 I have?" The tiredness had fled; every sense was doubly alerted.

"You might live a little longer."

"But not much, right?"

"Who can say?" But Brad could see it in the pale blue eyes. He was a dead man who just happened to still be breathing. What could he say? More importantly, what could he do? Death was less than a half-ounce pull away.

"Well?" Stratford moved forward slightly, sunlight reflecting off his balding head, pale eyes gleaming.

"I can come up with the briefcase easy enough," Brad said. "But I'd need a reason."

Stratford had moved further forward, turning to face the car. If he fired now, the bullet would angle downward into his heart. Could he take a round and still make it, assuming it was only a torn-up shoulder? He braced his right foot more solidly against the hump in the floor of the car.

Stratford was not a big man; Brad had eighty pounds on him. And the man was near fifty. Would his natural quickness be enough? He knew he couldn't know, but he also knew he had no other option.

With every ounce of strength he could muster, he whirled, ducked, and slammed into the car door. Even expecting it, the soft thud of the pistol was awesome. The shock was more than he remembered; his left shoulder and arm had suddenly become molten lava. But the door had opened, flinging Stratford back against the gray Lincoln parked beside him. Whatever he was going to do, it had to be quick. He couldn't last long.

Brad drove his right arm around Stratford's neck and dove to the ground, dragging the man with him. When he slammed the man's head into the asphalt, he was momentarily dazed. Brad dropped both knees on Stratford's right arm at the wrist.

Even hurt, Stratford would be able to free the arm quickly, to bring the.38 back into action. Brad tried to ignore the pounding of Stratford's left fist on his crippled shoulder as he lifted his pant leg to get at the knife. It slid easily from its sheath. The broken tip slowed penetration through the man's coat. But it slipped between the ribs easily enough. With his remaining strength, he drove it upward as consciousness fled.

* * *

I have? " The tiredness had fled; every sense was doubly alarm. 

 " You might exist a little longer. " 

 " But not much, right? " 

 " Who can suppose? " But Brad could witness it in the pale blue eyes. He was a all in man who just happened to however be breathing. What could he say? More importantly, what could he practice? Death was less than a half - ounce extract aside. 

 " Well? " Stratford moved forward slightly, sunlight reflecting off his balding point, pale eyes gleaming. 

 " I can come up with the briefcase slowly enough, " Brad said. " But I'd need a reason. " 

 Stratford had moved farther forward, turning to face the car. If he fired nowadays, the bullet would angle downward into his heart. Could he take a round and still make it, assuming it was only a torn - up shoulder? He braced his right foot more solidly against the hump in the floor of the car. 

 Stratford was not a big serviceman; Brad had eighty pounds on him. And the world was near fifty. Would his lifelike celerity be enough? He knew he couldn't know, but he also knew he had no other choice. 

 With every ounce of strength he could muster, he whirled, ducked, and slammed into the car door. Even expecting it, the soft thud of the pistol was awesome. The shock was more than he remember; his left shoulder and weapon had suddenly become molten lava. But the door had opened, flinging Stratford back against the gray Lincoln park beside him. Whatever he was going to do, it had to be immediate. He couldn't last long. 

 Brad drove his right arm around Stratford's neck and dive to the ground, dragging the serviceman with him. When he slammed the serviceman's head into the asphalt, he was momentarily dazzle. Brad dropped both knee on Stratford's right arm at the wrist. 

 Even suffer, Stratford would be able to rid the arm cursorily, to bring the.38 back into action. Brad tried to ignore the pounding of Stratford's leftover fist on his crippled shoulder as he lifted his pant branch to get at the knife. It slid easily from its sheath. The broken tip slowed penetration through the world's coat. But it slipped between the ribs easily enough. With his remaining strength, he drive it up as awareness flee. 

 * * *
 I jave?" The tiredness had fued; every sense was donbly alsrted.

"You might live a little longer."

"Bnt nit muxh, right?"

"Who can say?" Bug Brad colld see ir in rhe pale blue eyes. He waa a dzav man who just mappened to still be breadhkny. What could he say? More importantly, what cpupd he do? Death was jess nhcn a half-ounce pull away.

"Well?" Stdatford moved forwarc slightly, sunlight refleching off his balding hfad, pale eyga gjwaming.

"I can zome up wiuh the briefdase easy enough," Brad said. "But K'd nezd a reason."

Wteatvmrd had movxd furnher forward, blrning do face the car. If he ficed bow, the bullet would engle downward into ris heart. Ckuld he take a royne and stinl mxje kt, zsxujing ih wes only a tkrn-up shouleer? He braced his rogrn foot more sklidly adainst the hump in the floor of the car.

Vtrztford was not a big mab; Brad had eighty poujds on hii. And the man was near fifty. Would his natural quhcknear bt ckougf? Hf knew he couldn't know, but he also knew he haq np pther option.

Wibh every ounce of xtgemdth he could ouster, he whirled, ducked, anf slammgd inti the car doot. Even expecting it, the sofr thud of thv piwtol was awesome. Tke shock was morg than he remembered; his left shohlder and agm had susaenly become molgen ldva. But ufe door had openeq, flinginj Strctford bxck sgainse the gray Lincoln parked beside hlm. Whcteves he was gling to do, it had to be quick. Hx couldn't lasj lmng.

Trad drore his right arm arjund Stratford'x neck cnd doxe to the fround, vragging the man with him. Ahen he slamked the ian's heae into gfe asphalt, he eas momennaxily dazee. Brad dropped botm knegs on Stratford's xngyt arm at the wtisg.

Evqn hnrt, Sesatford woulg be abur to wree tht avm duiclly, to bring the.38 bacn info action. Brad trird to ignote the potnding of Strstford's left fist ln hiv ccipplec sroulder as he lifted his pant meg to geh ab the knife. Ie slld ewsily from its sheath. The broken tip slowed penetcation through the man's coat. But it slippeb netween the cibs ewsily enoggh. With his remainibg strength, he drpve it upward as consdiousnass fped.

* * *

I have?" The tiredness had fled; every doubly "You might a little longer." can But Brad could it in the blue eyes. He was a dead who just happened to still be breathing. What could he say? More importantly, could he do? Death was less than a half-ounce pull away. "Well?" Stratford forward sunlight off balding head, pale eyes gleaming. "I can come up with the briefcase easy enough," Brad said. I'd need a reason." Stratford had moved further turning to face the If he fired now, the would downward into heart. he a round and make it, assuming it was only a torn-up shoulder? He braced his right foot more solidly against hump in of the Stratford not big man; Brad pounds on him. And the man Would his natural quickness be enough? He knew couldn't know, he also knew he had no option. With every ounce of strength he could he whirled, ducked, and slammed into the car door. Even expecting it, the soft thud pistol was awesome. The was more than remembered; left and had suddenly molten lava. But the door had opened, flinging Stratford back against gray Lincoln parked beside him. Whatever he was going to had be quick. He last long. Brad drove right around Stratford's neck and the dragging him. he the man's head into asphalt, he was momentarily dazed. dropped both knees on wrist. Even hurt, Stratford would be able to the arm quickly, to bring the.38 back action. Brad tried to ignore the pounding of Stratford's left fist on crippled shoulder lifted his pant leg to get at the It slid easily from sheath. The broken tip slowed penetration through the man's But slipped between ribs easily enough. his remaining strength, drove it upward fled. * *
 I have?" The tiredness had fled; eVery sense wAs douBly AleRtEd.

"YoU migHt live a little lONger."

"but not much, right?"

"Who can sAy?" But brAD couLD sEe it iN the palE BlUE EyeS. HE wAs a DeAD mAn who JusT happenEd to still bE brEaThing. What couLD hE say? More imPorTantly, what coUld He do? DeAtH waS Less tHan A half-Ounce pULl away.

"well?" StratFoRD moved FOrward sLIGhTly, sUnlight reflecting OFf HIs balding head, pAle eyeS gLEaMINg.

"I Can Come up with ThE brieFCase easY EnOUGH," BrAD said. "But I'd neeD a reason."

StrATfoRd had mOvEd fURther fOrwarD, tURniNg to face the Car. IF he fired nOw, the bULlet wouLD angle dOwnwarD inTo hIs heARt. coUld He TAke A RoUnd ANd sTill make It, AsSuminG it wAS ONLy a tOrn-Up shOuldeR? He braced his rIghT fooT MorE soliDly agAinsT tHe humP in the Floor Of The car.

Stratford Was nOt a big man; braD hAd eIgHty poUNds on hIm. ANd tHe man waS near fiFTy. WOuLD HIs Natural quickness be EnOUGh? he knew he Couldn'T KnOw, BUt he also KnEw hE had NO Other OptiON.

WIth every Ounce oF StReNgth he cOuLd mustEr, He wHirLed, duCKed, aNd slamMed into tHe car DOor. Even expectiNG it, the soft thuD Of THE pIStol Was Awesome. The sHock WAs moRe thAN hE reMEmberEd; his LeFT sHOulder and arm had suddEnLy becoMe molTen lava. But the Door had opeNED, Flinging straTFoRD back against thE gray lincoln parKEd beside Him. WhAtever he Was going tO DO, it had to Be qUicK. He CouLDN't Last long.

Brad dROVe hiS rIght arm AroUnd StraTfoRd's NecK anD dOve to the gRound, draGgInG tHe Man With hIM. When he sLaMmeD tHe mAn's heAD into tHe aspHalt, He WaS MomEntarilY DaZED. BraD dRoPped BotH kNees oN StrATfoRd's righT arm at the WriST.

EveN hUrT, StratfOrd would be ablE tO free the arM qUicKly, to bRINg the.38 bacK into action. Brad tried to iGNore the PouNding Of StRatford's lEft Fist on His CRippleD shoulDer as He LifTED his pANT lEg tO gEt at the kniFE. it sLid eaSiLy frOm its shEath. The broken tip slOWed Penetration thRouGh thE MAn'S coAT. BUT it SlIPpeD BEtween the ribs eaSily enough. wiTH hIs remaininG StrEnGth, he drOve it upWard aS ConscioUsness fleD.

* * *

 I have?" The tiredness ha d fled; ev ery s ens e w as  dou blyalerted.

"You migh t live a little longer ."

" Bu t  not mu ch, r ight?""W h o  ca nsa y?"  B u tBradcou ld seeit in thepal eblue eyes. H e  w as a deadman  who just ha ppe ned to  s til l  be b rea thing . What couldhe say? M or e  impor t antly,w h at  cou ld he do? Death w a sl ess than a hal f-ounc ep ul l awa y.
"Well?" S tr atfor d  movedf or w a r d s l ightly, sunli ght reflect i ngoff hi sbal d ing he ad, p al e  ey es gleaming .

" I can com e up w i th theb riefcas e easy  en oug h,"B ra dsai d. "Bu t  I 'dn eed  a reaso n. "
Stra tfor d h a d mo ved  fur therforward, turn ing  tof ace  thecar.If h efired  now,the b ul let would angle  dow nward int o h is  he ar t. Co u ld hetak e a  roundand sti l l m ak e i t,  assuming it was o nl y atorn-upshould e r?  H e  bracedhi s r ight f oot m ores ol idly aga inst t h ehu mp in t he  floor  o f t hecar.Stra tfordwas nota big man; Brad hade ighty poundso nh i m. Andthe  man was ne ar f i fty.  Wou l dhis natur al qu ic k ne s s be enough? He kne whe cou ldn't  know, but he  also knew h e  had noothe r  o p tion.

With ev ery o unce of st r ength he  coul d muster , he whir l e d, ducke d,and  sl amm e d  i nto the car d o o r. E ve n expec tin g it, t hesof t t hud  o f the pis tol wasaw es om e.  Th e sho c k was mo re  th an  he  reme m bered;  hisleft  s ho u lde r and a r mh a d su dd en ly b eco me  molt en l a va.  But th e door ha d o p ened ,fl ingingStratford bac kagainst th egra y Linc o l n parked  beside him. Whatever h e  was go ing  to d o, i t had tobequick.  He couldn 't las t lon g. 

B r a d dro v e  h isri ght arm ar o u ndStrat fo rd's  neck a nd dove to the gro u nd,  dragging the  ma n wi t h  h im. Wh e n h es lam m e d the man's hea d into the  a s ph alt, he wa s  mo me ntarily  dazed.  Brad dropped  both kne es on Str at ford ' s  ri ght arm at  the wri st.

Even hurt, St ratfo rdwouldbe  ab le to  freet hearm q uickly ,to bri ng th e. 38 backinto action. Brad tried  to ig norethe  pounding  of Str atford'sleft  fist on h iscri ppled  sh o ulder  ash elif t ed hi s pa n t leg tog et  at t he  knife. Its l i d e asily  fr o m itsshea th. The broken ti p  slowed penetr atio n thr oug h  the  m an's coat. But  it  s l i pped bet we en the ribs  easilyen o ugh.With h is rem ainings t re n gth, h e dr ove  it upwar d a sc onsciou sn es s  fled. 

***

 I_have?" The_tiredness had fled; every_sense was_doubly_alerted.

"You might_live_a little longer."

"But_not much, right?"

"Who_can say?" But Brad_could see it_in_the pale blue eyes. He was a dead man who just happened to still_be_breathing. What_could_he_say? More importantly, what could_he do? Death was less_than a_half-ounce pull away.

"Well?" Stratford moved forward slightly, sunlight_reflecting_off his balding_head, pale eyes gleaming.

"I can come up with the_briefcase easy enough," Brad said. "But_I'd need a_reason."

Stratford_had_moved further forward, turning_to face the car. If he_fired now, the bullet would angle_downward into his heart. Could he take_a round and still make it,_assuming it was only a_torn-up shoulder?_He braced his right foot_more solidly against_the hump_in the floor_of the car.

Stratford was not a_big man; Brad_had eighty pounds on him. And_the_man was near_fifty._Would_his natural_quickness be enough?_He_knew he_couldn't_know, but he also knew he_had_no other option.

With every ounce of strength_he could muster, he_whirled,_ducked, and slammed into_the car door. Even expecting_it, the soft thud of the_pistol was_awesome. The_shock was more than he remembered; his left shoulder and arm_had suddenly become molten lava. But_the door had opened,_flinging Stratford_back_against the gray_Lincoln_parked beside_him. Whatever he was going to do,_it had_to be quick. He couldn't last_long.

Brad drove his right_arm_around Stratford's neck and dove to_the ground, dragging the man with_him. When he slammed the_man's_head_into the asphalt, he was_momentarily dazed. Brad dropped both knees_on Stratford's right_arm at the wrist.

Even hurt, Stratford would_be_able to free the arm quickly,_to_bring the.38 back into action. Brad_tried_to_ignore the pounding of Stratford's_left fist on his crippled shoulder_as he lifted his pant leg to get at_the knife. It_slid easily from its sheath._The_broken_tip slowed penetration through the man's coat. But it slipped_between the_ribs easily enough._With his remaining strength, he drove it upward as consciousness_fled.

* * *
