it.
Christy was glaring at me under his brow thickets. “Listen, Goodwin, I'm supposed to have you somewhere at four o'clock, and it's five to three now. I waited for you nearly half an hour. Let's go. You can argue on the way.
I had done my arguing, double-quick, while he was speaking. To balk was out of the question. To stall and try to get an idea what the programme really was would have been sappy. I got my keys out again, unlocked the bottom drawer, took off my jacket, got out the shoulder holster, slipped it on, and twisted my torso to reach for the buckle.
“What's that for, woodchucks? Christy asked.
“Just force of habit. Once I forgot to wear it and a guy in an elevator stepped on my toe. I had to cut his throat. If we're in a hurry, come on.
We went. Down at the curb, as I had noticed on my way in, force of habit again, was a dark blue Olds sedan, a fifty, with a cheerful-looking young man with a wide mouth, no hat, behind the wheel. He gave me an interested look as Christy and I got in the back seat, but no words passed. The second the door slammed the engine started and the car went forward.
The Olds fifty is the only stock car that will top a hundred and ten, but we never reached half of that-up the West Side Highway, Sawmill River, and Taconic
State. The young man was a careful, competent, and considerate driver. There was not much conversation. When Christy took the report from his pocket and started reading it my first reaction was mild relief, on the ground that if I were about to die they wouldn't give a damn what my last words were, but on second thought it seemed reasonable that he might be looking for more evidence for the prosecution, and I left the matter open.
It was a fine sunny day, not too hot, everything looked very attractive. I hoped
I would see many more days like it, in either town or country, I didn't care which, though ordinarily I much prefer the city. But that day the country looked swell, and therefore I resented it when, as we were rolling along the Taconic
State Parkway a few miles north of Hawthorne Circle, Christy suddenly commanded me, “Get down on the floor, face down.
“Have a heart, I protested. “I'm enjoying the scenery.
Til describe it to you. Shall we park for a talk?
“How much time have we?
“None to waste.
“Okay, pull your feet back.
The truth was, I was glad to oblige. Logic had stepped in. If that was intended for my last ride I wouldn't ever be travelling that road again, and in that case what difference did it make if I saw where we turned off and which direction we went? There must have been some chance that I would ride another day, and without a chaperon, or this stunt was pointless. So as I got myself into position, wriggling and adjusting to keep my face downward without an elbow or knee taking my weight, the worst I felt was undignified. I heard the driver say something, in a soft quiet voice, and Christy answering him, but I didn't catch the words.
There was no law against looking at my watch. I had been playing hide and seek, with me it, a little more than sixteen minutes, with the car going now slower and now faster, now straight and now turning left and now right, when finally it slowed down to a full stop. I heard a strange voice and then Christy's, and the sound of a heavy door closing. I shifted my weight.
“Hold it, Christy snapped at me. He was still right above me. “We're a little early.
“I'm tired of breathing dust, I complained.
“It's better than not breathing at all, the strange voice said and laughed, not attractively.
“He's got a gun, Christy stated. “Left armpit.
“Why not? He's a licensed eye. We'll take care of it.
I looked at my watch, but it was too dark to see the hands, so of course we were in out of the sun. The driver had got out, shut the car door, and walked away, if I was any good at reading sounds. I heard voices indistinctly, not near me, and didn't get the words. My left leg from the knee down, got bored and decided to go to sleep. I moved it.
“Hold it, Christy commanded.
“Nuts. Tape my eyes and let me get up and stretch.
“I said hold it.
I held it, for what I would put at another seven minutes. Then there were noises-a door opening, not loud, footsteps and voices, a door closing, again not loud, still steps and voices, a car's doors opening and shutting, an engine starting, a car moving, and in a minute the closing of the heavy door that had closed after we had stopped. Then the door which my head was touching opened.
“All right, a voice said. “Come on out.
It took acrobatics, but I made it. I was standing, slightly wobbly, on concrete, near a concrete wall of a room sixty feet square with no windows and not too many lights. My darting glance caught cars scattered around, seven or eight of them. It also caught four men: Christy, coming around the rear end of the Olds, and three serious-looking strangers, older than our driver, who wasn't there.
Without a word two of them put their hands on me. First they took the gun from my armpit and then went over me. The circumstances didn't seem favourable for an argument, so I simply stood at attention. It was a fast and expert job, with no waste motion and no intent to offend.
