Marc jumped as he heard the green sedan start up. He turned to see a black limousine, driven by the congressman, pull up beside it. The thug crossed and got inside and a moment later the barrel of a gun caught light from the window. Time was seeping out.
Ducking from cover, Marc raced for the coupe and the waiting woman on the corner. Reaching it, he threw the door open and jumped inside. The woman, a faded blonde, pressed back against the seat with a startled cry. Marc, however, was too relieved at finding the key in the ignition to notice.
He started the car, threw it into gear and set it in motion almost in a single action. The woman's reaction to this was a shrill, braying scream.
"Please," Marc said distractedly. "Don't." The woman screamed again. "Do you have to do that?" he asked annoyedly.
"I have to do something, don't I?" the woman enquired wretchedly. "I can't just sit here, can I?"
"I don't see why not," Marc said, peering down the street intently. "It doesn't help anything to scream like that."
"It helps me plenty," the woman retorted hotly. "When naked men come leaping into a lady's car and driving her off to God knows what, it gives her a great satisfaction to scream." As though to prove her point she paused to scream again. "Anyway, it makes her feel a hell of a lot better."
"I don't see why," Marc said with rising irritation.
"Well, put yourself in my place," the woman snapped. "What would you do if a naked man came leaping into your car?"
"Naked men don't leap into my car." Marc said self-righteously. "I wouldn't let them."