He began to move down the street with her, taking long, shambling, unsteady steps.
As he didn’t say anything, she went on, “A girl’s gotta look out for herself. It’s a tough life, darlin’. You’re goin’ to give me a nice present?”
Still he didn’t say anything. Her voice, her scent and her walk all infuriated him, but she was one of Mendetta’s possessions. He mustn’t say or do anything that would frighten her until he got her where she couldn’t get away. As he didn’t trust himself, he kept silent.
He was conscious that she was looking at him closely, and that her step lagged a little. He put his hand on her arm and hurried her along. “Where is it?” he said.
“Here,” she said a little breathlessly. “Let me get my key.”
He stood back while she searched in her cheap little bag. They were directly under the street light. He could see her brass−coloured hair, her wide rouged mouth, her short nose and her hard, professional eyes. She only came to his shoulder, and under her tight bottle−green dress he could see the outline of her small, firm breasts.
He said harshly, “For God’s sake hurry.”
She giggled nervously. “I’m hurrying.”
He could have spat in her face. She turned and smiled at him. “There’s a hole in the lining, I guess,” she said.
At the corner of the street, a cop suddenly appeared. Raven saw him instantly. The inside of his mouth went very dry, and he said once again, “Hurry.”