The fat guy came forward and rammed the barrel of his rod into my neck. “Take it easy,” he said softly, “this gun don't make much noise.”
The cold barrel digging into me cooled me off quick. I let go of Gus, who scrambled to his feet. The fat guy said: “I don't want to rub you out, but I'll do it all right if you ask for it.”
I met his eyes. This guy meant everything he said.
“I'll be good,” I said.
The barrel of the gun looked like a cannon to me.
Gus said: “Watch him... he's slippery.”
The fat guy shook his head. “He'll be all right now, you see.”
I sat on the floor hoping that Mardi would start yelling out of the window. I didn't hear a sound, and my heart sank.
“Come on, get up,” the fat guy said, digging the gun into me again.
I got to my feet.
“If you think you're goin' to start anything, I should forget it. This rod's got a light trigger.”
I guess that guy would think nothing of touching his gun off, so I just stood.
Gus came round the back of me and jerked my arms behind me. For a moment I stiffened my muscles, but the gun kept digging into me. I thought maybe I'd be more useful to Mardi alive than dead, so I let him rope me.
I tried the dodge of expanding my arm muscles, so that I could have a little slack when the time came, but Gus knew all about roping, and when he put the pressure on I called him some fancy names.
They stood back and looked at me.
Gus said to the fat guy: “We gotta get goin'.” He went over to Mardi's door and turned the handle. The door was locked. I knew that door would want some opening. They could only do that by making a hell of a noise.
I said: “Skip it, you two guys, can't you leave us alone? You ain't getting in there without callin' out the riot squad, so why not turn it in?”
The fat guy gave a little chuckle. When he laughed he certainly looked mean. “This is easy,” he said. “We'll get her out quick an' quiet.'
He went to the door and pushed Gus on one side. He put his bullet-head against the panels. “Come on out, sister,” he said, speaking in his hoarse, croaking voice. “We want you out in ten seconds or we start on your boy friend.”
I yelled: “To hell with them, Mardi! You stay where you are. Yell out of the window...!”
Gus hit me across the mouth with the back of his hand. His bony knuckle cut my lip and I staggered across the room, getting my balance.
The fat guy knocked on the door again. “Wait a minute, sister,” he called. “Don't you start anythin' until I'm through. Then you can make up your mind. I know you're in there, so you don't have to be cagy. You can hear me okay?”
“I can hear you.” Mardi's voice was pretty steady.
“If you don't come out right now, I'm going to get tough with your boy friend. When I say tough, I mean tough, get it? I'll give you ten seconds, an' if you ain't out by then I'm goin' to give him the works.”
I dodged Gus's rush and yelled, “It's a bluff... yell out of the window... don't open——”
Again Gus's fist smashed into my face and this time I went over. I was quick enough to jerk my head away from the kick he aimed at me.
Mardi opened the door and came out.
The fat guy and Gus stood motionless staring at her. I saw Gus's eyes open and he pursed his mouth.
She stood framed in the doorway, one hand hanging by her side and the other holding the door handle. Her face was pale and her eyes were wide, but she held her head up and she wasn't looking scared.
“What do you want?” she said, her voice steady and cold.
I felt mighty proud of the way she faced up to these two thugs. The fat guy came forward, his face beaming, but his eyes very mean.
“Well! Well! Ain't she a peach?” he said, standing in front of her. 'We're all goin' for a little ride. Get your wrap, will you? An' make it fast.”
I struggled to my feet. “Listen,” I said, keeping an eye on Gus, who was beginning to sidle towards me, “you won't get anywhere on a gag like this. Drop it, will you?”
The fat guy glanced at Gus. “If that punk opens his trap any more, shut it for him and shut it for good.”
Gus drew a rubber truncheon from his back pocket. He balanced it thoughtfully in his hand. “Sure,” he said, and grinned.
Mardi came over to me, but the fat guy stepped between us. “We don't want to get tough,” he said, “but we will if you don't behave.”
She looked at me and I gave her a pale grin. I was feeling bad about all this. Then she squared her shoulders and picked up her wrap.
The fat guy stepped to her side. “That's fine,” he said. “Now we go downstairs, if you start anythin', Gus'll wash up the punk. Hear that, Gus?”
Gus said, “Sure.” He threw my overcoat cape-wise over my shoulders and jerked his head. We all went out into the corridor and went silently down into the street. There was a big closed car standing outside the house. The streets were deserted and the pale dawn was coming up over the roofs. It would be over an hour before any one would be around on the streets.
