Wine and Gun

Albarino, like a sculpture, maintained his position just now, looking up at Herstal. Herstal saw a kind of magic that could almost be called "shock" in his eyes, and his emotions were restrained and helpless, which made his magic look a little confused and funny.

"There are a lot of things you haven't thought about, Albarino." Herstal told him calmly, "You always believed that you were in control of the game, but you never thought about it. The key to your ability to control the game is People are inherently willing to match your moves. The flipping game is really not very elegant, but when other people are no longer willing to match your pace, this kind of thing happens.”

Albarino stared at him and said in a tight tone, "Herstal..."

"So," Herstal announced, sounding the same as ever, as if deliberate, though what he said made him sound like crazy. "I'll keep you here, and I'll kill Slade."

"You can't do that!" Albarino couldn't help raising his voice, and for the first time since Herstal had known him, his voice sounded like a roar, like real anger, like a real human being , "I choose to be with you, you can't decide for me my—"

He stood up abruptly, the nylon straps that bound his wrists suddenly tightened, and there was a dull thud against the railing, and the metal frame made a harsh creak, but remained motionless.

"Of course you think so when you're not calm," Herstal said flatly.

"Oh, then do you think I'm not calm enough now?" Albarino replied sharply, he rarely spoke in this tone, and Herstal looked at his flushed cheeks and wanted to smile.

"Yes, you are not calm enough now. But I believe you can calm down, because as I said before, you neither understand the hesitation of love nor the pain of love." Herstal replied, He gave a reluctant, pale smile, "Of course you're going to have a hard time accepting this fact now, but when the dust settles - I suspect at most a few months, you'll be able to get out of here. You have There is room for choice, and your hobbies may also change."

Albarino stared at Herstal for a long time, and then said slowly: "...I always feel that this kind of rhetoric reveals a sense of familiarity. Have you been with Olga for too long?"

"I think she's right," Herstal said, and he reached out again, unnecessarily tidying his cuffs, which were neat and unnecessarily tidy. He has always had this compulsion to keep everything in order according to his own wishes, but Albarino is not a button.

"Three hours later, someone will come to untie you," Herstal said. "That person is a non-legal doctor who usually does some first-aid work for the wounded in gang fires, and this house is him. Yes... I suggest you don't kill him, he's pretty tight-lipped about a lot of things anyway."

Albarino blinked at Herstal, the blood on his face had not yet dissipated, and under the bright red sunset, it was as if he had just crossed the river of blood: "And I guess, by that time, I was already in the eyes of people. Are you dead without a corpse?"

"Yes," Herstal replied.

"Then I have to leave the United States in secret, or I can't explain my suspended animation. You were already under arrest at that time, and if I was still alive, it would be easy to think that I was your accomplice." Albarino He continued, "How can you be sure that I won't rush into the police station with a gun to look for you as soon as I untie it?"

Herstal looked at Albarino for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"You won't," he whispered. "You'll have new hobbies, and you can stop."

—They could all read his implication: and I couldn't.

"I'm tired of the desolate and moving seas," Herstal recounted in a gentle voice, his eyes flicking between Albarino's brows like a nestless bird, "but you know, my hometown Not on the island."

He paused, and his voice softened again.

"Goodbye, Albarino."

Herstal got into his car, which was parked downstairs in the gray, unremarkable little clinic: the unlicensed doctor owed him a huge debt and offered to do it for him. "Take off someone's nylon girdle in three hours".

That happened a long time ago. When he first came to Westland, it was an interesting incident on the way to opening a law firm. If Albarino was a normal man—if he were a normal murderer, to put it 10,000 steps back—then Herstal would share with him the bits and pieces of what had happened to him.

But this is not the case, and there is no need to regret it.

He sat in the car for a while, not in a hurry to start the car. It's not that Rolls-Royce, it's a Beetle with a fake license plate. His own car was too eye-catching. After the accident on Slade, it was easy for the police to follow the surveillance to find out where the car went. He didn't want to take the risk of being discovered by WLPD that Albarino was still alive. .

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