Taking Madame Duval’s hand in hers, Gini began making further suggestions—anything that might buy her time. Perhaps a doctor should be called? Perhaps it was unwise for Madame Duval to venture outside on such a day, when it was beginning to rain, and bitterly cold… The suggestions bought her about thirty seconds. Star’s eyes never left her face once.

“You’re not French. You’re American, right?” He was reaching into his pocket. He took out a small container of pills.

“Oh, yes, I am.” Gini gave him a quick glance. “I didn’t realize—listen, she really doesn’t look too well. Her lips are blue, and—”

“Do you live in this building?”

He was taking one tiny pill from the container, his eyes still intent on her face. His voice, Gini thought, his odd, low, attractive yet unidentifiable voice was just as described.

“What? Oh, yes—I do.”

It seemed the safe answer. She could hardly claim to be visiting, yet recognize Madame Duval. Star seemed to accept the reply anyway.

“She has angina,” he said in even tones. “She’s eighty-five years old. She just needs one of these pills. She dissolves them under her tongue. They’re magic. In a couple of minutes she’ll be fine.”

He slipped the tiny pill between Madame Duval’s lips as he said this. She gave a sightless little smile of gratitude, her milky eyes turned to a space two feet to the side of him. Star straightened.

He said: “Show me your key.”

“I’m sorry?” Gini looked up at him. His face betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

“Your key. You live here, so I guess you have a key, right?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake…” Gini rose. “What is this? Of course I have a key. I live on the sixth floor. Look, I really think we should call a doctor…”

“I agree.” He smiled. “Let’s go right up to your apartment and call one now. I’ll come with you.”

Gini felt fear, and she knew her fear and her indecision showed in her face.

Then, he did not hesitate. He gave a small frown and put his hand in the pocket of his black suit.

“Oh, shit,” he said in a mild way. “The cards said to expect the unexpected. This morning. That’s what they said. I guess they were right.”

He spoke in a distant, unemotional tone. He gave a small sigh, then a shrug, and took out a gun. He lifted it with steady hands and an expression of slight irritation on his face. Gini looked at the gun, which was now pointing directly at her chest, from a range of three feet.

“Look, please…” she began. “I don’t understand. I just wanted to help Madame Duval…”

Star was not listening. He frowned.

“Can you drive?” he said.

Gini was trying to obey all the rules. Avoid eye contact; speak reasonably; do not show fear.

“Yes, I can drive, but—listen—”

She stopped. She realized she had just made a foolish admission and Star had noticed her reaction; he was extremely quick.