Zelazny, Roger - Novel 07 by Bridge of Ashes Page A

the court."
                   "Well, we had better do something,
quickly. The kid is screwed up enough as it is."
                   "Right. I will call them now and let you
know."
                   "I still think we ought to move out of
range and let it go at that."
                   Winchell gnawed his lip.
                   "Let's save that for last," he said.
                   I thought I had caught glimpses of him earlier
in the day, but I was not certain until late afternoon, when he came by the
reading room where I sat alone, turning pages. He parked the cart he had been
pushing, blocking the doorway with it, stepped in, gave a low whistle and
winked when I looked up.
                   "Quick!" I said. "What—?"
                   He raised a finger to his lips, turned and
fetched in a carton from the lower shelf of the carryall. He brought it over
and placed it on the opposite side of my chair, out of sight from the hall.
                   "No problem," he whispered.
"I've worked in these places before. My record is clean. Got in here
almost two weeks ago. How have they been treating you?"
                   "Observation and tests all month," I
said. "What are you up to?"
                   He stroked the side of his sharp nose and
smiled a yellow smile.
                   "We're getting you out of here, now. It's
all set up. I have the schedule down pat. The car is waiting."
                   "It's still daylight. Wouldn't it be
better if—"
                   "No. Trust me. I know where everyone
is."
                   I regarded his slight figure, his dark,
dancing eyes, pale hair, nimble fingers.
                   "You're shifty enough," I said.
"Okay. What do I do?"
                   "Get into the clothes in that bundle
while I go stand outside by my cart. If anyone comes, Til whistle and you start
taking them off again fast. I will come back inside with the box and you toss
them back into it. Okay?"
                   I nodded and began unbuttoning my shirt.
                   "No," he said. "Put them on
over your things. It's just an orderly uniform."
                   He moved back to the door.
                   "How is the shoulder?"
                   "Fine now. How are Jerry and Betty?"
                   "Well. You never got traced to
them."
                   He stood fooling with his cart, blocking the
door.
                   "Hey! There's a gun in here!"
                   "Sh! Stick it in your belt, under the
coat You never can tell."
                   I checked it. It was loaded. I stowed it. I
dressed.
                   "All right," I said.
                   "Come on out then. Help me push this
cart."
                   I stepped into the hall, got behind the cart
at his side nearest the wall. We began pushing.
                   "Where to?" I asked.
                   "Service elevator, through those doors at
the end. I have the key here."
                   We passed along the hall. He unlocked the
doors. No one in sight. He unlocked the elevator. We took the cart inside and
he pressed the button for the basement.
                   "I'll stand in front," he said.
"If anyone comes by, bend over the cart real quick."
                   "Right."
                   I listened to the hum, the occasional creaking
of the elevator about us. A wave of cool air passed from the left. I felt
myself in a kind of daze. It was difficult to believe things were happening
this quickly, with no advance warning. Just as well, too, probably. If I had
had time to think it over, I might not be moving this casually. I probably
would not have slept last night.