Absolutely, Positively

reeling off-balance once more. “Doorman knows I'm up here. He saw me get on the elevator. Knows Molly's here, too.”

    Cutter scowled furiously, clearly torn. “All right, answer it. But tell him you're going to bed and don't want any visitors. Got that?”

    “Sure thing. Headed for bed.”

    Harry stumbled toward the intercom. As he stretched out a hand to punch the button he gaged the distance to his target. Cutter was holding Molly directly in front of him. From this angle Harry knew that he could hit Cutter's shoulder. But that was not good enough. He needed a shot that would bring Latteridge down before he could fire the gun.

    “Yeah, Chris?”

    “Sorry to bother you at this hour, Mr. Trevelyan,” Chris said in portentous accents, “but there's a Detective Foster from the police department on his way up to see you. He says it's an emergency.”

    “Police.” Cutter, already disconcerted by the interruption, exploded with rage. “Goddamn you, Trevelyan. What's going on here? What have you done?”

    “Beats me,” Harry said as he turned away from the intercom. He smiled at Cutter. “Looks like we've got company from the police department. Now what do you suppose the police want at this hour? I wonder if I forgot to pay a parking ticket.”

    “Damn you.”

    “Don't think the old murder-suicide scenario's going to work tonight,” Harry said. “Be a little tough to explain to Detective Foster on your way out, eh?”

    Cutter's face worked. He abruptly released Molly, shoved her out of his path, and glanced wildly at the door. “I've got to get out of here.”

    “There are two elevators,” Harry volunteered helpfully. “With any luck you won't get into the same one Detective Foster is about to arrive in.”

    “Stay back.” Cutter swung the gun frantically between Molly and Harry and then concentrated on Harry. “Don't move. I mean it.”

    Harry raised his arms in a wide arc. “I'm not going anywhere.”

    “You son-of-a-bitch,” Cutter snarled. “This isn't over.”

    “You sound like my cousin Josh. Kid's got a similar flare for melodrama.”

    Cutter ignored him. He whirled and ran for the door.

    The blade slipped eagerly out from beneath Harry's sleeve. The hilt fit his hand perfectly. He waited for the right moment, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that it would come. It was as if he could read Cutter's mind before Cutter himself knew what he was going to do.

    There was no paranormal sense involved, just logic and observation. Cutter was in a panic. He was acting emotionally, not logically. Fury would overrule his common sense. He would be unable to resist taking vengeance for all that had gone wrong.

    Harry knew that Cutter would turn and try to kill him before he fled.

    Sure enough, Latteridge swung around as he wrenched open the door. Rage had screwed his face into a grotesque mask. “You've ruined everything, Trevelyan. Damn you.”

    He aimed the gun.

    Not at Harry. At Molly.

    In that instant, Harry was sure that he did go a little crazy.Too late .

    His reflexes took over. The knife left his hand as though it had a will of its own.

    It struck Cutter in the center of his chest. The impact jerked him back a step. A strange, uncomprehending expression replaced the rage in his eyes.

    He dropped the gun and clawed at the hilt of the knife. “But I planned it all so carefully,” he said hoarsely as he fell to his knees. “Nothing could go wrong this time.”

    Cutter sprawled facedown on the tile. He did not move.

    Harry pulled Molly close. She buried her face against his shoulder. She was crying when she said, “You saved us. You saved both our lives tonight.”

    This time he had not been too late.

    “You knew, didn't you? Before you came through the door, you knew he was here.”

    Harry tightened his grip on Molly as they watched the soft light of dawn wash away the last of the darkness outside the windows. The police had finally left a short while earlier. Latteridge's body had been removed. The blood on the hall tile was gone.

    Neither Molly nor Harry had felt much like going to bed.

    “I knew…” Harry hesitated, uncertain how to put it into words. “I felt that something was wrong.”

    “You sensed more than that. You realized that Latteridge was here.”

    “It was a logical deduction, given the fact that he was the only real source of danger we had encountered recently.”

    “Don't give me that logic stuff.” Molly turned in the circle