The Scotch was hitting me now. I felt a little drunk. Regretfully I put the cork back in the
bottle. I couldn’t risk getting plastered. She had said I was to go out and show myself. That’s
what I had to do.
I walked out of the bar and on to the terrace. It was hot out there. Below stood the Buick.
All I had to do … I dragged my eyes away from it and walked along the terrace, down the
steps, not thinking where I was going, but aware of the need to get away from the car and the
temptation to bolt.
A sudden noise brought me to a standstill: a deep-chested, guttural sound that seemed to
shake the ground, and which ended in a coughing grunt.
For a moment that sound had me going, then I realized it was the roar of a lion. I was
heading towards the zoo, and that transfixed me. The vision of throwing Reisner’s dead body
into the pit floated into my mind, and I felt my knees give under me.
I looked back over my shoulder. The Buick still stood there in the sunshine. What was I
waiting for ? I had to get out of here. I had seven hours and fifty minutes start. In that car I
could be four hundred miles away before they even began to look for me.
All right, I was plastered, and I was scared. The roar of the lion, reminding me what I had
to do at midnight, stampeded me. I turned and walked to the car, got in, trod on the starter and
slipped the gear stick into second. I took a quick look over my shoulder. No one shouted at
me. No one tried to stop me. The car moved away smoothly, gathering speed as I changed in
top. I drove along the wide carriageway, thinking in another minute or so I’d be out on the
highway where I could tread on the gas and go.
Ahead of me I could see the massive gates. They were closed, and the two uniformed
guards were standing in front of them, their hands on their hips. I touched the horn button,
slowed down, waiting for them to open up, but they didn’t. They just stood, watching me,
their faces expressionless under the hard peaks of their black caps.
I pulled up.
“What do you expect me to do - drive through those goddamn things ?”
I didn’t recognize my voice. It sounded as harsh as a file on rusty iron.
One of the guards sauntered up to me: a tough-looking bird with close-set eyes and a nose
that spread over his face, as if someone had given him the heel some time in his life.
135
“Sorry, Mr. Ricca,” he said. “But I gotta message for you.”
I looked at him, my hands gripping the steering-wheel until the muscles in my arms ached.
“What is it?”
“Mrs. Wertham said if you come this way we were to turn you back. She and Mr. Reisner
want to see you.”
I knew I could take him. He was leaning forward, wide open for a hook to the jaw. My eyes
shifted to his companion. He was standing away to my left, his hand on the butt of a gun he
carried in a holster at his hip. He looked ready to go into action.
“That’s okay,” I said, trying to smile. “I’ve seen them. Get those gates open. I’m in a
hurry.”
The guard’s cold, green eyes sneered at me.
“Then I guess they want to see you again. The call’s just come through. Sorry, but orders is
orders.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing I was licked. “I’ll see what they want.” I slid the gear stick into
reverse.
They stood watching me as I made a U-turn. They were still watching me as I drove back to
the casino.
I parked the Buick below the terrace and got out. I was trembling, and blood hammered
against my temples. I might have guessed I wasn’t going to outsmart her quite so easily. She
