"It can't go on much longer, Jeff. Your number's up next."
"For assignment?" Jeff's eyes flashed. "Do you think that makes any
difference to me? I'm following through to the end on this, no matter
what happens."
"But, Jeff, you can't sign a release."
Jeff stared at her in the silent room. "Why not? If it's the only thing
I can do--"
Her eyes were wide and very dark. "Oh, Jeff, you're in terrible danger
here."
"I know that."
"You don't, you don't." The girl was shaking her head, tears rising
to her eyes. "You don't know anything, Jeff, about the Mercy Men or
the kind of work they do. Oh, I know, you think you do. But you don't,
really. Look, Jeff--look at it straight--you're young, you're smart.
There are other ways to spend your life, more important things for you
to do. Can't you see that? No man is worth throwing your life away
for, no matter what he's done to you. That's what you're doing. You're
walking down a blind alley, into a death trap! Get out, while you can."
Jeff's head was shaking, his lips tight, until the color fled them,
leaving pale gray lines. "I can't get out. I just can't. Nothing anyone
could say could drive me out now."
"But you've got to run while you can! Oh, yes, go down there tonight
if you must, try to find him. But if you don't find him, cut and run.
Jeff, get out, tonight. They can't stop you; they have no legal hold on
you, yet. But once they bring in a release, you're hooked. It'll be too
late then."
Jeff's eyes narrowed, and he sat down on the bed and faced the girl.
There was an elfin expression on her face, a curious intensity in her
large gray eyes that he had never seen before. "What do you care?" he
asked suddenly. "What do you care what I do?"
The girl's voice was low, and the words tumbled out so rapidly that
he could hardly follow them. "Look, Jeff, you and me--we could work
as a team. Don't you see what we could do? We could get out of here,
together. We could get out of the city, go to the West Coast. The dice,
think of the dice, man--we could clean up! You don't belong in here on
the rack for slaughter. And I wouldn't belong here, either, if we could
work together--"
Somewhere in the distance an alarm bell began ringing, insistently,
clang-clanging down the corridors. Then there was a rush of feet,
shouted orders and calls up and down the hallway, and the squeak of
three jitneys passing by in rapid succession. Then, abruptly, the
corridor fell silent again.
Jeff hardly noticed the clamor. He stared at the girl, his hands
trembling. "Blackie, Blackie, think what you're saying. The tough-luck
jinx. Have you forgotten? You're safe from it here. But outside, what
would happen? We might make a go of it, yes, but what if the jinx
followed us?"
"Oh, but Jeff, that's silly." She swallowed, her eyes almost
overflowing as she tried to blink back the tears. "It isn't just
selfishness, Jeff. I could stay here. I talked to Schiml this
afternoon, before Harpo and Jacques started talking. They're out--yes.
But I'm not. He wants me to stay, says there's a place for me in the
work. But I don't want to stay."
Jeff was shaking his head slowly, his eyes tired. "It's no dice,
Blackie. Not now. After I get Conroe, after I get out of here, then
maybe I could think about it. But I haven't given this dice business
any thought at all. Can't you see? I'd have to think it out, carefully,
all its ramifications. And I haven't been able to do that. It hasn't
mattered enough. I've got a man to kill, first, before anything else.
And I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him tonight."
"Then do it for sure. Get him tonight! And then get out, before
something happens--"
In the corner the phone gave two sharp rings, then lapsed into silence.
Their eyes met, sharply, desperately. "Nothing's going to happen," Jeff
said softly. "Don't worry about it. I've been at this too long for
anything to happen."
There was a frantic light in the girl's gray eyes as she looked up at
him, a depth and sincerity he had never seen before. Her eyes pleaded
with him. "You don't know, you don't know...."
And then they were in each other's arms, drawing each other close,
desperately. His hard lips met her soft ones, met and held. Then when
they parted there was another look in her eyes, and he heard her breath
cut sharply by his ear. "Jeff--"
Gently he put a finger to his lips, loosened her arms from around him.
"Don't say it," he whispered. "Not now, Blackie. Not now--"
And then he was outside, in the corridor. The cool air caught him and
he ran down the corridor toward the stairs. He hurried against the time
the men had prepared for his safety. And as he ran, he felt his heart
pounding in his ears, and he knew the hour was drawing close.