"Now I have a modest proposal, which will solve your difficulties," he
said. "I have money, papers, clothing, everything I will need, outside
the reservation. Suppose you just let me leave here. Then, if there is
any trouble, you can use this fiction about the indiscreet underlings,
without the unnecessary embellishment of my suicide--"
Rudolf von Heldenfeld let out an inarticulate roar of fury. For an
instant he was beyond words. Then he sprang to his feet.
"Look at him!" he cried. "Look at him, laughing in our faces, for the
dupes and fools he thinks we are!" He thrust out his hand toward
MacLeod. "Give me the pistol! He won't shoot himself; I'll do it for
him!"
"It would work, Dunc. Really, it would," Heym ben-Hillel urged.
"No," Karen Hilquist contradicted. "If he left here, everybody would
know what had happened, and we'd be accused of protecting him. If he
kills himself, we can get things hushed up: dead traitors are good
traitors. But if he remains alive, we must disassociate ourselves from
him by handing him over.
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