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Cool as ice, the redheaded detective tipped up the barrel to place the coup de grâce between Frost’s eyes. Before he could fire, another of the attackers’ sharpened chains whistled through the air like a bullwhip and slashed the Mauser out of his hand.
Isaac Bell jinked to the left and fired over Archie’s shoulder. He was sure he had hit Frost again. But the angry red-faced giant triggered his own weapon point-blank at Archie Abbott. The Webley boomed like a cannon.
Archie staggered as the hollow-point bored a tunnel through his chest. His legs crumpled under him. Frost jammed his revolver in his pocket and switched the knife to his right hand, burning eyes locking on Josephine as he brushed past Archie.
Archie hurled a mighty left hook as he fell.
Bell knew that with his body shattered, the punch was born of all that Archie had left – his courage and his skill. It caught Frost square on the side of his jaw with such force that bone cracked. Frost’s eyes widened with shock. His fist convulsed open. The knife dropped.
Bell was almost on him. He couldn’t shoot. Josephine was in his way.
Frost whirled and ran.
Bell started to chase after him. But as he leaped across his fallen friend’s body he saw bright red blood frothing from Archie’s coat. Without hesitating, he dropped to the ground beside him.
“Doctors!” he shouted. “Get doctors!”
Bell opened Archie’s coat and shirt and pulled a razor-sharp throwing knife from his own boot to cut away Archie’s undershirt. Air was bubbling from the wound. Bell looked around. People were gaping. But one set of eyes was cool and ready to help.
“Josephine!”
He handed her the knife.
“Quick. Cut me a patch of wing fabric. Like this.”
He indicated the size with his hands.
“Doctors!” Bell shouted to those watching. “Get moving, you men! Find doctors!”
Josephine was back in seconds with a neatly cut square of yellow fabric.
Isaac Bell pressed it over the wound and held three sides of the square down tight to Archie’s skin. As Archie’s chest rose and fell, Bell let air escape from the wound but allowed no more air to be sucked in.
“Josephine!”
“I’m here.”
“I need cloth to tie this down.”
Without hesitation, she removed her heavy flying tunic and then her blouse, which she sliced into long strips.
“Help me slip it under him.”
Bell rolled Archie onto the side of the wound while Josephine worked the cloth under him. Bell tied the ends.
“Grab those shrouds to keep him warm. Doctors!”
A doctor ran up at last. He banged his bag down, knelt beside Archie, and felt for a pulse. “Good job,” he said of the patch. “Are you a physician?”
“I’ve seen it done,” Bell answered tersely. On his own chest, he could have added, when he was twenty-two years old, by Joseph Van Dorn, calmly trying to save his apprentice’s life while tears were soaking his whiskers.
“What put the hole in him?” asked the doctor.
“Hollow-point.455.”
The doctor looked at Bell. “Is he a friend?”
“He is my best friend.”
