“Oh, but I did.” Pitt smiled and appeared to relax. “He’s sitting in a car about half a mile away, with two deputies hanging on our every word.”

Raferty tensed. “Damn you, you’re lying!”

“He taped a transmitter to my chest,” Pitt said, his left hand loosening the top button of his shirt. “Right here, under my-“

Maxine had dipped the rifle no more than a fraction of an inch as Pitt launched himself sideways and pulled the trigger of the Colt automatic he held under the folds of his jacket.

The Winchester and the Colt seemed to explode at the same instant.

Al Giordino and Abe Steiger had arrived minutes before Pitt and taken up a prone position beneath a stand of blue-spruce trees. Through field glasses Steiger observed Maxine hanging out the wash. “Any sign of the husband?” asked Giordino.

“Must be in the house.” The glasses angled slightly in Steiger’s hands. “Pitt is approaching her now.”

“That Colt forty-five must stick out like a third arm.”

“He’s got his Windbreaker draped over it.” Steiger bent a branch out of the way to clear his field of vision. “Pitt’s going inside the house now.”

“Time to move closer,” said Giordino. He was in the act of raising up on his knees when Steiger’s trunklike arm pinned him back down.

“Hold it! The old broad is hanging back to see if he was followed.”

They stayed quiet and motionless for several minutes while Maxine walked around the yard, her eyes probing the surrounding trees. She took a final look up the road and lumbered around a corner of the house and out of Steiger’s view.

“Give me time to make my way around back before you move on the front door,” said Steiger.

Giordino nodded. “Watch out for bears.”

Steiger threw him a tight grin and slipped off into a small ravine. He was still a good fifty yards short of his goal when he heard the shots.

Giordino had been marking time when the roar echoed through the windows of the house. He leaped to his feet and sprinted down a small hill, hurdling a lean-to fence into the yard. At that moment, Maxine Raferty burst backward through the front door like an out-of-control Patton tank, tumbled down the porch steps, and crashed to the ground.

No Return Ticket I 173

Giordino halted in his tracks, surprised by the sight of her bloodstained dress. He stood rooted as the elderly woman scrambled back to her feet as agilely as a gymnast. Not until it was too late did Giordino notice what looked like a battered rifle clutched in her hand.

Maxine, ready to charge back in the house, spotted Giordino standing dumbly in the yard. She gripped the Winchester awkwardly, with one hand under the breech, the other over the barrel, and snapped off a shot from the hip.