the man who had murdered John and Alys Reavley, simply because John Reavley had stumbled onto his plan. Matthew thought only of their bloodied bodies in the car, and his grip was unbreakable unless Hannassey could have crushed the bones of his hands.
They were near the rail. The German ship was only fifteen yards away, less, and closing. Even through the smoke he could see the vast darkness of it.
He pulled away with all his strength, then lunged forward, catching Hannassey on the jaw with his head. Hannassey gasped and let go for an instant. It was enough. Matthew scrambled to his feet. He made the decision without thinking. He bent and grasped Hannassey and heaved him over the side.
Matthew heard him scream as he went down and in the light of the fires saw him flailing in the water for long, desperate, terrible seconds until the steel bow of the German ship crushed him like a fly against the hull of the Cormorant.
Matthew clung to the rail, nausea sweeping over him, the deck lurching beneath his feet till he fell to his knees, still clinging on. He had killed Hannassey, with his own hands he had thrown him to a hideous death. He would remember that thin scream above the guns’ roar. The falling figure, arms wide, was seared onto his brain, and then the crunch of flesh and bones lost in the din of the sea, the flame, and the ear-splitting explosion of the rear gun turret. Then everything vanished in smoke and darkness, his lungs bursting, the deck heaving violently beneath him. He would die with the ship and all the men in it, but the Peacemaker was gone, dead forever.
CHAPTER
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FOURTEEN
Joseph had been to see Gwen Neave again and was walking back on the road homeward, Henry at his heels. He was no longer even aware of the slight ache in his leg. He had been over seven weeks away from his regiment, and he was actually in better health now than many of the men who were still there. The thing that kept him at home in the warmth of the sun and the quiet peace of the fields was his fear for Shanley Corcoran.
His feet crushed the stems of the grass and he could smell the sweetness of it in the air. The larks were singing above, high up beyond sight, less than a black dot against the blue.
Why had Corcoran not told Perth yet? Lack of proof? Or did he still need the man, assuming it was Ben Morven? It was a dangerous game to play. No wonder his voice had sounded strained on the telephone. There was so much to win, or lose.
Archie had just gone back to sea, and Matthew had telephoned to say that he too would be away for perhaps a week or more.
Then it struck him like a physical blow. The prototype was finished and on trial at sea. That was why Matthew was gone.
And here was Joseph walking through the grass with