Frank....
Bud?
No. No, not Bud. He—
There was no one else. Bud. Her breath was fire. He would have to do something. Bud.
She hailed a cab.
"Bud!" she called as she opened the car door. "The Senate Office Building! Hurry!" Bud, she sobbed under her breath. He can do something to stop it.
Herb examined the gun carefully. He weighed it in his hand. It would do nicely. He pocketed it.
He would need only an instant. A taxi from here to the Senator's office. A trip in the elevator. Perhaps a slight wait: and then Senator Council framed in the doorway. He had—how long? Several hours, he told himself.
He touched the gun again. No hurry. No real hurry.