Read Online Revenge in a Cold River by Anne Perry - Free Book Online Page A

him to drown. More important to Monk, he could not send the vulnerable Hooper after the big man, who was now going under the water for a second time, his mouth open, his face distorted with terror.
    Monk took off his pea coat and leaped into the river. The water hit him like a wall of ice and, with a shock of fear, he felt it close over him momentarily, almost paralyzing him.
    He came to the surface gasping, and struck out toward the big man, now struggling desperately about seven or eight feet away from him. By the time Monk reached the spot, the man was below the surface. Monk dived down after him and managed to catch hold of his arm. He came up for air, heaving the man as much as he could, but he was heavy, a leaden weight.
    He gasped, saw Hooper a few yards away, and then the big man came to the surface behind him and the next moment he was held tight and hard in an arm grip. For an instant he thought the man was trying to strangle him, then he realized it was the panic of someone who knew he was drowning.
    “Let go!” Monk shouted at him. “Let go, you fool! And I’ll help you!”
    The man’s grip eased for a moment as he gulped for air and took in water. He choked and his arm closed like a vise around Monk’s neck. Another moment and he would take Monk down with him.
    Monk used his elbow again, then as the grip eased, he turned round and hit the man on the side of the head, as hard as he could.
    The man went limp, and at last Monk was able to get hold of him and keep his head above the water as he struggled to make his way back to the wharf steps, where he could drag him up onto the boards.
    But the man was deadweight, and he kept slipping. Monk was freezing cold and losing his strength to keep them both afloat. He was dimly aware of other voices now. He thought they came from the wharf, but he was still six or seven yards from it, and making no headway.
    Then Hooper was there, helping, holding the man up by the other arm.
    It still took them several more minutes to get the big man’s inert body to the steps and feel more hands reach forward and help to haul them up.
    Monk clambered out of the water and the cold air hit him like a blow, making him stagger before regaining his balance. Hooper came right after him, white-faced and shaking.
    Monk stared at the workman who had helped him. He looked like a docker or laborer of some sort, as did the other man beside him, giving Hooper a hand up the last step. Where on earth had they come from? And where was the smaller man Hooper had gone in to save? Surely not drowned!
    “How…?”
    The first man smiled and shook his head. “Lighterman told us,” he replied. “Good thing, too. Better get you wrapped up.” He signaled to his companion. “Bert, pass us that coat, eh?”
    Bert obliged, handing over Monk’s own pea coat, and a rough jacket for Hooper, whose coat was soaking. He had had no opportunity to take it off before he went in after the small man.
    Monk turned to look for him properly now.
    Hooper must have thought of it at the same moment, because he swiveled round and went to the top step again.
    Then they both saw him, sixty yards away and swimming toward the schooner moored at the far side. They could see quite clearly a figure on the deck, letting down a knotted rope for him to climb.
    The man reached the schooner, no doubt exhausted and half numb with cold, but alive. Had it not been slack tide with barely any current, he would have had no chance.
    Monk breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the swimmer clasp on to the rope and the man on the deck begin to haul him up. He did not wait to see the rest.
    Hooper also went back to the big man lying on the wharf, barely moving. One of the dockers, Bert, was doing what they could for him, but to little effect. His friend had disappeared.
    “There’s a doctor not far from ’ere,” Bert told Monk, explaining his workmate’s absence. “Good feller, won’t ask no money if yer in’t got it. This feller ’ere