The gun was meaningless now. Homer Crawford, his face agonized, was on his knees beside the other who was threshing on the floor. "Abe," he groaned. "You made me."
Abe Baker's face was quickly going ashen in his impossible quest for oxygen. For a last second there was a gleam in his eyes and his lips moved. Crawford bent down. He wasn't sure, but he thought that somehow the other found enough air to get out a last, "Crazy man."
When it was over, Homer Crawford stood again, and looked down at the body, his face expressionless.
From behind him a voice said, "So I got here too late."
Crawford turned. It was Elmer Allen, gun in hand.
Homer Crawford said dully, "What are you doing here?"
Elmer looked at the body, then back at his chief. "Bey figured out what must have happened at the mosque there in Timbuktu. We didn't know what might be motivating Abe, but we got here as quick as we could."
"He was a commie," Crawford said dully. "Evidently, the Party decided I stood in its way. Where are the others?"
"Scouring the town to find you."
Crawford said wearily, "Find the others and bring them here. We've got to get rid of poor Abe, there, and then I've got something to tell you."