back. You were right. Uh, you--Burckhardt.
What do you want?"

* * * * *

Swanson piped up, "Watch him! He might have another gun."

"Search him then," Burckhardt said. "I'll tell you what we want,
Dorchin. We want you to come along with us to the FBI and explain to
them how you can get away with kidnapping twenty thousand people."

"Kidnapping?" Dorchin snorted. "That's ridiculous, man! Put that gun
away--you can't get away with this!"

Burckhardt hefted the gun grimly. "I think I can."

Dorchin looked furious and sick--but, oddly, not afraid. "Damn it--"
he started to bellow, then closed his mouth and swallowed. "Listen,"
he said persuasively, "you're making a big mistake. I haven't
kidnapped anybody, believe me!"

"I don't believe you," said Burckhardt bluntly. "Why should I?"

"But it's true! Take my word for it!"

Burckhardt shook his head. "The FBI can take your word if they like.
We'll find out. Now how do we get out of here?"

Dorchin opened his mouth to argue.

Burckhardt blazed: "Don't get in my way! I'm willing to kill you if I
have to. Don't you understand that? I've gone through two days of hell
and every second of it I blame on you. Kill you? It would be a
pleasure and I don't have a thing in the world to lose! Get us out of
here!"

Dorchin's face went suddenly opaque. He seemed about to move; but the
blonde girl he had called Janet slipped between him and the gun.

"Please!" she begged Burckhardt. "You don't understand. You mustn't
shoot!"

"_Get out of my way!_"

"But, Mr. Burckhardt--"

She never finished. Dorchin, his face unreadable, headed for the door.
Burckhardt had been pushed one degree too far. He swung the gun,
bellowing. The girl called out sharply. He pulled the trigger. Closing
on him with pity and pleading in her eyes, she came again between the
gun and the man.

Burckhardt aimed low instinctively, to cripple, not to kill. But his
aim was not good.

The pistol bullet caught her in the pit of the stomach.

* * * * *

Dorchin was out and away, the door slamming behind him, his footsteps
racing into the distance.

Burckhardt hurled the gun across the room and jumped to the girl.

Swanson was moaning. "That finishes us, Burckhardt. Oh, why did you do
it? We could have got away. We could have gone to the police. We were
practically out of here! We--"

Burckhardt wasn't listening. He was kneeling beside