A tiny gun, no larger than an ordinary cap pistol, had suddenly materialized in Giordino's hand, the pencil-thin muzzle pointed directly at the spot between Zacynthus' eyebrows. Even Pitt was caught off guard. Pure logic told him that Giordino had been bluffing; the last thing he or anyone else expected was for Giordino to produce an honest-to-God firearm.

15

15

A gun, no matter if it looks small and insignificant or massive and downright mean, is always a perfect attention getter. To say that Giordino was the center of attraction would be a classic understatement. He played the role to the hilt; the automatic held at full arm's length, a grim smile on the face. If Academy Awards were given for sheer bravado, he'd have won at least three.

For a long moment no one spoke. Then finally Zeno rammed a fist into one hand. A wan smile etched his swarthy face. "It was I who said you two men were cunning and dangerous, and yet I am foolish enough to keep offering you new opportunities to prove it."

"We don't relish these embarrassing little scenes any more than you do," Pitt said equably. "Now if you gentlemen will excuse us, we'll close up shop and go home."

"No sense getting shot in the back." Giordino waved the baby automatic negligently at the three narcotics officers. "We'd better borrow their guns before we exit stage right."

"That won't be necessary," Pitt said. "No one is going to pull any triggers." He looked into Zacythus' eyes, then into Zeno's—and found them thoughtful and speculative. "It's really a standoff. You're tempted, but you won't shoot us from behind because you're all honorable men. Besides, it wouldn't be practical, the investigation of our deaths would only prove to be a messy affair. Von Till would love that. On the other hand, you know damn well we won't shoot back because we don't have nearly enough at stake to kill any one of you.

"Patience, I ask nothing but patience on your parts for the next ten hours. I promise you, Zac, we will meet again before sunset, and on much friendlier terms." Pitt's voice seemed strangely prophetic, and the speculative look in Zacynthus' eyes changed to blank puzzlement.

Pitt was briefly tempted to prolong the game of cat and mouse, then he thought better of it. Zacynthus and Zeno appeared resigned to defeat, but not Darius. The huge brute moved two steps forward, his face was flushed with anger and his fists opened and closed like the shells of two giant South Pacific clams. It was clearly the time to beat a quick and orderly retreat.