Barbara ran toward the entrance gates, then heard the sound of a dull thud, followed by an agonized cry. Turning momentarily to look, she saw that No Face had fallen to the ground. Chet was close-by, still holding a chunk of fallen tombstone with which he had hit No Face over the head. Was he dead from the blow? Barbara did not wait to find out. She began running again.
Before Barbara could reach the gates, something caught around her ankle. She stumbled and fell. Lying on the wet stone walk between two fallen tombstones, she looked down to see what had caused her to fall. Chet had reached out and hooked the crook of his cane around her ankle. Now he stood over her.
"Chet, don't!" she pleaded, looking up at him helplessly.
What words could she say that would put him off? Could any? If not, she had to say what she felt.
"What pleasure could you get out of forcing yourself on someone who doesn't want you?"
He had a crazed look on his handsome face. "For me, it's even more than pleasure. I told you once, what I couldn't get, I always wanted more. Since I could get almost anything I ever wanted, it made the unattainable even more desirable. That's what you've become to me."
As he spoke, he began opening his pants and lowering himself onto her. Pinning her arms down at her side, he tore her raincoat open, then ripped her blouse over her breasts and began kissing them.
She would say more to him, before he took her, then killed her. He was crazy, she was more certain now. Live or die, she had to tell him.
"You'll be found out. Not only for what you're doing to me, but what you did to Paul and Gail. I've written to Gail's parents about you. I sent them the letter I got from a girl you'd been with, when you drove the car drunk that killed Gail. And I've told them to have your company investigated for making unsafe airplane parts and munitions devices for bombs like the Nazis dropped on London."
He released one of her arms just long enough to tear open her slacks, then grab the arm again. He was about to thrust himself into her when her accusations finally seemed to reach him.
"You didn't write anyone," he challenged.
She thought she had nothing to lose. If I'm to die, at least I'll tell the bastard off! "I did. Just a week ago. You're being investigated right now, for Gail's death and for war profiteering. Your company makes unsafe airplane parts and even before the war you went to Germany and had a Nazi girlfriend, that Fraulein you brought to Paul's and Gail's wedding. The family she belongs to is Germany's largest munitions dealer. I wouldn't put it past you to have supplied them with the timing devices they later put in the bombs that were dropped over London during the Blitz. Or the missiles that are coming now."