As the man stared at the ivory snake on its handle, Lana said, "He saved me from the cops. That's how we met." She opened her purse.
"I was about to have supper at Bestburgers, and . . ." Then she pulled out an automatic and aimed it---right at Blitzer Hogan's stomach.
"Drop it, Blitzer," she said.
"What the . . . !" he said with shock on his face.
"NOW!" Lana yelled.
The Walther fell from his hand. Willie leaped for the M-16. Lana turned and fired. He grabbed his side and fell. She swung her pistol toward Blitzer again. "Don't move! FBI! You're under arrest! You're all under arrest!"
Getz and Leonard, at the card table, looked at Lana with disbelief. She waved her pistol at them. "Don't even think about moving!"
Blitzer made a try for her. Blake drove a knee into the man's belly, then dropped to a crouch and grabbed the Walther.
Lana's small weapon swept toward him.
"Don't shoot!" he snapped. "Douglas, San Francisco Police!"
Her eyes went wide. She said, "Holy smoke."
At least we took four of them out of the picture," Blake said later over a cup of coffee at the station.
Lana shook her head. "I thought I was getting the Cobra, or I would never have blown my cover."
"Sorry," Blake said.
"Oh, it's not your fault. There's never been any good communication between our agency and the local police." She shrugged. "Anyway, I guess I'm glad to be out of it." She looked at him with her clear blue eyes. "And I'm awfully glad you weren't the Cobra. I liked you. Right away, I liked you. It made me sick to think you were a killer."
Blake felt the warmth of a blush spread over his face. "Hey," he said. "You never did get to eat supper. Hungry?"
"You bet."
"How about Bestburgers?" he asked.
"I can't stand their food," Lana said, grinning. "I only ate there because my field contact works the counter."
"Well, you name the place, then," he said. "It's the company that's most important, anyway," he said, smiling.