Part 4 (2/2)

”Not this one.”

Escott was taking a h.e.l.l of a risk apprising me of the situation in this manner.

She could get the idea to shoot him first and then wait for me to come along later. If my scalp had been intact, the skin would be crawling.

Their conversation died, but had lasted long enough for me to get an idea of their relative positions. She was seated with her back to the wall next to the open window, about seven feet from Escott, close enough not to miss. .h.i.tting him, but not so close that he could try taking the gun from her. There were also a few seconds of critical time in her favor, since he was seated so firmly behind the desk. As far as I could tell from a swirling sweep of the office, they were alone.

The problem wasn't too complicated. I could appear and grab the gun away before she knew what hit her. It was something I'd managed before, but a dark alley was a different situation from a well-lit office. She would wonder where I'd come from and how I'd gotten so close without being seen. If the cops got involved there might be more complications, and I could not risk coming to official attention.

”Where is he?” The ground-gla.s.s quality was back in her voice.

”Please be patient. It won't be long.”

”It's been too G.o.dd.a.m.ned long as it is. Call and see if he's left.”

”As you wish.”

I heard dialing sounds. Her attention would be fully focused on Escott. I got into place in front of the window. She was right-handed and that would be the one to grab. I readied my own hands-or what would become my hands-over hers.

Just as Escott said h.e.l.lo I re-formed and twisted the gun from her grip. The hammer had been c.o.c.ked back and the safety off. Hardly any pressure was needed to finger the trigger; my attempt to disarm her was more than enough. The thing suddenly jumped and coughed, and a neat hole appeared in the far wall. I yanked the smoking rod free and let it drop. It decided not to go off again.

She jumped up and both my hands were full, one cutting off her surprised and angry shriek and the other pinning her arms. Escott hung up the phone, came stiffly around the desk, dodged her kicks, and grabbed her ankles. We shoved her back down in the chair by weight alone, needing every pound because she squirmed and bucked like a hooked pike.

”I must confess that you are a most welcome sight,” he told me, still struggling with her legs.

”Anytime. Now what do we do with her?”

”The police, I suppose. They still want her for that robbery.”

”Can you leave me out of it? I'm in no shape for a court appearance.”

”Yes, as you wish. But without you for a witness, this incident could end up as my word against hers, that is, if I press charges.”

”With her record do you need to?”

”Let's put it this way: after what I've been through today, I would very much like to. Hang on a bit. I've some cuffs in the desk.”

He released her ankles and dodged another kick as he picked up the dropped automatic. He took it off c.o.c.k, removed the magazine, emptied the firing chamber of its bullet, and put it away in his desk. From the same drawer, he drew out and opened a set of cuffs.

I put pressure on her shoulders to keep her in place and nimbly kept my fingers away from her teeth. Escott clicked the cuffs over her wrists, then produced a washcloth and a long strip of bandage from the tiny bathroom in back. Between us we shoved the cloth in her mouth and tied it firmly in place so that her outraged screams wouldn't bring well-intentioned, but misinformed help. Some of the fight went out of her by then, but I wasn't going to relax my hold.

Escott was puffing. ”This is certainly no way to treat a lady.”

”I could debate that,” I replied, sucking a finger. She'd managed to lock her teeth on it for a few seconds while we were gagging her.

Selma Jenks, alias Miss Green, glared hard and hatefully at each of us, and I hoped the daggers she was throwing remained wishful ones. Today she wore a now- rumpled blue dress; the remains of a matching hat were on the floor. The skirt part had hiked up in the struggle, revealing a nice stretch of leg and the gartered tops of her blue stockings. I made a move to pull the skirt down, but she threatened to start up again, so I left things alone.Escott excused himself and went back to the bathroom for his belated gla.s.s of water and other things. He returned, his tie loosened a little, and painfully eased his cramped limbs.

*'She walked in at two o'clock and kept me sitting there all b.l.o.o.d.y afternoon. Five hours in one spot is certainly brutal on the lower spine.”

”You sat there for five hours?”

He shrugged. ”It was that or get shot. She was quite upset on how we'd crossed her last night and even more upset that we survived. She looked my name up in the phone directory and came a-hunting. It is my admittedly inexpert opinion that she is more than a little loony.”

”Loony?”

”That's the word.” He sighed deeply and drew a handkerchief over his face. ”She kept me calling your hotel to get you over here, I did what I could to warn you.”

”It worked.”

”Thank heaven. Spending the day a bare two yards from a nerved-up woman holding a hair trigger is not my idea of entertainment.”

”It isn't?”

He shot me a considering look and let it pa.s.s. ”Well, I suppose it's time to call the police.”

”What about her partner, Sled?”

”From the little she dropped in conversation, I got the impression he doesn't know about this, nor, I think, would he approve.”

”That's something. So maybe he's not down the street waiting for her.”

”Quite likely. He'd have been up here ages ago to find out what was taking so long.”

”All the same, could you go out the back way and take a look around just to be sure? He might guess where she is, and if he's down there any cop car will spook him off. You could spot him better than I, you know the street.”

”Well, just to be safe... I'll be back shortly.” He went to the back and I heard the sounds of his exit. He'd equipped the bathroom with a hidden panel that opened onto the upstairs storeroom of a tobacco shop that faced the next street over. He used it now to make a discreet exit outside without exposing himself to anyone watching his regular doorway.

As soon as he was gone, Selma launched from her chair for the door, slipping from my grip like a greased eel. Catching her was no problem, but she was stubborn and full of fight, and in the end I had to lift her bodily and swing her down on the floor with a thud. She was small and that helped, but it was a h.e.l.l of a lively wrestling match. I threw one leg over her knees, pinning them flat, used one hand to keep her nails out of my eyes, and the other clamped across her forehead. By a little twisting, we were intimately face-to-face. Her eyes were wild, the whites showing all around, but not from fear; her skin under the powder was flushed beet red from sheer fury.

She abruptly stopped fighting, her breath loud and labored through her nose, and stared at me with pure loathing, waiting for my next move. She knew nothing about me, Escott was gone, along with any protection his presence offered. I was someone unknown to her and taking advantage of the opportunity while it was available. No doubt from certain points of view I would be guilty of a kind of rape, but for me it would make things a lot easier.

My eyes on hers, I said her name.

Escott returned from a clear street in ten minutes and found us as before in the office. I still held her shoulders, but she had calmed down considerably.

”May as well call the cops,” I said as soon as he came in. He dialed the number and asked for someone by name. He explained the situation and was told to expect a car to come right away.

”All the business at the station will take a bit.” he said after hanging up. ”I suppose a late supper will have to do for me.”

I nodded in sympathy. ”I'll wait till the cops are at the door and go out the back.

You can handle this wildcat for that long.”

”She's not so wild now,” he observed.

”Probably tired herself out.”

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