The two who’d been flanking from the right arrived on the other side of the quagmire. They ran toward Kingsley. Then the two on the left came in. The four of them stood close to Kingsley, and it appeared he was giving them instructions. One of them backed away and made a gesture of protest. Kingsley reached out, grabbed him and hit him in the face. Then Kingsley went on with the instructions. Another one started to argue and Kingsley clouted him in the ribs with the butt of his gun. There were no further arguments. The group stood there for another moment, then split up, going out fanwise toward the trees in the distance.

Corey watched them as they ran off. They merged with the darkness. Well they’re gone, he thought. And you’re alone here. And believe me, jim, this is one time when it’s nice to be alone.

He let out a heavy sigh. Then slowly he climbed up on top of the rock and rested flat, facedown. He said to himself, it’s velvet. It’s a chunk of jagged rock but I swear it’s velvet.

He closed his eyes. He smiled dimly, floating out with the waves of weariness, going out farther and farther.

All at once he opened his eyes, sat up and listened. Then he squinted in the direction of the gunfire. He saw tiny points of yellow light winking in the darkness. The gun flashes were a few hundred yards away. As the firing became more intense there were shouts and screams. Some were screams of panic and other screams were like the howling of animals getting eaten alive.

The exchange of gunfire was spreading over a wider area. Watching the gun flashes, he saw that a considerable number of pistols were in action. Nine or ten or eleven, he estimated. And you can tell from the noise they’re all 38s. And just listen to them screams.

Can you guess what’s actually happening? Well, not hardly. But there’s one thing you know for sure. You know that things don’t look too cozy right now for Delbert Kingsley and company.

But who’s the opposition? Would it be the blue boys from the 37th Precinct? No, it wouldn’t be them. They’re busy with more important assignments. They’re raiding penny-ante poker games and issuing tickets for parking violations. Them fearless law enforcers from the 37th, they’re out taking all kinds of chances and putting the pinch on each and every harmless vag and painted-up fag and liquored-up hag. They got all that to do. They can’t be bothered with a little fuss involving .38s.

So the question remains, who’s the opposition? You think it’s Grogan’s mob? Well, it could be. It very well could be. But on the other hand—