“Third door on the right, sir.”
I continued down the corridor and stopped outside room 46.
“Without your co-operation,” Ricca said, “it would have been impossible to get the money.
What a sensible young man you are.”
I unlocked the door and pushed it open.
“Quite luxurious,” Ricca said, looking in. He made no move to enter. “I think I’ll wait here.
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Bring the money to me.”
But I wanted him inside with the door shut.
“The door has to be closed before the safe will open,” I said, entering the room. “Wait
outside if you like.”
He looked up and down the empty corridor, then pulled out his gun.
“In that case I’ll come in with you. I don’t trust you out of my sight, but don’t make any
false moves.”
I had no qualms about killing him. Ginny’s life and mine were worth a lot more to me than
his. I knew the sound of a ‘22 wouldn’t be heard outside the steel-lined room.
I stood beside the safe and began to spell out the combination. I was calm and my hands
were steady. I kept thinking of Ginny along with Benno. I knew I mustn’t make the slightest
slip.
The safe door swung open.
“Better keep back,” I said. “There’s a gadget somewhere that photographs when the safe is
opened.”
“They seem to have thought of everything,” Ricca said. I could tell by his voice he wasn’t
suspicious. “Is the money there?”
“What do you think?” I hauled out the suitcase and dumped it on the table. There wasn’t
room for him to come around and stand by my side. He faced me. I snapped back the locks
and threw open the case. The open lid was towards him. He couldn’t see what was inside the
case. I tossed a bundle of bills on the table as he began to move forward. He paused and
looked at them, an oily smile spreading over his face. That gave me the opportunity to pick
up the .22 lying in the case.
I aimed through the lid of the case at his belly. A little gun like a -22 hasn’t much stopping
power, but I knew a slug in his gut would paralyse him. I waited until he began to move forward again, then looking right at him, I squeezed the trigger.
The gun went off with a noise like the breaking of a dry stick. Ricca reared back, his face
contorted with agony, his hands clutching at his fat paunch. Then he folded forward as if he
had a hinge in his back. His gun dropped out of his hand, and he fell across the table, his face
hanging over the upraised lid of the suitcase.
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I gave the top of his head a hard shove, and he slid off the table on to the floor.
I was breathing heavily, and I began to shake as I watched him squirm about on the floor,
his hands pressed to his belly, blood oozing out between his fingers.
I picked up his gun. Holding it by the barrel I bent over him. We stared at each other. There
was a film forming over his eyes, but by the way his mouth twisted into a snarl I knew he
could still see me. I hit him very hard in the centre of his forehead. The heavy butt of the gun
crashed down, breaking the akin and driving a little hollow into the broad expanse of bone.
He stopped squirming and stiffened out. For perhaps a second or so I stood over him, then
sure I had taken care of him I straightened up and stepped away from him.
I wiped the sweat from my face, dropped his gun by his side and shoved the .22 into my hip
pocket. I shut the suitcase and snapped down the locks. Then without looking at him, I
stepped to the door and opened it. The corridor was still empty. I locked the door, dropped
