The entire incident lasted perhaps seven seconds. It left Hopkins' head spinning.
Hopkins had apparently said the wrong thing, which was easy enough for him, but West suddenly wheeled around and had him pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat. In the background Hopkins thought he had heard Gregson call for Lestrade, but he was too concerned with the knives-one at his throat and one at his stomach-to pay much attention to what was going on beyond him and West.
He did hear Lestrade call the older Inspector's name. "West." This was accompanied by a click that sounded like Lestrade's revolver, but Hopkins didn't dare look to be sure.
West did not release Hopkins, but he waited.
"I know what you're thinking," Lestrade said calmly, "and you're wrong. Hopkins says the wrong thing sometimes. He did not mean what you think he meant."
West frowned. "You sure about that?" He asked, his voice hard. Hopkins was sure he was dead.
"Would I say it if I were not?" Lestrade asked a question of his own. The two men studied each other intently for what seemed an eternity.
West let Hopkins go. The lad drew in a grateful breath and could not stop his hand from going to his throat as if to reassure himself that it was still whole and unmarked. Then he actually noticed the scene before him.
Jones and Bradstreet had both gone completly white and frozen in their tracks. Gregson too had paled, but had moved to stand beside Lestrade as if steeling himself to do something vastly unpleasant.
Lestrade had still had his revolver leveled at West. The two men were still watching each other, waiting.
Lestrade finally approached the older man. "Let me make myself clear, West." He said quietly. "If you so much as touch one of my people again, I will shoot you without a second's hesitation." He was silent for perhaps a second before adding, "If that's going to be a problem, I'll shoot you now."
"No problem." West did not seem particularly alarmed by the turn of events, nor did he seem remorseful of the fact that he had nearly just slit Hopkins' throat. "Your boys, your responsibility." He warned.
"Of course." Lestrade agreed, as if it were obvious. He pocketed his revolver, and West slid his knives back up his sleeves.
Hopkins wondered just what sort of person they had gotten themselves tangled up with. Lestrade brushed up against Hopkins as the group started moving again. "Keep your mouth shut, Hopkins." Lestrade murmured softly. Hopkins swallowed nervously and did not point out that the warning was by this time unnecessary.
