It all seemed so unreal. Back there, on my haunches, a wrench gripped tight in my sweaty hand. I was going to kill a man. A man I knew, a man I respected. And for a woman. All for a woman. I thought about getting up and telling Diane to go to hell and to get herself another stooge. I thought about a lot of things. Then I thought of Diane. Her sweet white body. The way she sighed when I kissed her hard. And I knew I was going to go through with it. The racer stopped, its jets cut off. I heard the hum as the door opened and she got out. This was it. I sweated. It dripped down in an endless stream. The seconds went by. Then the minutes. They got in and the door hummed shut and I heard their laughter blending together. They settled back and the jets roared. The racer woke up to new life and it shot away. "How was the trip?" I heard Diane asking. "Cold. And I'm not sure it was worth it. Those Martians drive a hard bargain." He coughed. "Diane, you're not too set on going out tonight, are you?" "Why?" she asked. "I thought how nice it would be if we spent the evening at home." "Just as you say, Roger." "You don't care?" "Of course not." She was so calm, so damn calm. There would never be another like Diane. "You won't regret it," Roger promised. "My, but this boulevard is deserted," she said. "Not a soul in sight." That was for my benefit. It was my cue. I sat up silently. He saw me then in the rear-view mirror. "What the hell?" He started to turn. My arm sprang alive. The wrench thudded against his skull. A half cry spilled from his lips. Then his head fell forward on his chest. "Hit him again," Diane urged. "But--" "Do as I say." I hit him again, hard. It was done. I settled back. The wrench was still in my hand. I looked at it, then let it fall. "Are you all right?" Diane asked. "Yes," I said. "Why shouldn't I be?" "You're not going to be sick, are you?" "No! You think I'm a kid?" "You did it for an old woman." "Stop it." "Today is my birthday, don't you know? I'm thirty." "Shut up." "I wonder what he got for my birthday." "Please." "I'm sorry. Really I am. I feel like talking. If I don't I think I'd scream." So I let her talk. I didn't answer her. She babbled away like she was crazy. She kept it up till we got to their apartment. Diane got out first and made sure the way was clear. "We'll use the back stairs," she said when she got back. "We both can manage him." It was dark and it was late and we didn't see anybody. We went through the service entrance. It was too heavy a load for me to do it alone. Two flights up. Diane helped me with him. I breathed easier when we were in the marble hall outside the apartment. She quickly unlocked the heavy plastic door and we got him inside. She fumbled for the inner-lighting switch. "Happy birthday," they shouted. Now I knew why Roger had wanted to spend the evening at home. We stood there, Diane and myself, with Roger between us.