"You've done pretty well so far," said the gentle tone. "Need any help?"
"Yes," said Kintyre. "Get out there and find her."
"I'll do what I can," said Trygve Yamamura.
Kintyre hung up. Guido sat knotted about a kitchen chair. "Well?" he
asked raggedly.
"You were listening," said Kintyre. "They've got her. Give me a
cigarette."
"My sister," mumbled Guido.
Kintyre barked an obscenity. "Hell of a brother she's got," he said.
He lit up and stalked the kitchen floor. The clock said after eleven.
Corinna had been taken--when? Three-plus hours ago, at a guess. But
they would have had to find a place to question her. That would give a
little time. They could conceivably be en route this minute.
"We're being a pair of prize schtunks," said Guido.
"Hm?" Kintyre threw him a look.
"Sitting here calling each other hard names. I mean, we ought to be out
searching for her."
"Where?"
"Any place!" Guido's face was drawn taut; there was a tic over his
right eye. "Every address we eliminate is something."
"How many houses in the Bay Area?" Kintyre flopped onto a chair.
Through the doors he had locked in himself, the horror hooted.
"Well, for Chrissake, man," said Guido, "I don't mean to search the
bishop's! We can think of some possible places, can't we?"
"I don't know."
"Ah, spit. We're doing nobody any good. Let's go for a ride. It might
clear our brains some."
"The great American solution. Let's go for a ride."
Guido regarded Kintyre for a moment or so.
"Does it help you to feel superior, cat?" he asked quietly.
Kintyre's head jerked up. After a few seconds:
"Okay. I'll just phone in to let the police know we're going."
They left the cottage and Guido took the wheel of Kintyre's old black
sedan. "Any special route, Doc?" he inquired.
"Oh, I don't know. The coast highway, southbound."
"State One? It's a bastardly slow drive beyond the freeway."
"What have we to hurry for?"
Guido slid the car into smooth motion. One-handed, he lit a fresh
cigarette. "My solitary trick," he said wryly.
"You sing pretty well," said Kintyre.
"Not as well as I might. That takes work, and I'm not that interested."
"What are you interested in?" Kintyre responded mechanically.
"Right now, getting her back unhurt," said Guido. "Think there's a
chance?"
"I thought we were going to clear our brains," rapped Kintyre.
They remained silent past the tollgate. Once they were on the bridge,
with the quicksilver sheet of the Bay under them and San Francisco
thinly misted ahead, Guido nagged:
"Where could they go? It'd have to be some place nobody would hear
them, no cops would come around to. Pretty short notice to rent a
house again. I mean, especially when an alarm might go out with their
descriptions. Of course, they could just bust into a house offered to
let."
"The police will be checking that."
"Uh-huh. Only Doc, wouldn't they expect it and try to outsmart the
police? Dig me? Let's turn off at the ramp. I'm a waterfront kid, I
know some old places where you could get in and--"
"Would they know about it?" snorted Kintyre.
"I suppose not." Crestfallen, Guido held the car in the middle lane.
When they got onto the southbound freeway, he opened up.
Kintyre, a conservative driver, had never pressed his car to the limit.
Now he saw the needle hover at ninety; wind snapped by the doors. "You
want a ticket?" he asked.
"I don't much care," said Guido roughly. "Man, I got to do something,
don't I? If I can't help her, I got to do something."
The minutes passed. No patrol car sirened at them. There was not,
indeed, much traffic at this time of a Thursday. As they fled south,
onto the old two-lane highway, the sky grew overcast.
"Nuts," said Guido. "There'll be fog along the coast. We'll have to
crawl. Let's turn back."
"No," said Kintyre. "Keep going."
Guido stole an indignant look at him. "Wait a second," he began.
"Keep going, I said!" Kintyre roared it.
Guido started. Then, shrugging, he gave his attention back to the road.
"Is it that important?" he asked.
Kintyre didn't answer because he didn't know. He sat hunched into
passivity, not caring how fast they went or if they crashed. It
shouldn't matter to him where he was taken. But it did. He couldn't
tell why--_damn that fouled subconscious of mine, anyway!_ But it was
like a hand upon him.
Perhaps it was only that he had to get back for a while to the great
shouting decency of the ocean.
"You're a funny one, Doc," said Guido after a long time.
"Aren't we all?"
"You're crazy, even for a human being. I mean, you're the cat who's
had the adventurous life, got the culture, made the big success--oh,
yes, you don't get paid much, but you know damn well how far you've
succeeded and how much further you can go--you're everything Bruce
wanted to be. Hell, you're everything I wish I wanted to be. And you
can't wait to die!"