The By-Pass Control

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The guy was as good as dead and knew it. Crouched there on the floor he looked like a shapeless bundle and only a bloodied face with still-hard bright eyes marked him as a man. His breath came in short, sobbing gasps and he tried to keep his guts in with both hands pressed to his stomach. The knife he had used on me was still within reach in front of him, but he wasn’t thinking of making a try for it. All he could hope for was that I would bleed to death before he would, yet he knew that wouldn’t happen.

And I was on my feet with the cocked .45 in my fist grinning down at him.

I let my eyes leave his for an instant and drift to the partially closed door behind him where there were three dead men strapped to tables in a soundproofed room whose deaths had been horrible things because they wouldn’t talk easily and when they did, died anyway for the pleasure of a butcher.

Two were from a Washington agency. One was my project partner.

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