"So the big chief--and his next victim--are probably in the Eastbay. If another murder is to be forestalled, I wonder if we ought to spend time here chatting with a lot of well intentioned policemen who will first have to be convinced the Michaelises are innocent and this wasn't a simple stick-up. Especially when the papers will tell the big chief exactly what's happened. Or, even if they can be made to keep quiet, Jimmy will fail to report in; the gang will try to check for him in the San Francisco pokey, first of all; so we could do some trail-covering of our own." "You mean to take this character to Berkeley, then? Isn't that pretty irregular? You don't want to jeopardize your license." "It's as irregular as a German verb, and the police are going to be annoyed. But I do think we can flange up enough excuses to get by with it. Of course, the Berkeley force will call up the San Francisco force immediately, but that'll go on a higher level, chief to chief I imagine; we can explain the need for secrecy, as much secrecy as the law allows, and--Hell, Bob, let's stop mincing words. What we need is time to construct a story that'll cover Guido. And you." Kintyre felt how the stone-rigid body he held began to come alive again. "Blessings," he murmured. "We'll go to your place first, and then decide what's next." "Can you finagle Jimmy across the bridge?" "Him and Guido both," grinned Yamamura. "Which will leave you a clear field when you take the lady home." "I'm coming," said Corinna. She pulled herself away from Kintyre, gently. "You are not," he answered. Seeing in the dirty gray half-light how her face grew mutinous, he went on: "There are enough complications already. What could you do over there, except be one more element we have to explain away--or one more target for the gang? At present, only Jimmy knows you have any concern with this business, and he'll get no chance to talk of it." She thought on his words for a little. Then: "Yes. You're right. But don't drive me all the way. A taxi will--" "Shut up!" he laughed, shakily, and took her arm. They had to wait, guarding a half-conscious prisoner, while Yamamura went after his car. Guido sat on the pavement, knees drawn up under his chin. After a while he took out a cigarette and lit it. Corinna leaned over him. "Go with them," she said. "They're the only real friends you've got." "Besides you, sis," he muttered. Then, barking a sort of laugh: "Next week, East Lynne." She sighed, like an old woman, and stood back again. Yamamura returned and bound Jimmy's wrists with Jimmy's tie. He and Kintyre frogmarched their captive to the Volkswagen and put him in back on the floor. Yamamura secured his ankles with his belt. "Toss me your house key, Bob, I'll see you there. Hop in, Guido. Cheerio." Kintyre and Corinna walked hand in hand back toward his own car. They stopped to pick up her shoes. "I'm afraid you ruined your stockings," he said inanely.