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of them were there for him anymore. After a while, he just sat smoking.
    He was on his fourth cigarette and the sun had disappeared once more when the shot exploded. A certain feeling settled and
     he watched himself jump out of his chair, knocking it over.
    Gun in hand, he burst into the bedroom.
    Mary Yung stood naked beside the bed, holding hernickel-plated revolver. Her face was flushed, moist, and without expression.
    Bentley was naked only from the waist down. His wrists were still cuffed to the bars of the brass headboard, and there was
     a small hole just off-center in his forehead. A fine trickle of blood ran down his face and dripped from his chin. Supported
     by the spread of his arms, his head drooped only slightly.
    Gianni took a deep breath. “What happened?”
    “It was all so stupid. I got careless and he got his legs around my neck and was choking me. I had no choice.”
    Gianni Garetsky just looked at her. The only thing he felt clear about was that she was lying.
    Mary Yung bent to pick up her clothes. Her bottom glistened. Then moving quickly, she dressed herself where she stood.
    “Let’s get out of here,” she said.
    She went straight for the Napoleon and said nothing until she had swallowed a fair amount.
    “Here’s what we’ve got,” she finally said. “The FBI part is real. Though not officially. Bentley called it a code-three operation.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Nothing in writing or on wire. And at their level they never know where the orders come from. It could be CIA, State, Justice,
     or even the Oval Office. But it’s always from very high up, and always top priority.”
    “All this to pick up a small-time hood?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did they know a reason for the hunt?”
    “Not a whisper.”
    “What were their orders on us?”
    “Do anything to get answers. But no killing.”
    “Terrific. That’s everything he told you?”
    She nodded.
    “You think it was the truth?”
    “Pretty much.”
    “Then why did you kill him?”
    “I told you.”
    “I know what you told me,” said Gianni.
    Mary Yung looked at him over her brandy. “Why would I lie to you?”
    “That’s what I have to find out.” The artist lit a cigarette. “We’re way over our heads, Mary Yung. Between us, we’ve wasted
     what now seems to be five feds in three days. We were under the gun for four, so it’s only this last one that bugs me. You
     made a deal with the guy. He was handcuffed to the bed. Why did you shoot him?”
    This time Mary Yung didn’t even bother explaining. Her words seemed to be stuck inside her head.
    “We’ve got only each other in this,” said Gianni. “But if I can’t trust you, I’m walking out of here this minute. Is that
     what you want?”
    “No.”
    “Then I want to know why you lied to me.”
    “Because I was afraid to tell you the truth.”
    “And what’s the truth?”
    She needed a moment to collect the words. “I didn’t want him around to tell about my shooting the others. This way I can at
     least get rid of the bodies. Like you did with your two. Then all they can do is suspect.”
    “You had it planned when you went in there with him?”
    “Yes.”
    “Why did you keep it from me?”
    “Because I had the feeling you wouldn’t be happy about it.”
    “And
you’re
dancing with joy?”
    “I do what I have to do, Gianni.” Her voice was so low her teeth and gums seemed to be in it.
    Gianni was silent. But there was something bad in his face that got through to her.
    “I’m sorry if I disgust you,” she said.
    “I’m not that holy. I just don’t understand you.”
    “How can you understand me? You don’t even know me.”
    At least that much is true,
he thought.
    “All you know,” she said, “is what you read in that dumb computer printout. And that was nothing but a pack of lies I made
     up for my press releases.”
    “Then tell me the truth.”
    She shook her head. “I’m afraid you’d leave me flat.”
    “Try me.”
    “I can’t