Ginny and I were there, and Ginny would feed it.
I had too much on my mind to bother with it, and I gave it a little nudge with my foot, but it
didn’t take the hint. When I began to dodge from shrub to shrub, working my way to the
dumb-waiter, it followed me.
I squeezed myself into the box. It was a tight fit, and I wondered if the rope would be
strong enough to take my weight.
The cat jumped on to my lap, and rubbed its face against mine. I was about to push it off
when an idea struck me. It might be useful in the apartment to create a diversion, and I
decided to take it up with me.
I caught hold of the rope and began to haul. The box moved creakily upward. In spite of the
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system of pulleys I had a lot of weight on my arms, and my progress was slow.
I was panting by the time I reached the third floor, and I stopped to get some breath back.
The cat kept bumping its face into mine. It didn’t seem at all perturbed that we were hanging
in space. After a minute or so I began to haul again. Inch by inch the box crawled upwards
until finally it came to the wooden trap leading to my kitchen. I jammed on the brake and
thankfully let go of the rope.
I sat with my legs dangling while I massaged my aching arms. As soon as my heart had
stopped jumping like a freshly landed fish, I turned my attention to the trap. I pressed gently,
and it swung open, I looked into an empty kitchen. The cat jumped from my lap on to the
floor and started twining itself around the table leg looking up at me hopefully.
I took off my shoes, then slid soundlessly to the floor, crept over to the door and opened it
half an inch. For some seconds I heard nothing. Then I heard Benno humming to himself.
He was in the front room.
I closed the door again, then I picked up the cat and holding it under my arm, I opened the
china cupboard and took out a couple of plates. I pitched them into the air. The crash they
made when they hit on the floor was enough to raise the dead.
Still holding the cat I stepped back and flattened myself against the wall by the door. I
waited. Nothing happened. All I could hear was my quick, light breathing and the faint
purring of the cat.
Minutes ticked by, and I began to wonder if Benno was Coming. Then suddenly I noticed
the door was opening.
I bent down and gently put the cat on the floor. I gave it a little shove sending it away from
me. Then I straightened up, every muscle in my body tense.
The door continued to open inch by inch. The cat stood still, staring at the door. Suddenly it
growled, and its tail bushed out.
The door swung wide open.
“Goddamn it!” I heard Benno mutter. “A cat!”
I held my breath, praying he would come in, but he didn’t. He remained just outside the
door. I could hear his breath whistling down his nose.
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The cat backed away.
“How did you get in here?” Benno demanded. “Here, come here.”
But the cat didn’t seem to like the look of him. It spat at him, continuing to back away.
Benno wandered into the kitchen. He had a gun in his right hand. He came in slowly,
snapping his fingers at the cat.
“Here, pooch, come here,” he said.
He was within three feet of me before some instinct warned him of his danger. He swung
around as I struck at him. That quick, unexpected movement spoilt my aim, and instead of
landing on his jaw, my fist caught the top of his shoulder. The force of the punch sent him
flying. He crashed against the wall, made a frantic effort to regain his balance, and at the
same time aim his gun at me.
I flung myself at him, my right hand clamping down on his gun hand. I crushed his fingers
against the gun butt and pinned him against the wall.
His fat, vicious face was only inches away from mine. He tried to grab my throat, but I
slammed over a punch that caught him on the side of his head, stunning him.
I tore the gun out of his hand and threw it away, then my fingers sank into the fat flesh of
his neck, my thumbs digging into his windpipe. As I exerted pressure, his face turned blue
and his eyes started out of his head. I held him against the wall and throttled him.
Only the whites of his eyes were showing when I stepped away from him and let him slide
limply to the floor. My hands ached, and my heart thumped as I bent over him. I put a finger
on his eye: it didn’t flicker. I touched the artery in his neck: no pulse answered me.
I straightened up, flexing my aching fingers and then with an unsteady hand I lit a cigarette.
Reisner, Della, Ricca and now Benno, I thought, I could feel no pity for any of them. If I
hadn’t killed them, they would have killed me.
The cat came over and sniffed delicately at Benno’s dead face. It put out a paw and patted
his nose. I took two or three hurried drags at the cigarette, then dropped it and put my heel in
it. Time was running out. There was still much to do.
I put on my shoes, shoved Benno’s gun in my hip pocket and went along the passage into
the sitting-room.
Ginny lay in the armchair. Her hands were tied behind her, and she was still gagged. Her
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head lolled forward and she seemed to be in a faint.
I ran to her, slashed through the cord that bound her wrists and gently eased the gag out of
her mouth.
“Ginny, darling!”
She moaned softly.
“Ginny, it’s me. Come on, darling, we’ve got to get out of here!”
Her head dropped back and her eyelids lifted. Recognition slowly came into her eyes and
she touched my face.
“Where have you been, Johnny?” she said huskily. “I waited and waited. I moved in here,
hoping you’d come back. It’s been so long.”
“I’ll tell you about it later. Come on, kid, we’ve got to get out of here. We’ve got to get out
of town. I have a car outside.”
“Where are we going?” She sat up, her land going to her torn dress.
“We can decide that as we go. We’ve got to hurry.”
She shivered.
“Where is that awful little man? Who is he?”
I pulled her to her feet. Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if I hadn’t supported
her.
“Don’t worry about anything. I’ve taken care of him. Let’s get out of here.”
“No!” She tried to push away from me, but I held her. “I’m not going with you until I know
what all this means. Why do we have to leave? Send for the police, Johnny. Get the police
here. Why should we run away?”
“You don’t understand, Ginny,” I said, trying to control my impatience. Every second we
wasted now made our getaway more difficult. “We can’t go to the police. The police captain
is in this too. We must get out of here!”
Sudden fear jumped into her eyes.
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“What is all this talk of money about?” she asked breathlessly. “What money, Johnny?”
I knew at once it would be fatal to tell her about the money. Later, perhaps, but certainly
not now. She might not understand that it was mine by right: she might even think I had
stolen it.
“He’s mistaking me for someone else,” I said. “Now come on, Ginny. I’ll tell you about it
in the car.”
“He kept asking me about the money,” Ginny said wildly. “He said you had stolen it from
the casino.”
“He’s lying. Now, come on, darling. He may be back any moment. He’s dangerous. We
must get out of here!”
“Johnny, did you steal it?”
“Of course I didn’t.”
“Word of honour?”
“Yes, word of honour. It’s all a mistake. Come on, Ginny, let’s go”
“You’ll have to help me. I can’t walk far.”