the adjacent building. Did they know? He rammed his knee again and repeated. "Why?" "Prague believes Scofield thinks you have men in the streets... at the hotel doors. He'll wait until the police come... the confusion. He did something in the rooml In the name of God, stop!" Vasili smashed the handle of the Frenchman's gun into Marseilles' skull behind his left temple. The assassin collapsed, as the wound spat blood. Taleniekov propelled the unconscious body along the wall, letting it drop so that it fell across the intersecting corridor.
Whoever came out of room 13 would be greeted by another unexpected sight.
The panic would mount, precious minutes obtained.
The elevator on the left had responded to the Frenchman's call. Vasili raced inside and pressed the button for the third floor. The doors closed, as far down the hallway two excited men ran out of room 13. One was the hotel manager; he saw the fallen Frenchman in the center of a blood-soaked carpet. He screamed.
Scofield took off the jacket and the cap, bunching them in a corner, and put on his coat. The elevator stopped at the third floor; he tensed at the sight of a portly maid who walked in carrying towels over her arm.
She nodded; he stared at her. The doors closed and they proceeded to the fourth, where the maid got off. Bray reached over quickly and again pressed the button for the sixth floor; there were none above it.
If it were possible, one part of the insanity was going to be over withl He was not going to run away only to start running again, wondering where the next trap would be sprung. Taleniekov was in the hotel and that was all he had to know.
Room five-zero five. Taleniekov had given the number over the phone; he had said he would be waiting. Bray tried to think back, tried to recall a cipher or a code that matched the digits, but there were none he could remember, and he doubted the KGB man would pinpoint his location.
Five-Zero--Five.
Five-Death-Five?
I'm waiting for you on the fifth floor. One of us will die.
Was it as simple as that? Was Taleniekov reduced to a challenge? Was his ego so inflamed or his exhaustion so complete, that there was nothing left but speffing out the dueling ground?
For Chrises sake, lees get it over with! I'm coming, Taleniekov! You may be good, but you're no match for the man you call Beowulf Agate!
Ego. So necessary. So tiring.
The elevator reached the sixth floor. Bray held his breath as two well-dressed men entered. They were talking business, last-year's figures the bothersome topic. Both glanced briefly, disapprovingly at him; he understood. The beard, his bloodshot eyes. He clutched his attach6 case and avoided their looks. The door started to close and Bray stepped forward, his hand inside his jacket.
"Sorry," he muttered. "My floor." There was no one in the long corridor directly ahead, four stories above 11 and 13. Far down on the right were two doors with circular windows.
The service elevator. One panel had just swung shut; it still trembled.
Scofield pulled his automatic partially out of his belt, then held it in place when he heard the rattle of dishes beyond the swinging doors. A service tray was being taken away; a man concealing himself with intent to kill did not make noise.
Down on the left, toward the staircase, a cleaning woman had finished a room. She pulled the door shut and wearily began to roll her cart toward the next.
Five-zero-five.
Five-death-five.
If there was a meeting ground, he was above it, on the high ground. But it was a high ground from which he could not see and time was running out. He thought briefly of approaching the cleaning woman, using her as a point somehow, but his appearance ruled it out. His appearance ruled out a great many things; shaving had been a luxury he could not afford; relieving himself meant precious moments given up, away from the sounds of the trap.
The little things became so ominous, so all-important during the waiting.
And he was so tired.
Using the service elevator had to be ruled out; it was an enclosure too easily immobilized, isolated. The staircase was not much better, but he had an advantage; except for a roof-if there was an exit from the roof-it did not go higher. The sightlines favored the one above. Birds of prey swooped, they rarely attacked from below.
Sharks did, however.
Diversion. Any kind of diversion. Sharks were known to lunge up at