He reached over and picked up the cup and took a long drink of coffee, smiled into the phone, said: “Sure — I’m all right — I got a little scratch on my head but I’m all right... Sure... Sure — we were right... All right, Honey — I’ll be waiting for you. Hurry up... G’bye...”
He hung up, curved his mouth to a wide grin, finished his coffee, lit a cigarette and waited.
Pigeon Blood
The woman was bent far forward over the steering-wheel of the open roadster. Her eyes, narrowed to long black-fringed slits, moved regularly down and up, from the glistening road ahead, to the small rear-view mirror above the windshield. The two circles of white light in the mirror grew steadily larger. She pressed the throttle slowly, steadily downward; there was no sound but the roar of the wind and the deep purr of the powerful engine.
There was a sudden sharp crack; a little frosted circle appeared on the windshield. The woman pressed the throttle to the floor. She was pale; her eyes were suddenly large and dark and afraid, her lips were pressed tightly together. The tires screeched on the wet pavement as the car roared around a long, shallow curve. The headlights of the pursuing car grew larger.
The second and third shots were wild, or buried themselves harmlessly in the body of the car; the fourth struck the left rear tire and the car swerved crazily, skidded halfway across the road. Very suddenly there was bright yellow light right ahead, at the side of the road. The woman jammed on the brakes, jerked the wheel hard over; the tires slid, screamed raggedly over the gravel in front of the gas station, the car stopped. The other car went by at seventy-five miles an hour. One last shot thudded into the back of the seat beside the woman and then the other car had disappeared into the darkness.
Two men ran out of the gas station. Another man stood in the doorway. The woman was leaning back straight in the seat and her eyes were very wide; she was breathing hard, unevenly.
One of the men put his hand on her shoulder, asked: “Are you all right, lady?”
She nodded.
The other man asked: “Hold-ups?” He was a short, middle-aged man and his eyes were bright, interested.