In a body they stampeded for the door. Andree and Julie had already gone upstairs. They could hear them thumping on a door.
Fan, her hands covered in blood, ran up the stairs, with the others behind her. They brushed the two girls away from the door and threw themselves forward. The door creaked and bulged, but held.
Grantham backed against the wall, terrified. He rushed to the window and threw it up. Far below him he could see cars passing and people moving about in the streets. He leant far out of the window and began to yell at the top of his voice.
Faces turned towards him. People stopped and pointed. Cars came to a standstill, and people got out to look at him. He saw a policeman move towards the house with a slow measured tread. Behind him he heard the door creak, and he yelled again, his voice going off pitch with terror.
Then with a crash the door flew open, and he spun round, his back to the window.
Fan stood there, her hair wild and her eyes savage. He saw the bloodstained knife gripped in her hand and he turned back to the window. He heard his own voice screaming in panic as he tried to climb out.
They all came across the room in a wave. Hands seized him and dragged him back. He went down under them with a thin wail of terror.
11
September 8th, 5.30 p.m.
RAVEN glanced at the clock and stood up. It was time he got back to his hotel. He nodded to Maltz. “It’s goin’ all right,” he said. “We’ll have to open some more houses. The girls are comin’ in now faster than we can handle them.”