Herb heard a gun clatter to the floor.
"Don't," the Oligarch moaned. "I've thrown it away. I'm helpless."
Herb balanced on the balls of his feet. Then, taking a deep breath, he stepped into the doorway, his body framed beautifully between the two jambs. He held his gun at ready and then lowered it.
The Oligarch was slumped over his desk.
Herb heard Norma come up behind him.
"He's dying," she said.
Reaction set in, and Herb's knees almost collapsed. His body was trembling and drenched with perspiration.
The Oligarch coughed.
The Oligarch said something in his own language.