Bat shuffled round, still holding the girl in front of him. He cursed softly, vilely, backed.
I had left the door unguarded by my move to the gun. Bat jerked it open, stepped into the passage, dragging the screaming girl with him. The door slammed.
I snatched up the Luger, shoved the .38 into my pocket, ran to the door. The passage outside was in darkness.
A door opened at the end of the passage, a man’s head appeared. I fired above it. The head jerked back, the door slammed. Voices sounded below. A man bawled up to know what was going on. At the head of the stairs the blonde screamed wildly for help. Her scream was throttled back into her throat.
If Bat had been on his own I’d have nailed him then, but I couldn’t see, and I didn’t want to kill the girl. I swore softly, moved out into the passage.
Bat suddenly yelled: “Gimme a gun, Mike. Quick!”
I ran towards the sound of his voice. I could just see him with the girl held in front of him, crouching against the wall at the head of the stairs.
“Come out of it, you yellow rat,” I said, caught hold of the girl’s arm.
She kicked out, screamed like a train whistle.
Bat made himself small behind her, cursed me, hung on.
“Let go of her,” I panted, dodging her kicks. One of them caught me in the stomach, winded me for a moment.
I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs, turned.
The red-faced man from the next landing was rushing up, a gun in his hand. He fired wildly at me. The bullet slapped into the wall above my head. I shot him between the eyes. He went down like a pole-axed bull.
I heard a grunt from Bat, spun around. I hadn’t a chance to get out of the way. Bat had caught up the girl, held her above his head. He flung her at me as I tried to dodge. Screaming frantically, she sailed through the air like a shell. She hit me chest high. I went over, heard her wail, then crash through the rotten banisters and thud to the landing below.
Bat rushed down the stairs, missed his step, jumped. He landed with a crash as I fired after him.
I waited, listened.
A ghastly sobbing sound from the girl drifted up the wall of the staircase.
I peered over the rotten rail into darkness.
A spurt of flame lit the landing below. A slug cut through my coat sleeve, slicing a piece out of my arm. For blind shooting, it was impressive. I fired back, flung myself down as Bat opened up. He fired three times, stopped.
I crawled towards the stairs, began to go down them head first, flat, pulling myself forward with my hands.
“You there, bub?” Bat called. “You won’t get away this time.”
The girl began to scream again.
“Oh, my back!” she gasped. “Bat! Help me. My back—it’s broken. Help me, Bat.”
I heard Bat curse her. I crawled on, the hair on the back of my neck bristling at the whimpering screams from the girl.
“Shaddap,” Bat hissed at her. “I can’t hear him with all this racket. Shaddap!”
“It’s my back,” she sobbed, screamed again.
Half-way down I crawled into the body of the man I had shot. I paused, touched him, tried to satisfy myself that he was dead. He didn’t move as I pawed him over in the sticky darkness. I decided to crawl over him.
Bat said to the girl. “I’ll finish you if you don’t shaddap.”
I was nearly on him now. He couldn’t hear me because of the noise the girl was making.
I heard him curse. The girl suddenly stopped screaming.
“What are you doing?” she moaned. “Take that gun away. Bat!” Her voice shot up in a shrill note of terror.
A single crack of gunfire exploded close to me. There was silence.
I caught a glimpse of Bat as he moved, lifted my gun, fired. He must have seen my movement for he fired at the same time. His bullet ploughed a weal along my cheek. I watched him. He rose up, tottered back, his gun slipping out of his hand. I fired again. The slug socked into him, throwing him back. He fell down, stretched out.
I pulled out my electric torch. The beam lit up a nightmare scene. The girl lay on her side, bent back, half her face was shattered by the heavy bullet from Bat’s gun. Bat lay near her, his hand touched her naked foot. Blood seeped out of him like water from over-boiled cabbage I turned him over. He moved, blinked his eyes, snarled at me.
“So long, Bat,” I said, put the gun to his ear. Before I could squeeze the trigger, his eyes rolled back, fixed. I stood up.
My arm ached. Blood dripped down from my fingers, from my face on to my collar. My side hurt. I didn’t care. It was over—finished. I could go back to Clair now and start afresh.
I walked to the front door, slid back the bolts, stepped into the night. I was still holding the Luger. I looked at it, wondering if I should get rid of it. Maybe I wouldn’t need it again. Maybe I would. It was hard to believe that I was going to settle down. I had tried it for a few months and it hadn’t worked. Well, I was going to try it again, but I was going to be prepared. Some wise guy might try to crowd me again, and I would be ready for him. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. Right now, I wanted to get back to Clair. The future, I decided, as I set off in the darkness, could take care of itself.
