I said, "When I give the word, you'll move thirty-six inches to your left, or I'll kick you right between the legs. And if you move thirty-seven inches, I'll kick you twice and pistol-whip you with your own gun. Ready? Shift"
I was aware of Jenny glaring at me, one protective arm about the kid in pajamas. To hell with her; she was only a minor worry now. While I was talking tough, with my back to Larry, I winked at Hans. He was my biggest concern. I had to get the message through to him, at least. Otherwise, thinking me an adversary, he might foul me up when the action started. They all might, but Ruyter was presumably the most experienced and dangerous. I saw his eyes widen very slightly. He hesitated. I made a threatening movement forward. He shrugged and stepped aside.
I picked up the silenced automatic, checked the loads, and in a sense there was really no further problem here. I had a reasonably quiet weapon in my hand. All I had to do was turn and fire. It was the only safe and certain way to handle a nervous man who also had a gun.
I knew it, and I knew that the coldblooded, treacherous move would take Larry completely by surprise, and I knew that Mac would approve it, or at least condone it. Anticipating some such situation, he'd as much as given me absolution in advance. The only thing I didn't know was the gun. It's only in the movies that you pick up a strange weapon belonging to someone else and shoot the pips from the ace of clubs at fifty paces. On the other hand, Ruyter was a pro, and his gun wasn't likely to be off enough to make much difference on a man-sized target at pointblank range.
I was stalling and I knew it. The ridiculous thing was, the stupid little dope trusted me. He'd punched me in the jaw, he'd kicked me in the ribs, and still he trusted me to forget personalities and behave like an All-American boy in this moment of crisis. It was crazy, it was infuriating, and still I couldn't quite bring myself to put a bullet into him like I should, either to disable or kill, as long as there was a reasonable possibility of accomplishing the same result by less drastic means.
After all, I told myself, it wasn't as if I had an old hand like Johnston to deal with. If I could just get close enough, I should be able to handle a shaky boy without damage. I let the weapon snap closed, and aimed it at Ruyter.
"Okay," I said to Larry without turning my head. "I've got this one covered, partner. I'll blow him in two if he gives me a dirty look."
I winked again. Hans responded with a microscopic nod, acknowledging my signal at last. I didn't kid myself we'd got ourselves much of a mutual-assistance pact, but at least he'd probably wait to see what help I could give, since I was offering it free. Facing him over the gun, I couldn't help remembering a dead girl in a motel bed, fifteen hundred miles back along the road, but that was personal and irrelevant. He must not be harmed, Mac had said.
"All right, Mrs. Drilling," Larry said behind me. "I want you in that chair over there."
I shifted position so I could watch and still keep Ruyter covered. It was a logical move, and it gained me a couple of feet, almost a yard, toward Larry. I saw Jenny move toward the indicated chair, hesitate, and sit down. Penny started over to join her.
"Not you, girlie," Larry said. "You come right over here, honey. Turn around. Turn your back to me. Now put your hands behind you."
He looked at us over her head: an odd, challenging, defiant look. Then, abruptly, he grabbed Penny's wrist and twisted it up between her shoulder blades. The kid cried out and went to her knees. Jenny gasped and started up from her chair, and sank back slowly, as Larry put his gun to Penny's head.
I made a sound of protest, and managed another step in the right direction. "Look, fella, you can't just-"
"You keep out of this! Just watch the man like you were told. Don't interfere!" Larry's voice was sharp. "Now, Mrs. Drilling, there is something you have that we want, and we're tired of waiting for it. We're not going to let you get out of the country with it. You're going to pick it up somewhere-somewhere here in eastern Canada-and you're going to tell me where, or you're going to hear what a dislocated shoulder sounds like happening to your own kid. We're tired of being led around by the nose, Mrs. Drilling!" Jenny licked her lips. Her face was pale under the freckles.
"We?" she breathed. "Where is your associate? Does he know what you're doing?"
Something changed in Larry's eyes. "Never mind Mister Johnston!" he said quickly. "Mister Johnston is off having an important phone conference with Washington. I'm handling this my way."
Well, it wasn't the first time a young operative had taken a wild, independent gamble in the hope of looking good in his senior's absence. I gained another couple of inches his way, but it got me a quick, suspicious look that wasn't promising.
"Come on, Mrs. Drilling!" I didn't like the sound of his voice at all. He was right on the ragged edge; he was unpredictable and dangerous; he knew he had to pull this off all the way or be crucified when Johnston got back. He said shrilly, "Tell her what it feels like, honey! Tell your mom how it hurts!" He forced the kid's arm up farther.
Penny moaned. "Mummy, it hurts!" she gasped. "Mummy, tell him! Please tell… ahhh!"
I was looking for a clear, safe shot now. I'd made a mistake passing up the chance, earlier. Larry must have sensed some kind of a threat, because he threw another glance my way, and somehow he lost his grip on the kid's wrist while he was doing it, and she twisted around and threw her arms around his knees, and that, as they say, was when the egg hit the fan.
It all happened at once, they were all in motion very fast, and it all seemed very slow and inevitable. Hans reached for something in his pocket, and Larry looked that way while desperately trying to struggle free of Penny, who clung to him tightly. And Jenny was coming out of her chair and making a dive, not for Larry but for me-she hadn't got word that I was on the right side, or she hadn't believed it. Well, I'd been expecting something of the sort; it didn't catch me wholly by surprise.
Hans had whipped out a little package of cigarettes, but he didn't handle it like cigarettes. He pointed it like a gun at Larry, who'd used a knee on the kid to free himself. She was laid out on the rug, and he was taking aim at Hans with the.38, and I'd lost a fraction of a second sidestepping Jenny's flying tackle.
I'd still have made it, however, if I'd had my own gun, but Hans' clumsy, sightless rig shot as high as Benjamin Franklin's kite. I felt the recoil, and heard the more-or-less silenced cough, and saw plaster fly from the wall on a line well above Larry's head. I pulled far down and fired again, hastily, but the.38 went off before the Spanish job kicked back at me a second time. How Hans was making out with his camouflaged weapon, whatever it was, I didn't know and didn't care as long as he stayed alive, the way I was supposed to keep him by any means necessary-but when I looked at him, after making sure of Larry, he was sitting on the floor with a funny, surprised look on his face.
Larry's only shot had been very good, or very bad, depending on the viewpoint. There was a lot of blood on Hans' shirt, and he was obviously dying, and that was that.
XVII
I STOOD by the door for a full minute, listening. That was first on the priority list. If there had been anybody awake within range of the earsplitting crack of the.38, not to mention the double cough of the silenced automatic, we didn't have to worry about anything but cops. They'd take care of all our other worries.
On the other hand, if there was nobody around but sleeping hotel guests, we might just get away with it. A man wakened from a sound sleep by a single, confused stutter of sound can't always be sure just what woke him-not sure enough to do something about it in a strange hotel in a strange city, perhaps a strange country. There aren't too many tourists public-spirited enough to call the desk, or the police, to report some gunshots they aren't even sure they heard, knowing the red tape that's bound to follow.