Kells muttered something that sounded like, “Wait — minute,” coughed.
Borg pried his hand off the banister, half dragged; half carried him the rest of the way downstairs.
It was raining very hard.
Kells straightened suddenly and pushed Borg away, said: “I’m all right.” Then he leaned against the building and coughed, and the cough was a harsh, tearing sound deep inside him. He stood there coughing terribly until Borg dragged him away, shoved him into the car that had come swiftly to the curb.
Granquist was at the wheel. She said, “Well — hero!” sarcastically, as if she had been wanting to say that, thinking about saying that for a long time.
Kells’ head sagged to her shoulder. There was blood on his mouth and his eyes were closed.
Borg climbed in behind him, closed the door. “Granquist threw her arms around Kells suddenly and pressed his head close against her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, stricken; her lower lip was caught between her teeth — she almost screamed: “Gerry — darling — for God’s sake, say something!”
Borg was looking back through the side window at the dark archway that led to the stairs.
He said: “Let’s get going.”
Kells raised his head and opened his eyes. He waved an arm in the general direction of the car across the street — the car they had followed from Larson’s.