Meanwhile, a lanky figure had emerged warily from the warehouse and was lurking, in a twitchy sort of way, in the dimness of the alley. Obscured in shadow, Marc had watched Toffee get into the green sedan, the thug instructing her in the art of driving. He glanced anxiously down the street, praying for a police car. A small coupe, with a man and woman inside, pulled up to the curb at the end of the block, and the man got out and disappeared into the telegraph office on the corner. But that was all. Marc jumped as he heard the green sedan start up. He turned to see a black limousine, driven by the congressman, pull up beside it. The thug crossed and got inside and a moment later the barrel of a gun caught light from the window. Time was seeping out. Ducking from cover, Marc raced for the coupe and the waiting woman on the corner. Reaching it, he threw the door open and jumped inside. The woman, a faded blonde, pressed back against the seat with a startled cry. Marc, however, was too relieved at finding the key in the ignition to notice. He started the car, threw it into gear and set it in motion almost in a single action. The woman's reaction to this was a shrill, braying scream. "Please," Marc said distractedly. "Don't." The woman screamed again. "Do you have to do that?" he asked annoyedly. "I have to do something, don't I?" the woman enquired wretchedly. "I can't just sit here, can I?" "I don't see why not," Marc said, peering down the street intently. "It doesn't help anything to scream like that." "It helps me plenty," the woman retorted hotly. "When naked men come leaping into a lady's car and driving her off to God knows what, it gives her a great satisfaction to scream." As though to prove her point she paused to scream again. "Anyway, it makes her feel a hell of a lot better." "I don't see why," Marc said with rising irritation. "Well, put yourself in my place," the woman snapped. "What would you do if a naked man came leaping into your car?" "Naked men don't leap into my car." Marc said self-righteously. "I wouldn't let them." "Are you suggesting that I invite naked men to come leaping into my car?" the woman asked frigidly. "I'll have you know...." "The way you carry on about it," Marc said, "one just automatically draws his own conclusions. One pictures a whole procession of naked men just waiting their turn to leap into your car, you're such an authority on these occasions." * * * * * For a moment the blonde fell into a sulky silence. She glanced out the window at the rapidly passing scenery. "What I want to know," she said at length, "is what is my husband going to say." "Not knowing your husband," Marc said, "I'm in no position to guess. If I were you I'd judge by the way he's expressed himself on other similar occasions." "There you go again," the woman said, "insulting me. Where are you taking me?"