" McAdams barked. Casca did as he was bade, letting the Main Gauche fall from his fingers along with the wine glass. "You didn't think you could get away with making a fool of me, did you?" McAdams asked curtly. Casca said nothing. The cord around his neck was just tight enough to keep his vocal cords from responding. Let McAdams talk. He was listening to the breathing behind him, his nose sorting out the smells. He thought he had it about right. His eyes straight ahead he stared at McAdams, who had a good humored look on his face. Without warning he smashed the back of his head straight back, crushing the cartilage of the nose of the man who held the ends of the garrote about his neck. Before a grunt of pain could come from the full-fleshed lips, he had grabbed a hold on one wrist and was pivoting down and to his right side, his right leg serving as a lever that the strangler was drawn over with enough force that his grip on the garrote broke and he left the floor of the bedroom as his body twisted in the air.
