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A good-looking young Asian man appeared from behind us as if from nowhere. He was wielding a billy club.
Kabir.
The billy club was presumably the one that’d been dropped by the Peeler I’d felled. Kabir swung it like he was planning to hit a home run, landing it on the head of the Peeler whose arms were around my neck. I didn’t see the billy-club strike, but I heard the sickening c***k and immediately felt myself free.
The other Peeler let my arm go to try to evade Kabir’s second swing. It didn’t work. He went down from a vicious blow which must’ve fractured his skull to judge by the awful sound it made. A small cheer went up from those prisoners brave enough to risk it.
Peelers were heading our way in force, Bobbies had vaulted the partition and were closing in on us. The odds were
