hilt in Gordon's breast before his big right hand found the knife and wrenched it from his grasp.
Then slowly, silently, inch by inch, he bent the banker's body over his knee, driving his great fingers into his throat, until the spinal column snapped with a dull crack.
The limp form sank to the floor, and the two big hands clutched the throat until every finger left its black print as if branded red hot into the massive neck.
A quick knock, and Kate's excited voice called:
"Open this door!"
Throwing the body behind the desk in the centre of the room, he felt for the switch, turned on the light, unlocked the door, stepped back and said:
"Come in."
Kate quickly opened the door and rushed into the room. He locked it and put the key in his pocket without a word.
She turned on him a face blanched with speechless horror as he slowly advanced on her in silence, his eyes wide open, cold and set.
The blood was running down across his cheek in a stream from a wound in the upper edge of his high forehead.
She stood dumb with physical fear.
He came close, in laboured breath, his face still sick and white with the desire to kill.
The voice was hard and metallic with the vibrant ring of steel.
