1954 - Safer Dead (23 page)

Now I was learning something. So it was Royce who had hired Flemming to murder Fay.

I started to ask her if Andrews had seen the man again when I happened to glance in the driving mirror. I had been listening so intently to what Lydia had been saying, my attention had strayed from the thought of pursuit. What I saw in the mirror gave me a jolt. Two big yellow blobs of light hung in the darkness behind me. Maybe they were half a mile in the rear, but they were coming fast.

Lydia saw them at the same time as I did.

I heard her catch her breath as I shoved my foot down on the gas pedal.

II

T
he four lane highway was as straight as a yard stick and as dark as a chimney. With a flat out speed of sixty miles an hour I knew I had no chance of shaking off the pursuing car. The yellow blobs of light crept closer.

Lydia, looking over her shoulder through the rear window, watched them, hypnotized, her face pallid in the light of the dashboard, her eyes wild and staring. I nudged her with my knee.

‘Can we get off this road?’ I shouted above the noise of the engine.

She came alive with an effort.

‘There’s a turning somewhere ahead.’

I snapped off the headlights. The following car was still a quarter of a mile or so in the rear. I searched the darkness for an intersection sign and nearly missed it.

‘Just ahead now,’ Lydia cried, clutching my arm.

‘Watch out!’

I stamped on the brake pedal as the turning loomed up. The car tyres screamed in protest. Lydia, her hands on the dashboard, swayed forward and sideways against me as the Lincoln slewed around, the back wheels locked. The car wobbled, the offside wheels lifted as I released the brakes, then we shot down the turning on to a snake back road that forced my speed down to a dangerous thirty.

Without headlights and with the twists and bends I had all I could do not to run off the road. After I had driven three hundred yards or so, Lydia who was staring back through the rear window gasped, ‘They’ve passed! They’ve missed us!’

‘Where does this road lead to?’ I asked, turning on my headlights. I edged the speed up to thirty-five.

‘Glyne Bay. It’s a small beach town.’

‘Can we get back on to the Frisco road from there?’

‘No. This is the only road in and out. They’ll come back.’ She beat her fists together hysterically. ‘They’ll know we’ve taken this turning.’

I thought that was likely but I didn’t say so.

‘Take it easy. We’ll ditch the car and hide up somewhere. If I can get to a telephone I’ll call the Welden police. Glyne Bay’s in their district.’

The road straightened, and ahead I could make out the haze of street lights. I increased speed.

Lydia’s grip on my arm tightened.

‘They’re coming!’ she gasped.

I looked into the driving mirror. In the rear, on the snake back road, I could see the blaze of headlights. I pushed the gas pedal to the boards and the Lincoln surged forward. Ahead, I saw a neon sign that ran: Turn left for Glyne Beach Motel.

I turned off my headlights, swung the car left, banged and rocked down a narrow drive-in that led to a large car park where forty to fifty cars stood in two long rows. I slammed on brakes, nailed the Lincoln beside a dusty Ford, opened the car door and slid out.

‘Come on!’

I could see the headlights of the following car turn into the drive-in. Catching Lydia by the wrist, I ran with her across the car park, through a double gateway, along a cinder path that opened out on to a big grass covered lot around which were fifty or so cabins.

The cabin that housed the renting office stood in the middle of the lot. It was in darkness. I had Juan’s gun in my hand now. Looking back I saw the car park was alight from the following car’s headlamps.

I paused long enough to try the office door, but it was locked. There was no time to fool around. We had to get under cover. We had only seconds to do it in.

I heard someone running down the cinder path towards us. I bolted with Lydia across the grass towards a row of dark cabins. One of them had a ‘vacant’ sign hanging on the front door handle. I let go of Lydia’s hand, jumped up the two steps, took off the sign, stepped off the stoop, caught her hand again and pulled her around to the back of the cabin. I tossed the sign into the darkness.

‘We’ll get in here,’ I panted.

One of the back windows was unlatched. I got my fingers under the window frame and pushed the window up. Then I put one arm around Lydia’s waist, the other under her knees and swung her through the window. I climbed in after her, shut and latched the window.

‘They’ll find us here,’ she said. ‘They’ll trap us.’

‘Maybe they won’t,’ I said, crouching by the window while I looked into the darkness.

She came near me. I could hear her quick, light breathing. I didn’t see anyone. I didn’t hear anything.

‘Stay here while I see if there’s a telephone,’ I said.

I groped my way across the room, found a door, opened it and stepped into darkness. I scratched a match alight. Down a passage, on the left was a door. Flicking the match out, I turned the handle and moved into what appeared to be a sitting room. Crossing to the window I looked out, keeping to one side. Right in the middle of the neatly cut lawn I saw the dim outline of Borg. His wide shoulders and squat body were unmistakable. His back was turned to the cabin. The faint light of a cloud-covered moon reflected on the steel barrel of a gun he held in his hand.

I pulled the curtains across the windows, struck another match and spotted a telephone standing on a table near the window. I went over to it, lifted the receiver and dialled emergency.

The operator sounded eager to be of service.

‘Give me the Welden police,’ I said.

I waited in the darkness, my shirt sticking to my back, my heart thumping while I listened to the clicking on the line.

A voice growled, ‘Welden police headquarters.’

‘Captain Creed there?’

‘No, he isn’t. Who’s calling?’

‘Give me Sergeant Scaife.’

‘Hold a moment.’

More clicking rapped against my ear, then Scaife’s voice said, ‘Scaife talking.’

‘This is Sladen. I’m in a motel at Glyne Beach. A couple of gunmen are looking for me and I want help. What can you do?’

‘I’ll fix it,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ve a prowl car in that district. It’ll be over to you in ten minutes.’

‘Hey! Make it faster than that. These guys mean business.’

‘I’ll fix it,’ he said and rung off.

I groped my way back to the other room. Lydia was standing against the wall by the window, looking out into the darkness.

‘The police are on their way,’ I told her. ‘They’ll be here any moment. Seen anyone out there?’

‘No.’

I could feel her trembling.

We waited, side by side, watching and listening. Suddenly her hand closed over my wrist. Her flesh felt cold.

‘Did you hear something?’ she whispered.

I listened, holding my breath.

Somewhere in the cabin a board creaked. In the silence it sounded loud and startling.

Lydia shivered, and her grip tightened.

‘Take it easy,’ I said, my lips close to her face. ‘Move as quietly as you can,’ and I led her across the room to the door. I stood her against the wall so that if the door opened she would be behind it.

Another board creaked outside, then I heard the door down the passage open.

‘They’re here,’ Lydia gasped.

‘Leave it to me,’ I said, not feeling anything like as confident as I sounded.

A soft scraping noise outside in the passage set my heart thumping. Then I heard the door handle creak as a hand closed over it. Stepping in front of Lydia, my finger on the trigger of the gun, I waited.

The door swung open, pinning us behind it. Lydia’s fingers were digging into my wrist. I hoped feverishly she wouldn’t panic and start to scream.

Through the crack between the door and the door jamb I caught sight of a squat, wide-shouldered shadow. For some moments Borg stood in the doorway, peering into the dark room, then he took two steps forward that brought him into the room. I was tense and waiting. I heard him cross to the window. His next move must be to look behind the door, and then it would be a question of who would shoot the faster. I wasn’t going to wait for that moment. The advantage was too much on his side. I pulled my wrist from Lydia’s grip, slid past her and out from behind the shelter of the door.

Borg had opened the window and was leaning forward to peer into the darkness.

With my heart in my mouth, I rushed him.

He was jerking back and turning as I reached him. I had the gun by its barrel and I struck at his head. He was badly placed, startled and off balance, but he did manage to shift his head enough to avoid absorbing most of the blow. The gun butt scraped down the side of his face, dazing him. His gun dropped out of his hand as he lurched into me, his great arms instinctively closing around mine. It was like being caught in the hug of a bear. I tried to shove him off, but I might just as well have shoved against the Empire State building. He was half a foot shorter than

I was, and he used that advantage to drive the top of his head, that felt like a slab of concrete, under my jaw.

The impact was like being hit with a rock and I felt my knees buckle. He tried the same dodge again, but this time I managed to get my jaw out of the way. I hooked my heel around the back of his leg and heaved forward. He lost balance, and we went to the floor with a crash that nearly brought in the roof of the cabin.

It was my luck I fell on top of him. The jolt sent my gun out of my hand and away into the darkness. The fall broke his hold. I was scrambling to my feet when a fist whistled out of the

darkness and caught me on my bicep. He could punch like a professional and the force of the blow sent me down.

Grunting he came at me. I swung up a foot, got it in the middle of his barrel of a chest, grabbed one of his arms and heaved. He went over me like a heaved sack of coal and crashed against the wall.

I got to my feet, grabbed up a chair and slammed it down on his head as he got up on hands and knees. He flattened out, heaved up again and caught me under the knees before I could hit him again.

I took a toss that beat most of the breath out of me, and he was on top of me by the time I got my head clear. I shoved my open hand into his face, holding him back, but I took a chopping blow on the side of my neck that turned me sick. I shoved him away and as he scrambled towards me again, I kicked him in the chest.

He rolled over on his back, but he could take any amount of that kind of stuff. He was getting to his feet as my hand closed around the leg of the bedside table. His head was outlined against the window, and it made a nice target. I hit him on the exact top of his head with the table which flew to pieces under the impact.

He flattened out and stayed out.

Panting, I bent over him, turned him on his back to make sure he wasn’t foxing. I felt as if I had been snarled up with a bulldozer. I looked across the room for Lydia, but I couldn’t see her.

‘Lydia!’

She didn’t answer.

I fumbled my way across to the electric light switch and turned the light on.

She wasn’t in the room.

As I ran out into the passage, shouting her name, I heard the sound of an approaching police siren.

III

I
jerked open the cabin door and ran out on to the verandah. Away through the trees I could see the blaze of approaching car headlights.

A yellow flash of flame came from across the lawn, something zipped past my face and carved splinters from the front door. The crash of gunfire shattered the silence of the night, and I hurriedly ducked back under cover.

I had forgotten the second gunman, and he had nearly fixed me. I bolted down the passage into the back room for my gun. The sight of the empty room made my nerves crawl.

Borg had made a pretty quick recovery. He was either hiding in the cabin or he had left by the window. I snatched up the gun, jumped across the room and turned off the light.

Cautiously I made my way down the passage to the front door again.

I heard a car pull up with a screeching of tyres. Car doors slammed, then two policemen, guns in hand, came running down the cinder path. From across the lawn, behind the shelter of a cabin, there was a flash and a bang of gunfire.

The two policemen scattered like startled hens, diving behind trees. One of them fired at the cabin. There was a crash of glass and a woman screamed.

Lights began to flash up in the cabins, spilling through the windows on to the lawn.

I caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure, squat and thickset moving stealthily towards the trees. It was Borg. Lifting my gun, I fired at him. He broke into a run, but before he could reach the shelter of the trees, one of the policemen fired at him, and his shooting was more accurate than mine.

Borg went down on one knee, struggled up, then came slowly out into the open. The gun in his hand blazed. The two policemen both fired at him. Staggering back, he dropped his gun and spread out on the grass.

The second gunman made a dash for the cinder path. One of the policemen spun around, jerked up his gun and fired. The gunman dropped, rolled over, tried to get up on hands and knees, then slumped down on the cinders.

‘You’ve got both of them now,’ I shouted and moved out on to the verandah.

The two policemen came cautiously towards me, covering me with their guns.

‘I’m Sladen,’ I said, careful not to move. It struck me these two might be trigger happy.

‘Drop that gun!’ one of them rapped out.

I put the gun on the verandah floor.

‘Okay; now identify yourself.’

I gave him my press card and driving licence.

‘Okay, Mr. Sladen,’ the policeman said. ‘Looks like we turned up about right. Sergeant Scaife’s sending another car. It should I be here any moment.’

‘Did you see a girl around?’ I asked.

‘Didn’t see anyone except those two punks.’