“It’s all right,” he whispered to her. “He won’t hurt you.”

She didn’t answer.

They found the right door at last and Ron unlocked it. The lights in the room went on by themselves as the door swung open. Sylvia walked in slowly and looked all around the room. Then she placed Ron’s package carefully on the bench that stood at the foot of the bed.

Ron closed the door and clicked the safety latch. Turning, he saw that the room had one big bed, one night table next to it, and a long piece of low-slung furniture with some drawers in it. There was one window that you couldn’t see out of, it was so grimy, one mirror above the bureau, and a wall TV screen next to it. No chairs. The only place to sit was on the bed.

It looked seedy, used. Not exactly dirty, but worn out. The room even smelled funny.

“It’s not much for fifty dollars,” Ron muttered to himself.

Sylvia came over to him. “Ron—you were so brave out there, against Dino. So good and strong . . .”

She slid her arms around his neck. For a flash of a second, Ron felt as if he wanted to run away. But then his arms curled around her and he was kissing her and he forgot about everything else.

Ron woke up slowly. For a groggy moment he didn’t know where he was. Then he remembered—the hotel, New York, Sylvia.

He sat up in the bed. She was gone!

“Sylvia?” he called out.

No answer.

He padded barefoot to the tiny bathroom. The door was open and the room was dark. Nobody there.

She’s gone.

Glancing toward the window, Ron could see that it was still dark outside. His wristwatch said two o’clock.

She must have gone back to her own place. But where does she live? Why did she leave without telling me?

He looked all around the room for a note, but there was nothing. Then he remembered Dino, and he started to worry.

Maybe she left just a few minutes ago. Maybe I can catch her out on the street. She shouldn’t be out alone with that nut around.

He pulled his clothes on quickly and dashed out of the room. Down on the elevator, wishing it would go faster. Out through the empty lobby. Out onto the street.

Something hit him thunk! behind the ear and he went sailing slow-motion through the air. No pain, not yet. He just saw the pavement tilting sideways and rushing up closer, closer—and then he hit the cement, face and hands together. He could feel skin scraping off.

“Wha . . .”

A pair of filthy bare feet stepped in front of his eyes. Ron tried to prop himself up on one arm but somebody kicked the arm out from under him and he cracked down on the sidewalk again. He could feel his head throbbing now, and his face and hands felt raw.