For a long time the girl was in a fog of white, cottony light, and it took some time before her mind functioned well enough even to wonder how long she had been aware of it. In time, the light differentiated itself into colors and shades. After a long while vague, looming shapes began to appear and it was at this point that Donna Mae finally realized she was alive and awakening. She lay, gathering her mental resources. Having no idea where she was, she had no wish to betray her newly conscious state. And so she observed what she could through slitted eyelids. At least the bedding on which she lay was of a better quality than the thin pallet she had shared in the opium den. And while there was a faint, medicinal tang in the air it was nothing like the miasma of opium, incense, and human overcrowding that had assaulted her senses in that cesspool of despair. Somewhere, feminine voices carried on a quiet conversation.
"I believe she's coming around," said one lowered voice.
"I think she's been awake for awhile now," said another. This too, was a woman's voice, yet cold and distant. Donna Mae wondered just whose clutches she had fallen into now. "You take a break now. I need to talk with her."
"You mustn't tire her," said the first voice again. "She's had a terrible shock and needs her rest right now."
"Sister," said the cold voice, "You don't need to tell me. I'm the one who brought her in. Now I know there have got to be other patients who need your attention, so let me have a few minutes alone with this one."
"Just a few minutes," agreed the first voice, with an undertone of steely emphasis. "When I come back everyone leaves, including that ... that ... gentleman you have out in the hall."
There was no answer to that. Donna Mae heard the staccato of quickly receding footsteps, then heard a door click shut, cutting off the sound. Her heart raced as she realized she was now alone with the woman who claimed to have rescued her. Even in her semi-drugged state she felt a sudden rush of excitement.
"You're one lucky girl," said the cold voice. "I don't know which window you jumped out of, but from the way you looked when we found you, there must have been a pretty good reason for you to take a chance like that." The voice paused. "Still, if you hadn't landed on a pile of garbage that broke your fall, they'd have had to sweep you up with a broom and a dustpan. I wouldn't advise trying that little trick again. Next time you might not be so lucky."
Donna Mae opened her eyes. For a moment she blinked painfully as her vision adjusted to the dim light of the room. Then she looked about. She was lying in a bed, in a well-lit room. A vase of flowers stood on a nightstand nearby. Not much else to see until she focused on the framework with its weights and cords that supported her legs. Both her lower limbs were encased in heavy plaster. Her left arm, too, was in a cast.
"Your legs are broken, badly, I might add," the voice informed her. "Also one arm; some ribs. Some real nasty bruises and a few cuts. But you'll live. Like I said, don't get yourself in situations where you've got to try that window jumping stunt again."
Donna Mae looked toward the sound of the voice and was stunned. Into her morphine-fogged brain filtered the vision of a strikingly beautiful woman seated on a chair. Diamonds dripped from her wrists and throat. A thick, luxurious white fur was draped carelessly across her shoulders. She was a platinum haired vision of glamour that looked across the room at Donna Mae, idly smoking a cigarette in a long, onyx holder.
Donna Mae had never seen a real live movie star before, but in the magazines this was how they looked. She stared at the woman's face for some time, trying to recognize her, but to no avail. The face was beautiful in a disturbing way, for it was as disinterested and expressionless as a white, porcelain mask.
Donna Mae groped for something to say and croaked the word, "Roof."
The beautiful woman leaned forward. "What's that?" she asked.
"Roof," stammered Donna Mae. "I jumped off the ... roof."
The cold blue eyes widened for a moment in what Donna Mae sensed was an unusual display of surprise. "If you're telling the truth you ARE a lucky girl, then. That was a five story building."
Donna Mae closed her eyes, remembering the fateful moment of decision when she had taken the final step, preferring death to the fate promised in that lecherous chinaman's eyes. Then had come the giddy fall through space. There had been a moment when Donna Mae had imagined that it might go on forever, that by some miracle her life would be spared. But at almost the same instant she had felt the shattering impact as her body struck the ground ... and then, nothing.
"Don't pass out on me now, hon," said the mysterious, diamond laden woman. "I need to talk to you and I don't have much time before that nurse comes back. I want to keep things nice and friendly and I don't think I can do that if she tries to kick me out before I'm ready to leave. First off, call me Moll. Some people call me Gun Moll."
Donna Mae looked at her visitor with a new interest. She had read newspaper accounts of the glamourous Gun Moll, the beautiful consort of Rocky Brannigan. Gun Moll was wanted by the police not just as an accomplice to the mobster king's career of crime, but as the mastermind behind some of the Brannigan gang's most daring jobs. And yet despite the sensational newspaper stories of this mobster queen, there were rumours of another side to Gun Moll's personality...
It seemed as if Moll was able to read Donna Mae's mind, for just at that moment she said, "Don't look at me like that, kid. I didn't bring you here out of the goodness of my heart. I'm buying information. Finding you like this in Chinatown was just too much of a coincidence to pass up."
Gun Moll stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray and leaned closer. "I'm on the trail of a Chinese gangster named Dr. Sin Lo. I'm thinking maybe you could tell me something about him."
It required only the look on Donna Mae's face to tell Gun Moll she had guessed right. The poor girl had gone pale with fright.
"Calm down, honey," Gun Moll said as soothingly as she was able, and patted the girl's good hand. "He can't get you here."
Gun Moll's icy, blue eyes bored into Donna Mae's. "I said I need information," she repeated. "You're the only person I've met so far who's actually spent time with this Sin Lo character and lived to tell the tale. So I need you to give me the dope on him. Tell me everything you can remember about this guy, about his gang, the layout of his stronghold, how they caught you, everything." Gun Moll paused, and then said, "I know you're scared, hon. God knows what happened to you in there, and then the fall, and waking up here. I know it's a lot to deal with, but right now I really need your help."
The anaesthetic was wearing off fast now, and Donna Mae searched her mind for every relevant detail, trying as best she could to fashion them into a coherent story. Gun Moll listened impassively, smoking again, as Donna Mae relived her terrifying kidnap; told of the pitiful, lost souls trapped in the opium den; the mad chase through nighted corridors; and the final confrontation on the rooftop under the stars. Gun Moll nodded as she pictured the scenes.
Donna Mae heaved a sigh as her tale wound down. "And then I woke up here," she said. She looked down at her broken body and a tear trickled down her cheek. "And now what will I do?"
Gun Moll gently brushed the tear away and murmured, "Don't worry about anything, you hear? The doctors say in a few months you'll be up and cutting a rug again just like nothing every happened. And as for the hospital bill, it's taken care of. Whatever you need. Just call it a payback for the information, okay?"
"And don't you worry about Sin Lo either. I don't think he'll try anything, even if he does find out you're alive. I'm leaving my bodyguard here tonight. He'll stay in the hall right by your door, whether that nurse likes it or not. And in the morning a friend of mine will stop by. His name is Flynn. He's a cop. He'll see that you're protected."
"Okay," Donna Mae nodded.
"Okay then," Gun Moll rose and arranged her fur about her shoulders. "Look kid," she said, "whatever you went through in there, it's over now. Don't waste your time dwelling on it. You just get yourself well. Get yourself healed up. Then ... you can decide what you want to do after that."
Donna Mae nodded again. "Moll?" she said. "Thank you."
But her only answer was the click of the door as Gun Moll strode out of her life.
)
