Knock Knock Whos There Page 11

it came through the slatted shutters and he had difficulty in seeing

  the print that he realized he was hungry, that his ankle no longer

  ached and it was 17.20 by his watch.

  “If books are as good as this one,” he thought, “I’ve been missing

  something.”

  He was finishing the cold stew and about to light a cigarette

  when he heard the lock turn in the cabin door. Hurriedly, he dropped

  his cigarette and reached for his gun.

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  “It’s me,” Freeman called and came into the small bedroom. “I

  think there’s trouble. There are three men heading this way. They

  didn’t see me. They’re all carrying guns.”

  Johnny struggled upright.

  “They’ll be here in ten minutes or less. Come on, Johnny, I can

  hide you where they won’t think of looking.” Freeman hoisted

  Johnny up on his left foot. “You hop. Don’t put any weight on your

  bad foot.”

  Johnny grabbed his gun and holster, then supported by Freeman,

  he hopped through the living-room and out into the sunshine.

  Freeman steered him to the big lean-to behind the cabin.

  “This is my snake house,” Freeman said. “You don’t have to be

  scared. They’re all in cages and can’t touch you.”

  He manoeuvred Johnny into the semi-darkness and Johnny could

  hear the dry rattling sound a rattlesnake makes when alarmed.

  Freeman propped him up against the wall, then moving to a big

  eight-foot-high cage, he dragged it forward. Johnny saw the cage was

  alive with writhing rattlesnakes. Freeman caught hold of him and got

  him behind the cage and propped him against the wall.

  “You’ll be okay,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll fix the bed. They

  won’t know you’re here,” then he moved the cage back on Johnny,

  wedging him against the wall and out of sight.

  Johnny could smell the snakes. Their movements chilled him.

  Leaning hard on his sound foot, keeping his injured foot slightly off

  the ground, he set himself to wait.

  Berilli, flanked on either side by Freddy and Jack suddenly came

  on the clearing and Freeman’s cabin.

  For hours now they had combed the jungle and they were sick

  and tired of the search. They had become careless. Berilli had

  realized after three or four hours that Johnny could be lying, hidden,

  in any of the big thickets and by keeping still, they could have walked

  past him.

  He realized this operation had been too hastily mounted. What

  they needed in this goddamn place was a dog to flush Johnny out.

  But now he was stuck with the operation and he was scared to go

  back to Massino and report no success.

  He, Freddy and Jack had walked through the jungle for six

  gruelling hours. The only thing they had seen that moved was a

  snake. Then just when Berilli was about to call off the operation and

  admit defeat, they came on the clearing and the log cabin.

  The three instinctively dodged back behind thicket.

  “He could be here,” Berilli said.

  They started across the clearing at the cabin, then they saw a

  tall, thin man, wearing shabby khaki drill come out of the cabin. He

  walked over to the well and began drawing water.

  “Jack . . . you talk to him,” Berilli said.

  “Not me, pal,” Jack said. “You chat him up . . . I’ll cover you.”

  “So will I,” Freddy said and grinned. “You’re the boss, Lu.”

  So Berilli moved out of the clearing, his heart thumping,

  wondering if Johnny was holed up in the cabin, taking aim at him

  through the slatted shutters.

  Freeman looked up as Berilli approached him.

  “Hi, stranger.” His voice was soft and calm. “Have you lost your

  way? I haven’t seen anyone this way for months.”

  Berilli eyed him, keeping his gull behind him, out of sight.

  “You live here?” he demanded.

  “That’s right.” Freeman was perfectly at ease. “Jay Freeman: I’m

  the snake man.”

  Berilli stiffened.

  “Snakes? What do you mean?”

  Patiently, Freeman explained.

  “I collect serum for hospitals.” He paused, looking directly into

  Berilli’s suspicious eyes. “Who are you?”

  “Have you seen a short, thick-set man with black hair, around

  forty years of age? We’re looking for him.”

  “As I said, you’re the first human I’ve seen in months.”

  Berilli looked uneasily at the cabin.

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  “You’d better not lie to me. If he’s in there, you’re in trouble and

  I mean trouble.”

  “What’s all this about?” Freeman asked mildly. “Are you the

  police?”

  Ignoring the question, Berilli signalled to the other two who

  came out from behind the thicket.

  “We’ll take a look at your cabin,” he said to Freeman as Jack and

  Freddy joined him. “Go ahead, bright boy, and stop flapping with

  your mouth.”

  Freeman walked into the cabin. Using him as a shield, Berilli

  entered behind him, his gun in hand, his heart pounding, while Jack

  and Freddy waited outside. After a quick search, pushing Freeman

  always ahead of him, Berilli came out of the cabin and into the

  sunshine. He shook his head at the other two.

  “What is that?” he demanded, seeing the lean-to.

  “My snake house,” Freeman said. “Have a look. I’ve just caught a

  cranebrake rattler. Have you ever seen one?”

  Crouched behind the snake cage, Johnny heard every word and

  he thumbed back the safety on his gun. He could hear a soft

  whistling sound and he knew who was out there: Freddy, a Mafia

  killer and more dangerous than any of the snakes, writhing and

  rattling around him.

  “Go ahead,” Berilli said and prodded Freeman with his gun.

  Again sheltering behind Freeman, Berilli peered into the lean-to,

  saw the cages, smelt the snake smell and backed away.

  He crossed over to Freddy and Jack.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “We could search this goddamn

  jungle for months and still not find him.”

  “That’s the brightest thing you’ve said so far,” Jack said.

  Freeman watched the three men move off into the jungle, then

  he fetched a bucket of water from the well and returned to his cabin.

  He waited some ten minutes, then leaving the cabin, he moved into

  the jungle as quietly and as swiftly as one of his snakes. Without

  being seen or heard, he caught up with the three men and watched

  them meet up with six ‘other men, watched them talk, then saw

  them get into two cars and drive away.

  Then he returned to his cabin to release Johnny from his hiding-

  place and assure him the hunt was over.

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  SIX

  For eight, long boring days, Johnny remained in Freeman’s cabin.

  During this time his beard made progress and his ankle mended.

  Looking at himself in the mirror in the shower room, he saw how

  the beard altered his appearance and he felt confident, unless he

  was examined closely, that no one-would recognize him. He had got

  Freeman to drive into town and buy him two sets of khaki drill, a

>   bush jacket and a bush hat, together with toilet things, shirts, socks

  and a suitcase.

  Although, from time to time, his ankle still ached, he could now

  walk fairly well and he felt it was time to move on. He decided to pick

  up a south-bound truck on the freeway and make his way to Jackson.

  He was sure Fuselli would give him shelter for a time, and then when

  the heat had cooled off, he would go back and collect the money. By

  that time, his grey-black beard would be impressive and he felt the

  risk of returning had to be taken. With some of the money he had

  taken from Sammy, he would buy a used car, and still have plenty in

  hand.

  But first, he must have information.

  So on the eighth day, now dressed in khaki drill and wearing the

  bush hat, he asked Freeman to drive him into town.

  “I’ve got to make a phone call,” he explained.

  Johnny hadn’t seen much of Freeman during his stay at the

  cabin. The snake man went off at dawn and seldom got back until

  dusk. They then spent a couple of hours together over supper and

  then both went to bed. But during those hours, Freeman never asked

  questions, talked easily about every subject under the sun and

  encouraged Johnny to read, and Johnny discovered the magic of

  books. The books he liked best were books on travel and sailing and

  Freeman had a good selection.

  “Sure,” Freeman said. “Are you thinking of leaving? You can stay

  here as long as you like, Johnny.”

  “I’ve got to get on.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  This was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to Johnny and to

  hide his emotion, he gave Freeman a light punch on his arm.

  “Yeah . . . that makes two of us, and I won’t forget what you’ve

  done for me. Now listen, I’ve plenty of money. I want you to have

  two hundred for all you’ve done for me. Buy yourself a telly or

  something to remember me by.”

  Freeman laughed.

  “Appreciated but not accepted. That’s one thing I never need . . .

  money. You keep it. You may need it . . . I won’t.”

  They drove into town early the following morning. Johnny felt

  naked and his eyes darted continuously to right and left. Under his

  bush jacket was his gun and he kept fingering the butt. But he saw no

  one suspicious. He went into the small hotel and shut himself in a call

  booth. He looked at his watch: the time was 08.10. Sammy should be

  getting up by now. He dialled the number and waited.

  Sammy answered almost immediately.

  “Sammy . . . this is Johnny.”

  He heard Sammy catch his breath.

  “I—I don’t want to talk to you, Mr. Johnny. You could get me into

  bad trouble. I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

  “Listen!” Johnny put a snap in his voice. “You’re my friend,

  Sammy . . . remember? I’ve done a lot for you . . . now it’s your turn.”

  He heard Sammy moan softly and he could imagine him,

  sweating, grey-faced and trembling.

  “Yeah. What is it, Mr. Johnny? You took all my money. That

  wasn’t nice. You’re in real bad, and if they knew you were talking to

  me, I’d be in real bad too.”

  “They won’t know. Sammy . . . I had to have that money. You’ll

  get it back. I promise. Don’t worry about it. Are they looking for me?”

  “They sure are! This Mr. Tanza is handling it! I heard the boss and

  Mr. Tanza talking while I was driving them. I don’t know where you

  are and I don’t want to know, but they’re looking for you in Florida.

  They talked of someone called Fuselli. Toni and Ernie are out there.

  You’ve got to be careful, Mr. Johnny.”

  97

  Johnny stiffened. So the heat really was on! How the hell had

  Massino got on to Fuselli?

  “Have you gone crazy, Mr. Johnny?” Sammy went on, his voice

  husky. “You really took all that money? I can’t believe it! Mr. Joe is

  like he’s demented. I’d sooner collect than drive him. He scares me

  to death the way he acts!”

  “I’ll call you in a little while, Sammy,” Johnny said quietly. “Keep

  your ears open. Don’t worry about your money . . . you’ll get it back.

  Just listen to everything the boss says. I need your help.”

  “Mr. Johnny, please keep away from me. If they find out . . .

  please, Mr. Johnny. You keep my money. Just keep away from me,”

  and Sammy hung up.

  Johnny stood motionless in the stuffy booth, staring out into the

  lounge of the hotel, feeling his heart beating heavily and a chill of

  fear down his spine. By going to Fuselli as he had planned, he could

  have walked into a trap. Now he really was on his own.

  Leaving the booth, he went out into the sunshine and got in the

  car by Freeman’s side.

  “Okay?” Freeman asked as he started the motor.

  Johnny thought of Carlo Tanza. This meant the Mafia

  organization were now hunting for him and they had somehow

  guessed he was heading south. They had somehow got on to Fuselli.

  He had a feeling of being in a net. For a moment, the net was above

  him and around him, but he still had room to manoeuvre.

  “Not so good,” he said’ and lit a cigarette. “Don’t worry your

  brains about me. I’ll move on tonight.”

  Freeman glanced at him, then drove back to the cabin in silence.

  When the two men entered the cabin, Freeman said, “Look

  Johnny, two heads are better than one. Do you feel like talking or do

  you still want to handle this on your own?”

  For a brief moment, Johnny was tempted to pour out the whole

  story, then he thought of the danger Freeman could be in. If the

  Mafia even suspected he had hidden here, they would torture

  Freeman until he talked, then kill him.

  “I’ll handle it,” he said. “You keep out of it.”

  “As bad as that?” Freeman looked searchingly at him.

  “That’s it . . . as bad as that.”

  “You’ll come out of it, Johnny. There’s something about you . . .

  guts . . . I don’t know, but I’ll put my money on you.”

  “Not too much,” Johnny said and forced a smile. “I’d hate you to

  lose it.” He went into his room, shut the door and lay on the bed.

  What was he to do? he asked himself. He longed to go south, but

  if they knew that was where he was heading, wouldn’t it be asking

  for trouble? He considered this. On the face of it, it would be risking

  a lot, but maybe the risk was worth it. Maybe, after a while, they

  would decide he hadn’t gone south after all and start looking

  elsewhere. Anyway, wherever he went they would be hunting for

  him and he wanted so badly to go south.

  For an hour or so, he lay there, experiencing a sick feeling of

  being trapped, then a tap came on the door and Freeman came in.

  “I’ve work to do, Johnny,” he said. “I won’t be back until late.

  Why not stay on here?”

  “No.” Johnny got off the bed. “It’ll work out as you said. I’ll be

  gone by the time you get back. I want to say thanks.” He stared for a

  long moment at Freeman. “You may not know it, but I’d be dead by

 
now but for you.”

  “I didn’t know it was that bad. Those three men . .?” Johnny held

  out his hand.

  “The less you know . . .”

  The two men shook hands. There was a pause, then Freeman

  went away. Through the window, Johnny watched him striding into

  the jungle, carrying his sack.

  So what was he going to do now? He fingered his St. Christopher

  medal. Why wait until dark? Why not go now? He felt the urge to get

  out of this suffocating jungle and on to the freeway. He took out his

  gun, checked it, then slid it back into its holster. Then he picked up

  his suitcase, looked around the little room, feeling a pang of

  loneliness to be leaving it, then walked out into the sunshine and

  started down the jungle path that would eventually bring him to the

  freeway.

  99

  It took him half an hour to get out of the jungle and to the

  freeway. This long walk made his ankle ache. Once on the freeway,

  he kept on, limping a little until he was some two miles from

  Freeman’s cabin. Then he paused, leaning against a tree and

  watched the traffic roar by.

  Trucks, cars and cars pulling caravans roared by him. He decided

  to start walking again. By now his ankle was throbbing and he

  wondered, with a feeling of alarm, if he had been too confident

  about his injury. He stopped in the shade and as he was about to sit

  on the grass to rest an open truck came to a stop some twenty yards

  from him.

  Grabbing up his suitcase, he limped up to the truck. The driver

  had got out and had the hood up. He was staring at the engine.

  As Johnny approached the man, he looked hard at him: tall, lean,

  around twenty-seven years of age with long nut-brown hair, wearing

  dirty overalls, and to Johnny, harmless enough.

  “You in trouble?” Johnny asked as he reached the truck.

  The man looked up.

  An odd face, Johnny thought. Thin, narrow eyes, a small mouth,

  a thin nose and a sour expression which Johnny had often seen: a

  defeated face.

  “Never out of it. I live in trouble. Just a goddamn plug.” He stood

  away from the truck and lit a cigarette. “Got to let her cool off. You

  looking for a ride?”

  Johnny set down his suitcase.

  “Yeah. Where are you heading?”

  “Little Creek. That’s my home. This side of New Symara.”

  “I pay my way,” Johnny said.

  The man looked sharply at him, eyeing Johnny’s new khaki drill,