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unpleasantness.’
    Creek slammed his fist into Hoyte’s stomach, doubling him up and sending him crashing to the floor, winded and spewing blood. Gedge’s fingers gripped the edge of the table.
    The two thugs jeered at the prone barkeep and turned towards the exit, only to be confronted by one of the supposed drunkards, who was was standing tall and blocking the door. They froze. Creek stared, a look of bewilderment crossing his baby-like face. He smiled again.
    ‘Sobered up pretty quick, eh, mate? Or are you not drunk? Just bonkers. A dishevelled old bugger like you must be nuts to stand in the way of a couple of strapping lads like ourselves. We don’t take prisoners, you know.’ He wagged a mocking finger at Gedge and Seth chuckled.
    ‘You’re not leaving with Mr Hoyte’s hard-earned cash,’ said Gedge. ‘Tell Bacchus to look elsewhere for his protection money. I appreciate you’re young and know no better, so if you’ll just set the money down and be on your way, we’ll say no more about it.’
    Creek locked his gaze with Gedge. ‘Say no more about it? You are a nut-job! We’re gonna have to teach you a lesson. Eh, Seth?’
    The blade of a knife glinted in Creek’s hand. Seth reached into his coat and pulled out a cosh.
    Creek lunged at Gedge, his blade slicing through the air. Gedge stepped aside, and chopped at Creek’s elbow from below. A cracking sound, and Creek screamed in pain, as the knife clattered to the floor.
    Seth came at Gedge, flailing with his cosh. Gedge barged him aside, but he was grabbed around the legs and they both went down. Gedge was stronger, rolling on top and bouncing his opponent’s head off the floorboards. Seth came back at him. The cosh—which must have been weighted with lead—careened painfully off Gedge’s right shoulder. Gedge slipped inside the swinging arm and drove his forehead into the side of Seth’s cranium, behind the left eye. The thug’s eyes rolled upwards and he toppled unconscious to the ground.
    Gedge staggered back, breathing hard. He felt some kind of cord tightening around his neck.
    ‘Bastard!’ hissed Creek. ‘You’ve done for my mate, but now you’re the one who’s buggered!’
    Stupid, stupid! Too slow! How had he allowed one of these morons to get the drop on him? Struggling for breath, Gedge managed to lever one finger under the garrotte as Creek desperately wrenched him to and fro, trying to tighten it. He knew that Creek’s right arm must be badly damaged so the power he could apply would be limited, yet his own energy was starting to run out.
    Another finger under the cord. He flailed at Creek with his other hand, but was rewarded only with a sharp pain from his own injured shoulder.
    Another finger, and the garrotte began to loosen, easing the pressure on his neck. He could feel his opponent getting weaker. Out of the corner of his eye, Gedge made out a large pewter jug on a table. Just reaching it with his left hand, he grabbed it and swung it behind him in one movement, catching Creek a solid blow on the head and sending him gasping to the floor.
    Gedge stood up and retrieved the money bag.
    ‘I suggest you get out while the going’s good.’
    Creek struggled to his feet and followed Seth, staggering towards the exit. In the doorway, Creek turned defiantly.
    ‘I nearly had you, old man. You’d better watch yourself. I see you again…’ He drew a finger across his throat.
    ‘I always watch myself, son. On your way.’
    The chilly night air again entered the pub as the thugs left, and after permitting himself a brief smile, Gedge turned back to Frank Hoyte.
    ‘How is it?’
    Hoyte struggled to a sitting position. ‘I’ll be alright, Lucas. Wind well and truly knocked out o’ me. A few bruises and that, but I’ll be alright. Injured me pride mostly, those bastards. But blimey, you were pretty handy with the rough stuff. Learn that in the army, did you? You’re a useful bloke to have around.’
    ‘I won’t be making a