Surrounded

bunch of fools. I spent four years in Southeast Asia. Volunteered for it. You're dealing with a veteran, mister."
        "So are you," the stranger said. Then he laughed and said, "Listen, what's your number there?"
        "Why?"
        "Well… I might want to ring you up and surrender," the stranger said.
        Kluger did not answer at once, for he had to calm himself before he was able to speak. "You haven't got a chance now, smartass," he said at last.
        The stranger laughed again. "Oh, come on, Lieutenant. Give me your number, anyway."
        Kluger read it off to him. "It's a booth out here in the parking lot. I'll put a man beside it so I'll be sure to know when you call. If you have any brains at all-"
        The stranger cut him off.
        The line buzzed in his ear.
        Kluger turned and slammed the receiver down hard, and the sound cracked like a gunshot in the tiny enclosure. As he turned again and pushed through the folding door, a mosquito bit him on the back of the neck. Cursing, he slapped at it, caught it on his palm, and brought it around to have a look at it. The mosquito was extraordinarily big, red with the lieutenant's blood which it had been drinking. Although it was already dead, he worked it fiercely between his hands-until there was nothing but a brown smear left of it.
        
        In Oceanview Plaza's main lounge Michael Tucker pushed open his booth door and stepped out of the stench of French perfume. He went over to the fountain and dipped one hand into the pool, splashed his face with cool water. It felt good. It ran down his neck and soaked his shirt, and that felt good too. The water flushed away the clinging perfume and the bad odor that he imagined he had picked up from talking to Kluger.
        Refreshed, he started across the lounge again, toward the entrance to the east corridor, and was brought up short by a sudden, incredible idea. Somewhat numbed by the daring of the plan that had just occurred to him, he walked unhurriedly back to the fountain and sat down on the fake lavaform rocks at the edge of the pool. For some long minutes he stared into the falling water, thinking furiously. When he got up, he was grinning like a fool, though he knew he was most certainly not one. It just might work…
        Meyers and Bates were waiting for him by the gate at the end of the east corridor.
        "What was the call about?" Meyers asked.
        Bates said nothing. He was pale and even shakier than he had been earlier.
        "Wait here a minute," Tucker said. He stepped into the warehouse, smiled at Chet, Artie, and Evelyn Ledderson.
        "What's going on out there?" Chet demanded.
        "We're about to rob the bank," Tucker said. "Then we'll make our escape."
        "Not damned likely," Chet said.
        Artie said nothing, but the woman disagreed with Chet. She looked at Tucker and said, "He'll do it. He'll get away."
        Tucker winked at her.
        Although she met his gaze frankly and studied him with icy interest, she made no response.
        He searched for and found the panel of switches that controlled the mall lights. He was able to decipher the abbreviations beneath the toggles in fairly short order, and he doused two of the three overhead fluorescent strips in each of the mall's four main corridors. When he went back out and pulled the warehouse door shut behind him, he told Meyers and Bates why they were going to have to make do with minimal illumination. "This Kluger is too damned clever. And if he's able to keep watch on us, he'll soon decide there are only three of us. When he's sure of that, he might try to force his way through one of the entrances."
        "But we have hostages!" Bates said.
        "Kluger is the hard-nosed type," Tucker said, remembering the humorless man to whom he had spoken, the low voice like flint striking sparks on flint. "He doesn't give a damn who stands in his way."
        "Surely he wouldn't kill hostages," Bates said. "And one of them a woman!"
        "He'd try not to," Tucker said. "And if he accidentally did kill them, he'd still come out of it with another promotion. He's that type."
        "If he comes in here, he loses a lot of men," Meyers said, brandishing his Skorpion.
        "If he comes in here," Tucker corrected, "it won't matter. Because, my friends, we won't be here."
        Bates and Meyers stared at him uncomprehendingly, like a couple of