And Norm spotted a second man beyond the head of the stairs.
No point in gunplay, now. Too many automatic weapons around.
The shadow still stretched across the porch.
Where were the others? What were they up to?
Miss Groloch's shakes and moans took on the violence of a seizure. Fial's efforts calmed her not at all.
The man's emotional agony was so obvious, so deep, that Cash couldn't help feeling compassion. Compassion tainted by anger. The old witch was going to get off on an insanity plea.
There would be another feint before the real move, Cash decided. Something to distract them for one critical instant.
Neighbors who had known the man better than he had described Dr. Smiley as an excellent, unorthodox chess player.
He did the unexpected now.
He walked in the front door. Unarmed. With just one bodyguard.
Cash was beyond surprise. "Good morning, Doctor. I've been waiting."
If having been beaten to his prey had disappointed Smiley, he hid it welt.
"Norman. You're more efficient than I anticipated." He was no longer the quiet, retiring, bookish neighbor. He had gained a commanding, frightening presence. His clothing, too, had changed. No longer was he the little old man in secondhand. His suit must have set him back four hundred dollars. He turned slightly. "Stefan. And little Marda. It's been an interesting chase. Let me savor the moment. There was no chance with Otho and Dunajcik."
Fial nodded slightly. "Colonel. You, too, are more efficient than anticipated." His hatred was palpable.
"Norman, we could get to butting heads here," Smiley observed. "But you should know that I'm invoking a prior claim. If you accept it we can work this out." He glanced at his watch. "Our goals are nearly the same anyway."
"Afraid not."
"Excuse me?"
"I could never want somebody so bad that I'd get a couple thousand people killed just to nail them. Like you did when you were Josef Gabiek. So I don't recognize your claim. Not here. You should have caught them over there."
Smiley's face flashed several successive reactions.
"Yeah, we know, Dr. Hodzв. You just caught us with our pants down." Cash was stalling, hoping reinforcements would arrive. That paddy wagon showing now would be like the cavalry charging over the hill. "Now I have to arrest you, too. Suspicion of arson and murder. You have the right to remain silent…"
Smiley glanced at his watch, shook his head. "You do amaze me, Norman. I never would have thought it. You seemed such an unimaginative fellow. But we're wasting time. These people are enemies of the State."
Cash caught the odd intensity of the remark. "So are you. Of my state. By the way, what did they do? I've read about some of the off-the-wall crimes you clowns nail people for over there. Conspiracy to defame the State. Jesus!"
"Who speaks for the State?" Fiala demanded suddenly, strangely calm. "Agency Colonel Neulist? The man who destroyed his State's future out of wounded vanity? The man who is poisoning its past? The man who will, without doubt, be remembered as its greatest villain? Colonel, do you know who you 're talking to? "
Smiley raised an eyebrow. Cash stared.
"He is Michael Cash's father."
Norm's heart leaped into his throat.
"Yes. I know. Does that make him a saint? I'm no simple-minded peasant…"
"Michael is still in China, Colonel. Certain key events can still be aborted."
Cash's mind was collapsing into utter chaos.
"You wouldn't."
"You destroyed my future. What use to me, then, your past?"
"That great a treason… you wouldn't dare… would you?"
Fial muttered something, apparently agreeing. Fiala glared at him. Something wild and primitive animated her. She seemed much younger, much harder. And her English, Cash noted, had improved markedly.
Fiala snapped, "You, Colonel, are the traitor. The kind Marda's grandfather called the worst. The kind who abuses position, who betrays a trust, to satisfy his ego."
"What the hell is all this?" Cash asked. "You people know something about my son?"
"Too much talk. Norman, I want these people." Smiley gestured. The movement became a slap. Fial backed away, rubbing a stinging cheek. "Or do I have to take them? Bitch." He moved again. Fiala evaded his swing. One foot tried for his groin.
"Doc, I wouldn't try anything if I was you. Too many guns around here. All we can do is cut each other up. Prize goes to the last man standing up. That wouldn't be you." He revealed his weapon. "You might say I've taken a dislike to you lately."
Believing Malone's allegations about the man's past had become easy.
A ghost of a smile teased Smiley's lips. But he was less calm than he pretended. He kept glancing at his watch. With his left thumb he kept fidgeting with his wedding band.
"All right. Your point. A draw." To Fial and Fiala, "But we still have eighty years. We'll meet again." Smiling wickedly now, he backed toward the door.
How do I stop him? Cash wondered. Hank wants him, too.
There was no way. Not without a Shootout.
Too late, Norm noticed the absence of the stairway and kitchen gunmen. Tran now lay in a heap beside the man he had subdued. Cash had missed whatever had happened there.
The helicopter chugged to life.
Cash whirled.
Smiley was gone, too.
"The sonofabitch is going to get away!"
Fial collapsed. Moaning, he clawed at a bright purple mark on his cheek.
"What the…?"
"The bastard foxed us," Malone spat as he crawled from behind the couch. "He was wearing a poison ring…"
"Norm, look out!" Beth shrieked.
Guns boomed.
Bullets parted Cash's hair as he plunged to the floor. Polish firing squad, he thought.
He saw slugs tear at Miss Groloch's clothing, saw Smiley vanish again before anyone could hit him. The old woman silently sat down beside her brother. Feebly, she reached for his hand.
Cash scrambled toward the doorway. He looked out, got back an instant before fragments of brick, wood, and metal started flying.