Stardust(193)

But it was Dieter who suddenly paused, hearing a noise, indistinct, behind him. Ben could see his feet move back to the partition door. “Hello?” No answer. Dieter waited another minute to be sure, then moved back toward the map. “So is it fire?” he said to the rafters.

Ben went still, watching the blood run along the floor, a thin line, but moving.

“We don’t have time. With the barn door open,” he said, a forced joviality. “Before the horses get out.” Another pause. “So.”

Ben saw his feet turn back to the nightclub and the equipment piles, stepping carefully, still listening. The blood seemed to be following him, almost at the edge of the trestles now. Leave. Even a fire would give him a chance. Dieter couldn’t disable the sprinklers. Unless the heat didn’t reach them in time, high up, designed to save the building, not someone trapped in it.

Dieter turned, taking a last look around the stage, and stopped. He began walking back slowly, coming directly toward Ben, shoes getting closer, not stopping until they were at the trestles. Close to the blood, but not yet touching it. Ben waited. Then he saw a finger reach down, swiping at the blood and moving up again. Was he tasting it or was the look enough? All he’d have to do now was shoot through the plaster, leaving Ben’s body to hang, unseen for days, until someone followed the smell.

Instead his face suddenly appeared, crouched down. “So. Come out now.”

Ben looked at him, gulping air. “Why?”

“As you wish,” Dieter said, raising the gun.

Every second a bargain, maybe a chance. Ben began to wriggle back, dropping his feet, moving down to the floor and out from under the map. The line of blood streaked as he pulled himself up, now facing Dieter.

“The preservation instinct,” Dieter said. “It’s wonderful, yes?”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Then burn down the studio? Such a colorful ending.” He shook his head. “It’s a question of attention. Something quiet.” He motioned him toward the dividing wall, back to the nightclub. “A fire. Everyone wants to know. Questions.”

“They’re going to ask anyway. There are always questions.”

“Not always,” he said, nudging him with the gun into the nightclub. He swerved suddenly. “Who’s there?” He tilted his head, listening.

“You’re hearing things,” Ben said. “Conscience?”

A diversion. He reached down to nurse his hand, hurting again, then looked up and stopped. The wall phone, its receiver dangling. Someone here. He moved to his left so that Dieter would face away from it.

“Stay.”

A sound of movement, rustling, then a faint cling, something touching metal. Keep him talking.

“Hadn’t you better close the door? The whole studio will hear the shot.”

“Quiet,” Dieter said, listening.

“Security would come running.”

Dieter looked at him. “You’re right. There’s not much time.”

More footsteps somewhere, a whisper, then a hum of one of the studio carts passing outside. Night sounds. Air moving through the cottonwoods. Carpenters. No posse coming. Dieter held the gun out before him.

“They’ll hear it.”

“Yes, I heard it, too. Where do you think it came from? Shall I help them look? But not there.” He nodded to one of the camera cases.

A thump, unmistakable this time, inside the sound stage. Dieter swung toward the bar. “Come out!”

“I’m here,” Liesl said, coming up behind him.

He whirled around and froze, taking in the gun in her hand, the improbable gown, the whole moment inexplicable. “Liesl.”

“Stop. I can shoot.”

“Get out of here. You don’t know—”

“Yes. It was you. I know now. So you’d have to kill me, too.”

“Don’t talk crazy. Put down the gun. Where did you—?”

“By the door,” she said simply. “Someone dropped it.” She looked at Ben.

He started to move toward her, but Dieter stopped him with the gun. “No. We finish this.”

“What do you want?” Liesl said. “Everyone shoots?”

“You won’t.”

“Yes, I can do it. It’s loaded, I checked. I took the safety off. They taught me. For War Bride. I shoot a soldier who’s trying to rape me. It’s my secret. So I know how. Move away from him,” she said to Ben.

He took a hesitant step, but Dieter grabbed his upper arm, holding him, gun still raised.

“No,” Liesl said. “It’s enough, Dieter. It’s the end now. Not him, too.” She stepped forward to maneuver him away from Ben. “Not him, too.”