"How about a break, Mac?" the driver asked. "I could let you off at a bus stop or a subway or something. I could--" "You could keep on driving out to the expressway and keep going north on the expressway until I tell you different." But at that moment the cab braked slowly to a stop for a red light. On the far side of the street, on the curb, Jeanne-Marie spied a policeman. Watching the cab-driver's face, she knew he had seen the uniformed patrolman too. A muscle throbbed in his jaw and Jeanne-Marie knew suddenly he was going to try something. A word, she thought. One word between them could mean so much. Because if she could help him, if she could occupy Lucky's attention at the precise moment the cab driver tried to signal the policeman.... * * * * * But Lucky must have seen it too. He leaned forward and slashed the automatic across the driver's neck, barrel-first, the sights raking the flesh and leaving a twin track of blood. The driver shook his head from side to side, like a fighter who has taken too much punishment. He opened his mouth to yell but Lucky's arm went around his throat. "Don't," Lucky said. "I've killed a man already tonight. I can kill you too and it wouldn't make any difference. Just drive." There, thought Jeanne-Marie, it was out now. He had killed a man. He admitted it. All sham, all pretense was gone. The charming man of the world was now completely gone, replaced by the ruthless killer. The light changed to green--had been green for some time now. Horns blared behind them. The driver shifted gears and they began to drive again. Still standing on the corner, the policeman had seen nothing. * * * * * Three hours later, they were still driving. The city was behind them now. They had sped through the darkness and obscurity of the northern suburbs as night fell and now were in a rural area. The expressway rimming the city had become the state parkway going north, and some twenty minutes ago they had left the parkway behind them, traveling a two-lane black-top road. "Next left," Lucky told the frightened driver, and moments later the cab braked and turned up a dirt road hardly more than a trail. "Friend of mine used to own this place," Lucky explained as they stopped before a small log cabin. Actually log, Jeanne-Marie thought, only ninety-some miles from the city. It was totally unexpected. "Used to use it for a hunting lodge." He opened the door and held it that way for Jeanne-Marie, who climbed out of the cab. Then Lucky leaned in across the driver and removed the ignition key from the dash, pocketing it. "You get out of there, too," he said. "I thought I'd just be going now, mister." "That's very funny." "I thought--" "I said, get out."