Mickey Spillane - Survival... ZERO!

He still fought, and he was still able to see what was happening when his own hand drove the knife completely through his neck until it was imbedded in the floor behind.

I picked up my rod and eased the hammer back.

Okay, Lippy, it was almost paid for.

You shouldn't stop and think back. I should have known that. All the years in the business and I forgot a little thing that could kill you. It wasn't instinct that turned me in time. It was accident. I should have known they'd send another one out to see what had happened and he was standing there behind me with a gun coming out of his pocket, a flat, ugly little thing with a deadly snout ready to spit.

But you don't beat a guy to the draw who already has a gun in his fist, and I triggered the .45 into a roaring blast that caught him just off center from his nose and threw the entire back of his skull against the door. I was over him before he had crumpled to the tiles and met the other one coming in and this time I was ready. He only saw me as the slug was tearing his chest apart, dropped the Luger and stood there in momentary surprise, then fell in a lifeless heap, blocking the doorway.

Chairs crashed backward outside and there was a shrill scream cutting through the curses. I kicked the corpse out of the way, yanked the door open in time to see that smiling, pleasant Mr. Kudak who was so political, who had come from one regime into another without anybody ever knowing about it, picking himself up off the floor. He didn't have a gun, but he had a mind that was even more

dangerous so I blew it right out of its braincase without the slightest compunction and ran across the room, jumping the knocked-over furniture, and reached the door just as it was locked in my face.

They shouldn't have bothered. One shot took the lock away and I kicked the door open and stood there with the .45 aimed at William Dorn who was pulling a snub-nosed revolver from the desk drawer, then swung the .45 to cover Renée Talmage who was standing there beside him. They never saw me thumb the empty .45 back into the loaded position.

"Don't bother, William," I said. "Toss it in the middle of the floor."

For a second I thought he'd try for me anyway and I got that strange feeling up across my shoulders. I knew what would happen if he did. But there are those who can plan violence and those who could execute it. He wasn't one of those who could pull the trigger.

Right now he was thinking and I knew that too. I could take them in, say what I had to say, and while the police held them the big death would be released and all he had to do was wait long enough and everybody would be gone except them and they could walk out easily enough.

I grinned and said, "It couldn't happen that way, William."

They looked at each other. Finally he straightened and tried to regain his composure. "What?"

"You could be in a cell. So everybody's dead. You'd still be in a cell and you'd starve to death anyway."

Renée spoke for the first time. "Mike . .."

"Shut up, Renée. For a whole lifetime I'm going to have to look back and remember that I liked you once. It's going to be a damn nasty memory as it is, so for now, just shut up."

Now there was something about the way they looked at each other. And I was enjoying myself. It was going to be fun bringing them in like this. They'd hate me so hard after it they would never be able to live with themselves.

"You never should have killed the wrong man, William," I said. "Just think, if your bright boys had really been on the ball when they went after that pickpocket and found where he was living, you would have won the whole ball game. But no, they put the knife to the wrong boy, and the right one hit the road. He was a sharp article too and when he knew what was chasing him he pulled out all the stops. Right then he knew what he had was important and started playing his own game."

"See here ..."

"Knock it off. It's over, William. The trouble with Beaver was, he didn't know who really was out to kill him. The only stuff worth while was what he had from you and Woody Ballinger. He tried to tap you both and almost got tapped out by Woody first. Old Woody has manpower too.

"I guess you thought I was a real clown getting into the act, stumbling all over trying to square things with a nobody who had gotten himself knocked off. Brother, you should have done your homework better. I work on the dark side of the fence myself."

Renée was watching me, her hands clasping and unclasping, something desperate in her eyes. "You're a cutie, honey," I told her. "The act in your apartment was neat, real neat. You saw those pictures I had of Beaver and slipped one out of my pocket when I was lying there all nice and naked and getting beautifully vibrated. You slipped it to your maid to deliver to William here when she was supposed to go to the drugstore. It doesn't take a half hour to go to a drugstore a block away. Then all the manpower went into high gear again. I went and laid out the story for you in detail that made things nice and easy. You got bullet-creased by an enemy I was on to so I thought you were square with me ... not the real enemy after all. I'm getting old, chums. I'm just not thinking hard enough, I guess. In my own way I have a little luck here and there, and people make mistakes. Like William's maid mentioning the meeting here tonight and you not being sharp enough to have your maid tell me you were sleeping in case I called.

"Maybe all the excitement was too much for you. Things were coming to a head and you were ready to be king and queen. Now I'm going to tell you something. You never would have made it. That vaccine doesn't make you immune."

This time their eyes met, held a second, and the fear was there all the way.

I said, "We know the story, at least most of it. Now there will be time to dig the rest of it out. Nobody will ever know about it though and that's the way it should be. Maybe now some of this crappy rivalry between countries will slow down and there will be some sensible cooperation. I doubt it, but it may happen for a while and even that's better than nothing. I found your little sheet of onionskin, William, all nicely detailing where those cannisters were

planted and right now every one of them is being located and deactivated. If you don't believe me I'll name a few."

I gave him four and he knew for certain then.

"By tomorrow there will be some other things added. It won't take the pros long to get all the names of your people and the net will tighten quickly and tightly and all your beautiful hopes will go up in smoke."

Something about them had changed. It had started when they looked at each other. It had grown fast, and now they looked at each other again, a resigned look that had a peculiar meaning to it and William Dorn said, "We go nowhere, Mr. Hammer."

"You're going with me," I told him. "Consider yourself lucky. At least here you get due process of law. Your own people would kill you the slowest way they know how."

"They would manage somehow anyway, I'm afraid."

"That's your tough luck," I said.

"No, long ago we prepared for such an eventuality. The preparation was drastic and simply an eventuality, but the time has come and now there can be no other way. We both have been fitted with cyanide capsules, Mr. Hammer. I'm sorry to spoil your fun."

Once more, they looked at each other, both nodding almost imperceptibly, and there was a minute movement of the lines of their jaws.

I could see the death coming on, but they sure as hell weren't going to spoil my fun.

"Too bad," I said. "You still had another way out." I looked at the stubby revolver that was lying on the floor near their feet and very slowly I raised the .45 to my own temple. I pulled the trigger and there was only that flat, metallic click of the hammer snapping shut on nothing.