CHAPTER 10I wasn’t awfully polite. I was concentrating on a way to disarm Clyde and had little to offer the others.
“Caccelli,” I said, “get this monkey off my back. I swear, I’ll tie his legs around his neck and dump him off the roof.”
“Now, now,” Caccelli said, “Clyde doesn’t want to hurt anybody.”
Every fiber of Clyde’s being wanted to hurt somebody—specifically me. He was just out of reach. All he had was a knife, not such a horrendous weapon, except that the way he was holding it, he could put it deep in me simply by letting it fly a short distance, such a short distance. I tried backing off, but he came right along. He was steady on his feet and in his hands, and by my conservative calculations, he was totally unpredictable.
“I had an impression you were going to San Diego,” Cacc
