Goldie slipped out.

Hinch had the motor running when Furia got in beside him. “Turn on the police band.”

Hinch turned it on. The air was full of directives and acknowledgments. The state police were setting up roadblocks throughout the area.

“Now what?” Goldie had her arms folded over her breasts. “Big shot?”

“You want I should shove your teeth down your throat, is that what you want?” Furia said. “I ought to let Hinch work you over.”

“Any time, pal,” Hinch said.

“Who asked you? I got to think.”

“What’s to think?” Hinch said. “We hole up in the hideout till the heat goes away, like we said. No sweat. Let’s drag, Fure.”

“If you had a brain you’d be a dope.” Furia had a roadmap of the area spread on his lap under the maplight. “To get there from here we got to cross this intersection. There’s no other road in. That’ll be one of their main checkpoints. We can’t make it tonight. We got to think of something else.”

“You’d better get rid of the gun,” Goldie said remotely. She was burrowed as far as she could get into the corner of the rear seat.

“Not till I get me another one.”

“You going to kill somebody else for one?”

“I told you!”

“Why didn’t you take the watchman’s gun?”

“Because it landed in some bushes when we jumped him. We couldn’t hang around looking for it in the dark. I’ll get one, don’t worry.”

“It’s a wonder you didn’t shoot him, too.”

“You’re asking for a rap in that big moosh of yours, Goldie. I’m telling you! When Howland sent this Taylor into town for coffee and we hit him on the road, he put up a fight and we had to cool him with a knock across the ear. We tied him up and threw him in some bushes. How many times I got to tell you?”