Quinn saw everything very fast. The man was dead and bloody, throat all gone, and something went padding away, fast, in the dark. The sound wasn’t a dog or a cat. It was a person running.
But no panic this time. The act was so clearly wrong it pulled Quinn together. He ran after the sound of the feet.
At the next corner Quinn slowed. He did not think he was making a sound and then he saw the man waiting by a wall.
Knife, thought Quinn. He could see it. That would be twice, wouldn’t it? But not for me, Jack the Ripper, not for me-In great haste Quinn thought, why run after him anyway, why think he means me with that knife, why think that the dead man in the street has anything to do with me Suddenly the man with the knife stepped away from the wall and slowly moved towards Quinn. He said something in Arabic and stopped. He spoke again and came closer.
“And the hell with you, too,” said Quinn and didn’t wait any longer.
He thought the man was startled, that he moved back, but then the man with the knife never had a chance to start running. Even before he got his weapon up Quinn was on him like an animal and with a sharp hack tore the bottle across the dark face.
The man jerked like something pulled tight with wires, spun and screamed. He screamed so that Quinn swung out to cut him again. He felt so wild he heard nothing until the last moment.
He heard fast footsteps, then the voice. “No, Quinn. No!”
It was not the man with the ruined face. Quinn spun around and saw Turk. Confusion and Turk. Bloody face falling down on the stones, knife clatters, and Turk now.
“Come on. Run,” Turk hissed. “ Run. Now the others will come-”
“Who?…”
“Not now!”
Quinn hadn’t meant who are the others, he had meant who was the man whose face he had cut and who was the man who was dead just yards away and who in this night town knew anything to explain anything And there wasn’t any more question about anything when two more Arabs came running. At first Quinn could only tell they were there by the white rag wrapped around the bead of one of them and the long white shirt fluttering around the other. And he felt how Turk tensed. They ran.
The other two got distracted by the man in the street whose face had been slashed, and when Turk stopped sharply and turned to run up the stone steps between two houses, Quinn looked back quickly and could tell what the two others were doing. They stooped over the man on the ground, a motion of white cloth and then they leaped up.
Quinn followed Turk up the steps and saw they were in a dead end. There was a blank wall and a door which was recessed deeply.
“In here,” said Turk. “It’s all right. You’ll see.”
They squeezed into the doorway and watched the other two come up the stairs.
“You got a gun?” asked Quinn.
“Too noisy. Besides, they can only come up one behind the other.”
They did. They seemed to know where Quinn and Turk must be hiding. They were going more slowly now.
“You know how to throw a knife?” said Quinn.
“I would lose it.”
“When I throw the bottle we jump them,” said Quinn.
Turk only nodded. When Quinn stepped out, to block the steps, the two men below looked up and stopped. It was slow and weird now, because Turk talked to them and they talked back.
“What goes on?”
“I am bargaining.”
“And?”
“The one in front says he’ll let us run again and the other one says he doesn’t care. They are both lying.”
Quinn suddenly threw the bottle. He threw the bottle because a new figure had showed at the bottom of the stairs and startled him. The bottle hit the first Arab’s arm and the man gave a gasp. He staggered enough to get entangled with his friend. Turk rushed past Quinn now, knife field low.
When Quinn got halfway down the steps the two Arabs were scrambling, or falling-it was hard to tell which-back down to the bottom. One lost his knife, the other was holding his arm. Turk was over them and the third man stood there, too. They were talking again when Quinn got there. Then the man with the rag around his head made a hissing sound and Turk pulled his knife out of him.
Quinn sat down on the bottom step, head between his knees, and threw up. When he looked up again only Turk was there and he was smoking.
“Better?” he said.
“Gimme a cigarette.”
“I thought you didn’t smoke.”
“Just gimme.”
Turk gave him one and explained, “Remal sent somebody for the girl right away It was stupid of you to take her to Whitfield’s house. Remal figured as much. But no matter.”
“Huh?”
“She had no tongue. Did you know that?”
Quinn put his head down again but nothing else came up.
“I didn’t know it either or I would have told you. Anyway, here we are.”
“What else happened?”
“I sent a man with you. All the time. A friend of mine. Didn’t you know this?”
“No.”
“You cut his face. It’s too bad, but then you didn’t know.”
“Who was the dead man in the street, the first one?”
“One of the three that Remal sent after you. He waited for you, he had seen you, but then the one whom you later cut, my friend, killed him there. It was very unfortunate that you hurt him.”
“You should have told me.”
“Yes. Would you like a drink?”
“And the two who came up these steps, they were Remal’s men?”
“Yes. One is dead, the other, you saw, is with us now.”
“And the one at the bottom of the steps, that last minute?”
“Another friend of mine. He and Remal’s man are now cleaning up.”
“Huh?”
“The dead must be disposed of. Everything will be much more quiet that way.”
Quinn threw the cigarette away and thought, yes, how nice and quiet.
“Except when Remal finds out,” he said.
“On the contrary. What does Remal gain by making a noise over something he already knows? He will soon know that you are not dead, that two of his men are dead and he has lost another.”
“Yes. Good old reasonable Remal. Now he’s scared and won’t lift a finger anymore. I’m sick laughing,” Quinn said.
“You need a drink,” said Turk.
“Where is Remal now?”
“He is busy. He has to attend to the boat.”
“What else? Naturally. Must attend to inventory.”
“You need a drink,” Turk said again.
“And Whitfield slept through it all?”
“I told you Whitfield knows how to live within limitations.”
Quinn nodded and got up from the steps. He felt shaky and hollowed-out. He steadied himself by the wall for a moment and took a few deep breaths. He thought how he had started out on this walk and where he had been going. I was going to her house, but just as well. She probably would have been asleep. And of course going to her house would have meant ignoring everything else. And that can’t be. That can’t he any more.
“Turk,” he said. “I’ve got to plan something now. Find a place where we won’t be disturbed.”
They walked off.
At this point Quinn had just about everything back that he had ever had.
Chapter 12
Where the main street ended and the quarter began there was also a dirt road which went down to the water. They went down to the water, past the rocks, and sat in a black shadow. Only the night sky seemed to have light. Turk said nothing because he was waiting and Quinn said nothing because he was trying not to think. I’ll start with the first thing that comes to my mind “I’ve changed my mind,” he said.
Turk didn’t know yet what that meant, but the voice he heard next to him in the dark was hard and impersonal. It was impersonal with an effort and Turk felt uneasy.
“I told you once I’d help you to a slice of Remal if you helped me.”
“I know. I remember.”
“You came through and now I’ll come through. Except for this.”
Turk bit his nail and wished he could see Quinn’s face.