I kept on listening. No loud voices, everything quiet and refined. He would be purring at her and she would be telling him she had let me go and I promised to let them get away. He wouldn't believe me, as I wouldn't believe him. So he wouldn't be in there long. He would be on his way and take her with him. All I had to do was wait for him to come out.
I couldn't do it. I shifted the gun to my left and hand leaned down to scoop up a handful of gravel. I tossed it against the screen of the window. It was a feeble effort. Very little of it reached the glass above the screen, but the loose rattle of that little was like a dam bursting.
I ran back to the car and got on the running board behind it. The house had already gone dark. That was all. I dropped quietly on the running board and waited. No soap. Canino was too cagey.
I straightened up and got into the car backwards, fumbled around for the ignition key and turned it. The warm motor caught at once. It purred softly, contentedly. I got out of the car again and crouched down by the rear wheels.
I was shivering now but I knew Canino wouldn't like that last effect. He needed that car badly. A darkened window slid down centimetre by centimetre, only some shifting of Saturn's reflected sunlight through the dome showed it moving. Flame spouted from it abruptly, the blended roar of three swift shots. Glass starred in the car. I yelled with agony. The yell went off into a wailing groan. The groan became a wet gurgle, choked with blood. I let the gurgle die sickeningly, on a choked gasp. It was nice work. I liked it. Canino liked it very much. I heard him laugh. It was a large booming laugh, not at all like the purr of his speaking voice.
Then silence for a little while, except for the rain and the quiet throbbing motor of the car. Then the house door crawled open, a deeper blackness in the black night. A figure showed in it cautiously, something white around the neck. It was her collar. She came out onto the porch stiffly, a wooden woman. I caught the pale shine of her silver wig. Canino came crouched methodically behind her. It was so deadly it was almost funny.
She came down the steps. Now I could see the white stiffness of her face. She started towards the car. A bulwark of defence for Canino, in case I could still spit in his eye. Her voice spoke through the lisp of the rain, saying slowly, without any tone: "I can't see a thing, Lash. The windows are misted."
Part 1