If Bat had been on his own I’d have nailed him then, but I couldn’t see, and I didn’t want to kill the girl. I swore softly, moved out into the passage.
Bat suddenly yelled: “Gimme a gun, Mike. Quick!”
I ran towards the sound of his voice. I could just see him with the girl held in front of him, crouching against the wall at the head of the stairs.
“Come out of it, you yellow rat,” I said, caught hold of the girl’s arm.
She kicked out, screamed like a train whistle.
Bat made himself small behind her, cursed me, hung on.
“Let go of her,” I panted, dodging her kicks. One of them caught me in the stomach, winded me for a moment.
I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, turned.
The red-faced man from the next landing was rushing up, a gun in his hand. He fired wildly at me. The bullet slapped into the wall above my head. I shot him between the eyes. He went down like a pole-axed bull.
I heard a grunt from Bat, spun around. I hadn’t a chance to get out of the way. Bat had caught up the girl, held her above his head. He flung her at me as I tried to dodge. Screaming frantically, she sailed through the air like a shell. She hit me chest high. I went over, heard her wail, then crash through the rotten banisters and thud to the landing below.