Myra helped him get the barrels into position and then she sat down limply on the stone floor. Quentin was too occupied to bother with her for the moment. He made certain that there was no other exit and then took up a position by the door. He could hear movements going on upstairs, and then a sudden clicking of heels. He heard Fuentes say, “Where are they?”
There was a murmured reply which Quentin could not hear, then Fuentes said: “We can pick them up later. Put two men at the head of the stairs. Tell them to shoot at sight.”
Quentin made a little face. “He’s got us there,” he said. “They can’t get in, but we can’t get out. We’ll have to wait until someone comes along and chases these guys away.”
Myra said: “If it wasn’t for me, this would never have happened.”
“Forget it. What’s the use of talking like that? If we get out of it, I’ve got a grand story to write. If we don’t, some other guy’s got the story—so what?”
“Your friend lost his life because of me.”
Quentin’s face hardened. “This ain’t the time for that kind of talk. It won’t get you anywhere. Bill was unlucky. If you hadn’t been here, you don’t think we would have let the General push Anita around as he did, do you?” He shook his head. “No, I guess we were mugs to come to this joint. We wanted to be in at the death, now it looks like we’re going to attend the wrong funeral.”
Myra sat limply, her hands folded in her lap and her long legs tucked under her. Morecombre’s death had shocked her badly.
He got to his feet and went over to the wine-bins. After careful scrutiny he selected a couple of bottles and drew the corks with the corkscrew on his knife. “Have you ever tried drinking a nice light wine from the bottle?” he asked her. “I want you to have some of this stuff. It’ll do you good.”
She hesitated, then took the bottle. The wine was strong and sweet. They were thirsty and they both drank deeply. He sat by the door again. “Not bad stuff, is it?” he said, feeling the wine surging through him. Potent stuff, he thought, and put the bottle down. It wouldn’t do to have a muddled head in his position.