"You're worse than I am in some ways," Vullion said. "Did you deliberately lure me here? With your friend? Like you did with McGowan?" "I figured that out about ten minutes ago," Lucas said. "I knew about the surveillance," Vullion said through broken teeth. "Now, you just stand there," Lucas said as he stepped toward the telephone. Vullion stepped back carefully, but looked as though he might be recovering. Five steps." Lucas thrust the pistol at Vullion's chest. With an exhausted heave he got to his feet and swayed. Vullion was watching him as best he could, still dazed. "On your feet, asshole, or I swear to Christ I'll kick you to death." The other eye was closed, the lid and flesh around the socket bloody and swollen. Blood was running from his nose into his mouth. Vullion struggled up, fell back to his stomach, then pushed up to one knee. Vullion made no response, and Lucas kicked him in the hip.
Vullion, on his stomach, brought his hands to his ears. While he was down, Lucas picked up the pistol and walked quickly backward to the hallway, got the gym bag, and brought it inside. With a sweeping kick he knocked Vullion's legs out from beneath him, and guided his upper body down to the floor, protecting his head. Lucas' pistol was lying against the wall. He levered himself up off the bed, grabbed Vullion by the back of his shirt and physically lifted him from the floor and half-dragged, half-led him into the studio. The ambulance is coming, just stay here." "It's me, Lucas," he said next to her ear. Lucas reached forward and cut the tape that bound Carla's arms to the bed, then freed her legs. He hit him on the head with his closed left fist and Vullion twitched and moaned again. "Hurt me," Vullion moaned from beneath Lucas' knees. When he pulled the Kotex from her mouth, she gasped and then whimpered, an animal cry, like a rabbit's. He pulled the knife out of its plastic sheath and gently slipped the blade under the tape that circled Carla's head, holding the gag in place. A miniature Tekna knife dangled from the ring. He reached awkwardly into his pocket with his good hand and took out his key ring. His own breath was harsh and ragged in his ears. Lucas hit him twice with his left hand, pounding Vullion's ear, then rolled him off Carla into the narrow space between the bed and the wall and knelt on his head and shoulders. Then Lucas twisted the knife arm, and the knife fell to the floor. The impact lifted Vullion back, and they staggered together back into the tiny bedroom and Vullion's legs folded beneath him as he hit the bed and they fell together on top of Carla and Lucas pounded Vullion's face with his forearm once, twice, three times, the pain from his broken hand like lightning in his brain.Īnd then Vullion stopped. Lucas pivoted and caught the thrust with his broken hand and felt the hand flex and he screamed but the blade passed clear, under his arm, and he caught Vullion's knife hand with his left hand and smashed his right elbow into Vullion's eye socket. Lucas felt the bones in his right hand go and he pushed the pipe sideways with his left and Vullion's other hand was coming up in a long sweeping thrust and in it the knife was glittering like a short-sword toward Lucas' bowels. A white shape, trussed, arched, on the bed, another groan, nothing else.Īnother step, and suddenly Vullion was there, his eyes wide and hard like boiled eggs, his hands covered with fuzzy yellow gloves, a pipe of some kind in one hand, the pipe sweeping down, and Lucas twisted the last three inches he needed to fire and the pipe smashed into the back of his hand and the gun went down on the floor. There was a quiet sound from the left, like a cat dropping from a bookcase. Lucas exploded into the room, his pistol in a two-handed grip. He dropped the gym bag, took a step back, and kicked the door in. He hurried down to the doorway, saw the light coming from beneath it. Christ, if the maddog wasn't here, this was going to be embarrassing. "Right." Lucas patted him on the shoulder and dashed up the stairs.Ĭarla's door had better locks, he thought breathlessly as he came up the last few steps, but it was still a crappy door. Paul cops are going to come here, and you take them up in the elevator. "You stay right here," he told the janitor, who stood with his mouth hanging open.
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