I untangled myself from her, got up and went into the passageway. She followed me. I tried again to persuade her to do the talking. She would not, although she didn’t object to my talking. I would have liked it better if whoever was downstairs didn’t learn that the woman wasn’t alone. But she was too stubborn in her refusal for me to do anything with her.
“Well?” I said into the speaking-tube.
“Who the hell are you?” a harsh, deep-chested voice asked.
“What do you want?”
“I want to talk to Inés.”
“Speak your piece to me,” I suggested, “and I’ll tell her about it.”
The woman, holding one of my arms, had an ear close to the tube.
“Billie, it is,” she whispered. “Tell him that he goes away.”
“You’re to go away,” I passed the message on.
“Yeah?” the voice grew harsher and deeper. “Will you open the door, or will I bust it in?”
There wasn’t a bit of playfulness in the question. Without consulting the woman, I put a finger on the button that unlocks the street door.
“Welcome,” I said into the tube.
“He’s coming up,” I explained to the woman. “Shall I stand behind the door and tap him on the skull when he comes in? Or do you want to talk to him first?”
“Do not strike him!” she exclaimed. “It is Billie.”