"Unfortunately, my orders are to take him alive, if possible."
I grinned. "Maybe I should have left you locked in that cell. My orders happen to read otherwise."
He laughed. "Under the circumstances, I can probably convince the establishment that abduction was not possible. One more question, if you don't mind."
"Yes?"
"Did you really shoot her, old fellow? The lady upstairs?"
"Yeah, I shot her," I said. "I'm known far and wide as the lady-killer from New Mexico… What's that?"
The sound of a cry had leaked through the heavy door of Madame Ling's office. I put my ear to the panels and beard, of all things, McRow's pleading voice inside. Caruso in his finest moment had never sounded better, to my prejudiced ear.
"No, no, I had no intention of betraying… Of course I approve of your… Yes, yes, of course I will do everything I can to help."
I looked at Les, who whispered. "What Vadya said about your luck does not seem to be exaggerated. There's our pigeon. Shall we step inside and pluck it?"
I nodded. "In case you haven't been in there, there's a pair of switches behind the desk. If anybody reaches the black switch, we'll all be knee-deep in bubonic rats. The red one just blows up the joint. I'll take the left flank, if you don't mind. I think that thing of yours ejects to the right, and I shoot better when I'm not being showered with hot empties… Cross your fingers. I hope this door's unlocked."
It was. It burst open under our combined weight, showing us Madame Ling seated at the desk, while McRow sat in the chair I'd occupied earlier in the day. He was being worked on by the dark-faced man. There was no one else in the room.
It was a fairly simple business. I mean, the conventions are quite clear on who shoots what in a situation like that, just as when two men hunt together: the one on the left takes the birds flushing left, and vice versa. The dark-faced man was going for his gun, showing a commendable turn of speed. I shot him first, since he was the more dangerous of my two birds. That gave McRow time to rise and bolt for the bedroom door, an easy straightaway mark, and I dropped him in the doorway and swung back to make sure of the dark-faced man, who was still trying to get the gun out. He might have made it and then again he might not, but I saw no reason to wait and find out.
Only then did I realize that I hadn't heard the Shpagin fire. I swung right and saw, incredibly, Madame Ling still very much alive, standing by the desk with her hand in the air. I mean, the woman should have been dead all of five seconds by now. She looked me straight in the eye, and gave her silvery laugh, and hit the black switch behind her without a backward glance, before I could get my revolver clear around. Then the burp gun went off at last.
Sudden bloodstains blossomed on the silk tunic, and the woman slid to the floor, still smiling faintly. I jumped forward, over her body, and yanked at the switch, but it was a one-throw proposition; having done its work, it no longer functioned. I thought I could hear, far above, the whirring of the motors turning the gears that turned the long metal rods that wound up the chains that opened the cage doors. There was, obviously, only one thing left to do, before the rats got out and disappeared among the tunnels and cracks that honeycombed this rock. I'm no braver than the next man, but I seemed to hear Vadya's voice in my ear, scornfully: He did not have the courage to die in a situation that required his death.
Perhaps I was a little braver than Basil, at that. Anyway, I grabbed the red switch and pulled hard. Nothing happened.
chapter TWENTY-THREE
When it became quite apparent that nothing was going to happen, at least not right away, I turned from the wall to look at Les, who stood there with the muzzle of the burp gun pointed at the floor, looking sick. I looked at the gun in my own hand. There was one live cartridge left, I knew, and I had an impulse to use it. He knew what I was thinking.
"I… I just couldn't, old chap," he whispered. "I mean, she'd put her hands up, don't you know? I simply couldn't do it, in cold blood. Go ahead and shoot."
"Cold blood, hot blood!" I said. "Oh, Jesus Christ! What's temperature got to do with it?"
There was a little silence between us, during which I became aware of a faint ticking sound behind me. I went back and touched the box of the red switch. It was trembling faintly, as if alive: somewhere inside, clockwork was functioning. Well, that figured.
"I should have guessed," I said. "She wouldn't have a switch that would blow her to hell instantly. There'd be a time-delay, anything from five minutes to half an hour, enough to let her get clear once she'd pulled the handle. Enough to let the rats get well dispersed before the place went boom… You'd better go watch the hall. I'll be with you in a minute. Now you've pulled that trigger once, maybe it will come easier next time."
He looked at me without resentment, and moved dully to the door, which made me feel lousy. I mean, the thing was done; there wasn't any sense in rubbing his nose in it. I grimaced, and looked down at the slim woman on the floor, still smiling faintly in death. I went over and checked McRow. He was dead, too. At least that much had been accomplished, for what it was worth now. The dark-faced man was dead. It occurred to me that I never had learned his name or nationality, not that it really mattered. I got the gun from his shoulder holster.
The stuff on the desk caught my eye. I went over and looked for some papers of significance, secret formulas, instructions telling how to destroy the world, or save it. There was nothing that looked significant. There was still, however, a little pile of my belongings. I took time to slip my watch on my wrist and clip my folding knife to the neck of my pajama jacket. It had been given me by a woman of whom I'd been quite fond, and I didn't want to lose it if I could help it. Without pockets, I had no place to transport the rest of the stuff, so I just left it there.
As I started for the door, the Shpagin opened up with a short burst that echoed up and down the rock corridor outside. Les glanced around as I reached him.
"They're alerted, but I can hold the stairs as long as I have ammunition," he said. "Did you get that other man's gun? Give it to me."
Something had happened to him, now that he was getting to shoot at men. His load of guilt had slipped away; he looked almost happy. I gave him the extra pistol.
"Now you run along, old chap," he said. "Back the way we came. Turn right outside the observation ward. There is a passage there that leads to the cliff face, I am told. It is covered with painted papier-mвchй or canvas so it won't show to seaward, but that shouldn't be much of an obstacle. Can you swim?"
"More or less," I said. "Look, I-"
"One of us must get away to give the warning. You are not going to pick this moment to turn noble, my dear fellow? After all, I already have the symptoms; I am doomed. You still have a chance, if you get away. Cheerio."
I looked down at him, crouching there. It seemed to me
I was leaving a lot of doomed people behind. Again, there was nothing to say that didn't sound corny. I heard the Shpagin give another burst as I loped up the corridor. I almost fell when I stepped on something small and soft that squealed loudly; you wouldn't think there was that big a noise in that small a body. Obviously Madame Ling's black lever had done its work. The rats were loose.
I kept an eye out for the sentry from above, who was bound to have heard the racket. I saw him come into sight outside the observation ward, ducked back, waited until he was well silhouetted against the light, and dropped him with the last shot in my revolver. Below, the burp gun Cut loose again.
I had a momentary thought of Vadya as I passed the ward in which I'd left her, but I knew she wouldn't expect me to stop for her and I didn't. She was in no condition for a high dive and a long swim, anyway. It would kill her just as dead as Madame Ling's high explosive. The corridor leading to the cliff was cold and dark, and I had company in it. I told myself that I couldn't catch anything from a rat that I hadn't already got from a hypodermic, but the scurryings and squeakings didn't help the morale.