It would take him no more than three seconds to snatch the gun, hide it, and flick on the light again.
Would Virginia Dodge fire at the nitro in those three seconds?
He did not believe so.
In the first place, even if she did fire, the room would be in total darkness and she probably wouldn't be able to hit the bottle.
Well, that's a hell of a gamble to be taking, he told himself. She doesn't even have to fire at it, you know. All she has to do is sweep it off the desk with her arm, and there goes eternity.
But he was banking on something else, a person's normal reaction to a suddenly darkened room. Wouldn't Virginia, in the confusion of the moment, assume there'd been a power failure or something? Wouldn't she hold her fire, hold the sweeping motion of her arm at least long enough to be certain one way or the other? And by that time, the lights would be on again and Hawes could invent some excuse about having turned them off by accident.
It had better be a damn good excuse, he told himself.
Or did it really have to be a good one? If, when the lights went on again, everything was apparently as it had been before the darkness, wouldn't she accept any alibi? Or would she remember the gun in the coat pocket? Well, if she did, they'd have it out then and there, nitro or no nitro. And at least they'd be evenly matched, a pistol for a pistol.
Again, he went over the steps in his mind. Get to the bulletin board, busy myself there, flick out the lights, grab the gun .
Now wait a minute.
There was an alternate switch at the far end of the corridor, just at the head of the metal steps. This switch, too, controlled the lights in the corridor and the squad-room so that it wasn't necessary to walk the entire length of the hall in complete darkness when coming onto the Second floor of the building. But Hawes wondered if he had to do anything to that second switch in order to ensure darkness in the squad room when he made his play. He did not think so. Each switch, he hoped, worked independently of the other, both capable of either turning on or extinguishing all the lights. In any case, it had better work that way. Virginia Dodge had already used her gun once, and she showed no signs of reticence about pulling the trigger again.
Well, he thought, let's get it over with.
He started across the room.
"Hey."
He stopped Angelica Gomez had laid a hand on his arm.
"You got a cigarillo?" she asked.
"Sure," Hawes said He took out his pack and shook one free.
Angelica accepted it, hung it on her full lower lip, and waited Hawes struck a match and lighted the cigarette.
"Much as gracias," she said.
"You got good manners. Tha's import an
"Yeah," Hawes said, and he started away from the girl, and again she caught his sleeve.
"You know something?"
"What?"
"I hate thees city. You know why?"
"No. Why?"
"No manners. Tha's the troo."
"Well, things are rough all over," Hawes said impatiently.
He started away again, and Angelica said, "Wha's your hurry?" and this time Virginia Dodge turned from the desk and looked at Hawes suspiciously.
"No hurry," he said to Angelica. He could feel Virginia's eyes on his back. Like two relentless drills, they bored at his spinal column.
"So sit down," Angelica said.
"Talk to me. Nobody thees city ever have time to talk. Iss diff'ren' on the islan'. On the islan', ever' body got time for every ting
Hawes hesitated. Virginia Dodge was still watching him. Trying to appear unhurried, he pulled up a chair and sat. Casually, perhaps too casually, he shook another cigarette from the package and lighted it.
His hand, he noticed, was shaking. He pretended to ignore Virginia completely, pretended to be interested only in the lively company of
~ngelica Gomez. But as he drew on his cigarette, he was wondering How long will it be before she remembers she's left a gun in that coat?
"Where you get that white in your hair?"
Angelica asked.
His hand wandered unconsciously to the white smear above his left temple.
"I was knifed once," he said.
"It grew back this way."
"Where you got knifed?"
"It's a long story."
"I got dine."
I haven't, he thought, and then he realized that Virginia was still watching him, and he wondered if she knew he was up to something, and he felt nervousness settle in his stomach like a heavy black brew. He wanted to let out his breath in a giant sigh, wanted to shout something, wanted to pound his fist against the wall. Instead, he forced himself to continue talking in a normal conversational voice, thinking about the pistol all the while, thinking about it so hard he could almost feel his fingers curling around the checked walnut stock.
"I was investigating a burglary," he said.
"The woman was pretty hysterical when I got there. I guess she was still in shock. She was terrified when I started to leave. I heard her begin screaming as I was going down the stairwell, the high hysterical screams. I was going to send a patrolman up as soon as I reached the street, but I never got that far. This guy came rushing at me with a knife in his hand."
