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Slowly Wiley stood up. "Please, don't. I beg you . . ." |
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"If you move, I'll shoot." |
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It was a voice behind Jerry. A woman's voice. He hadn't noticed that the piano had long stopped. He had gotten carried away. |
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On the wall near where Wiley had refilled his glass, Jerry spotted the intercom box. The small red light was on. Wiley dropped his arms. "Margaret, thank God." She had heard everything. "He was going to kill me." |
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What happened next took place in a flash. Jerry corkscrewed to the floor. Behind him was a woman dressed in red, sitting in a wheelchair. In her hand she held a small pistol aimed at Jerry. He recorded the white thin face, shoulder-length sandy hair and large eyes. Very large and dark. Even in that lightning glimpse, those eyes would stay with him. |
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Before they could blink again, he shot her above the left brow. The force snapped back her head, causing the chair to roll into the hall. |
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Even before Wiley could move, a long thin warble escaped from his lungs. Cat-quick, Jerry threw himself onto Wiley, pressing him into the chairback. Straddling him, Jerry rammed the end of the silencer through the O of his mouth and locked onto Wiley's eyes. Such eyes. |
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"Plan B," Jerry said, and squeezed the trigger. |
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