Fial muttered something, apparently agreeing. Fiala glared at him. Something wild and primitive animated her. She seemed much younger, much harder. And her English, Cash noted, had improved markedly.
Fiala snapped, 'You, Colonel, are the traitor. The kind Marda's grandfather called the worst. The kind who abuses position, who betrays a trust, to satisfy his ego.'
'What the hell is all this?' Cash asked. 'You people know something about my son?'
'Too much talk. Norman, I want these people.' Smiley gestured. The movement became a slap. Fial backed away, rubbing a stinging cheek. 'Or do I have to take them? Bitch.' He moved again. Fiala evaded his swing. One foot tried for his groin.
'Doc, I wouldn't try anything if I was you. Too many guns around here. All we can do is cut each other up. Prize goes to the last man standing up. That wouldn't be you.' He revealed his weapon. 'You might say I've taken a dislike to you lately.'
Believing Malone's allegations about the man's past had become easy.
A ghost of a smile teased Smiley's lips. But he was less calm than he pretended. He kept glancing at his watch. With his left thumb he kept fidgeting with his wedding band.
'All right. Your point. A draw.' To Fial and Fiala, 'But we still have eighty years. We'll meet again.' Smiling wickedly now, he backed toward the door.
How do I stop him? Cash wondered. Hank wants him, too.
There was no way. Not without a Shootout.
Too late, Norm noticed the absence of the stairway and kitchen gunmen. Tran now lay in a heap beside the man he had subdued. Cash had missed whatever had happened there.
The helicopter chugged to life.
Cash whirled.
Smiley was gone, too.
'The sonofabitch is going to get away!'
Fial collapsed. Moaning, he clawed at a bright purple mark on his cheek.
'What the…?'
'The bastard foxed us,' Malone spat as he crawled from behind the couch. 'He was wearing a poison ring…'
'Norm, look out!' Beth shrieked.
Guns boomed.
Bullets parted Cash's hair as he plunged to the floor. Polish firing squad, he thought.
He saw slugs tear at Miss Groloch's clothing, saw Smiley vanish again before anyone could hit him. The old woman silently sat down beside her brother. Feebly, she reached for his hand.
Cash scrambled toward the doorway. He looked out, got back an instant before fragments of brick, wood, and metal started flying.
The helicopter sounded ready for takeoff.
He joined a rush to the kitchen.
Through a window he watched Smiley's behind vanish into the chopper. Malone grabbed the downed gunman's abandoned AK47 and broke the pane.
The Rochester policeman started out the backdoor, but threw himself back as a fusillade raked the house.
Something bit Norm in the side.
Malone fired on a man running for the aircraft, missed, ducked return fire. The man made it as the ship lifted off.
'Shit!' Cash thundered. 'Goddamned! They're going to getaway.'
Malone emptied his weapon. Cash and Segasture followed suit. Theirs was a gesture of frustration. The range was too great for handguns.
Staying low, the helicopter vanished over a line of trees, racing north.
'They'll be in Canada before we can do anything,' Malone said. He slammed the assault rifle against a wall. 'Damn. He was ahead of us every step of the way.'
Cash tossed his weapon into the sink. He felt emptied, defeated, unable to care even about the stinging in his side.
He went to check on Tran.
The major was breathing evenly. Cash could find no sign of injury.
An auto roared. Tires squealed.
'The other one!' Cash shouted. 'He's getting away, too!'
Segasture and the Rochester cop rushed the front door. A siren began wailing out on the road.
'You bastard!' the patrolman yelled. 'Did you see that? He took my car. How the hell am I going to explain that?'
