Why Pick On ME? Page 16

  He sat back on his heels, his face set and his eyes hard. Kara has been left alone in the room. He guessed she had taken the gun, and without it he was powerless to help Ritchie.

  He remained for several minutes sitting on his heels, staring at the empty drawer, wondering what to do. Then he got slowly to his feet. He had to get hold of another gun. One false move now would be disastrous, but if he was to save Ritchie’s life, he had to have a gun.

  III

  In the hall, a clock chimed two. For the past three hours Corridon had been sitting at his open window, staring into the grounds. The night was moonless, and it was dark, with heavy black clouds moving sluggishly against the white sky. By now his eyes were accustomed to the darkness. While he had been sitting at the window he had seen two men and three dogs who passed below his window every half hour.

  He had made up his mind he had to take the risk and break out of Baintrees. There was a telephone booth about a hundred yards down the road past the main gates. He had seen it when he had driven with Ames to Curzon Street. If he could reach that and arrange with Ritchie to get him a gun, all might still be well.

  He decided it was time to go. He turned from the window to wedge a chair back under the handle of his door. It was unlikely anyone would visit his room at this hour, but he felt the precaution was wise.

  The dogs worried him. He had no fear of the guards. He was experienced enough to avoid them, but the dogs were dangerous. The only weapon he could find in the room was a short steel poker, and this, he decided would have to serve. He wound a towel round his left arm and knotted it securely. With this to act as a buffer between his arm and the dog’s teeth, he hoped to escape injury if he was attacked.

  He returned to the window. After a few minutes, he again saw the two guards and the dogs on leads as they passed below him. One of the guards was smoking a cigarette, and talked in a low voice. Neither of them seemed to be on the alert. As soon as they were out of sight, Corridon swung his leg over the sill, and reached for the stack pipe. He went down quietly and without haste. Dropping lightly onto the flower-bed, he stepped onto the gravel path and paused to smooth over the footprints he had left in the soil.

  He stood listening for a minute or so, then hearing nothing, moved from the path onto the lawn. Silently and swiftly he ran across the lawn to the big clumps of rhododendron bushes. He paused and looked back at the house. It was in darkness. The rhododendron bushes grew all along the drive to the gates. He decided to keep under cover of these bushes and not risk walking down the wide, open drive. It would take longer, but would be safer.

  He moved off, as silently as a shadow, pausing every so often to listen.

  After a while he caught a glimpse of the drive through the bushes, and suddenly paused as he caught sight of a figure standing in the drive. He immediately recognized the thin, tall figure of Yevski who was motionless as if he were listening.

  Corridon waited, controlling his breathing, the poker gripped tightly in his right hand.

  Yevski began to move towards him. Corridon stayed where he was, knowing he was invisible against the black clump of bushes, but sure the slightest movement on his part would attract Yevski’s attention.

  Yevski paused when he was within three or four yards of Corridon. He stood listening.

  “Who’s that?” he barked suddenly, and Corridon felt the hair on the nape of his neck bristle. “I know you’re there,” Yevski went on, his voice a vicious snarl. “Come on out or I’ll shoot.”

  Still Corridon made no move. After waiting a moment or so Yevski stepped back onto the drive.

  “What’s up?” a voice called, and a shadowy figure joined Yevski.

  “Thought I heard something in the bushes,” Yevski said. “I can’t see anyone. Got a torch? My battery’s run out.”

  The other man said, “You probably heard a rabbit. The place is swarming with them. Come on, the tea’s ready.”

  Yevski hesitated, then turned away. The two men walked into the darkness.

  Corridon drew in a deep breath and wiped his face with his handkerchief. He waited a few minutes, then went on, this time moving more slowly and taking care to make no noise.

  It wasn’t long before he saw ahead of him the electrified fence Homer had told him about. He examined it, keeping well away from it. It was ten feet high, and by the thickness of the wire cable he guessed it carried a lethal voltage. He looked around for a likely tree, and after walking some distance along the side of the fence he came upon a high fir tree. This he decided would suit his purpose. To the average man such a tree would be impossible to climb, but Corridon could climb the side of a house. It took him some time to haul himself up the slim swaying trunk. Once he was above the fence, he wrapped his arms and legs round the tree and began to rock himself backwards and forwards. Soon the tree was swaying violently, and he watched his opportunity. Then suddenly on the outward swing he flung himself backwards, clearing the fence and dropping in a judo fall, first on his heels, then on his back, his arms breaking his fall. He got to his feet and ran to the eight-foot-wall that surrounded the grounds. This took him only a moment to scale and he dropped into a ditch, running alongside the road.

  Before stepping onto the road, he looked to right and left. He saw no one, and he cautiously left the ditch and set off towards the telephone booth. He hadn’t been walking for more than a few seconds when he heard a girl’s voice say, “Spring-time in Paris,” out of the darkness, and he came to an abrupt halt.

  “Who’s that?” he said sharply.

  “Hello, Martin. I was wondering if it could possibly be you,” and Marian Howard appeared at his side.

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” Corridon said. “Where did you spring from?”

  “I have a cottage down the road. We’ve been watching for you ever since we found the place. Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” Corridon grinned at her. It was too dark to see her face, and he suddenly wanted to look at her. “I was about to phone Ritchie.”

  “Come to the cottage,” she said. “We can talk there.”

  He fell into step beside her and they walked briskly down the road.

  “I can’t stay long,” he said. “I’m taking a hell of a risk coming out like this, but my gun was stolen. I’ve got to have another. Have you one?”

  “Oh, yes. I’ll be able to fix you up.” She pushed open a wooden gate and led him up a flag path to a thatched-roof cottage.

  “How in the world did you get hold of this?” Corridon asked, as she opened the front door and led him into a small, comfortably furnished lounge. He was glad to see a bright fire burning, and a bottle of whisky, a syphon of soda water and glasses on a small table by an armchair.

  “My uncle got it,” Marian said, closing the door and shooting the bolt. She turned on the lights and Corridon looked at her. He thought she was looking even more lovely than the last time he had seen her, and he noticed her eyes were bright and her smile warm as she looked at him. “You know what he is. As soon as we were sure we had found you, he scouted around and found this cottage. I don’t know how he got the owner out, but he did. I’ve been here for the past two nights. Rawlins comes down sometimes. He’ll be on duty tomorrow night.”

  “Your uncle thinks of everything,” Corridon said, and sat down before the fire. “Can I pinch some whisky or is it for Rawlins?”

  “Help yourself.” She lifted a saucepan, warming on a trivet by the fire and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Is it really going all right?”

  “So far, but it’ll be tricky. Three more days, and the balloon’ll go up. I wish Ritchie would get someone to take his place. He could get hurt.”

  “But then so could his substitute,” Marian said, looking at him seriously. “You know he wouldn’t stand for that. Besides, he says it’ll be all right with you to cover him.”

  Corridon shrugged.

  “His faith in me is touching. Well, all right, so long as you can give me a gun. I was getting in a bit of a spin wh
en I found mine gone. Without a gun I should have been helpless. These two can shoot.”

  Marian’s face paled as she said, “But suppose they take it into their heads to search you before you leave? If they found the gun on you…”

  “That’s right,” Corridon said. “I hadn’t thought of that. They might easily do that.” He thought for a moment. “Leave the gun in the telephone box for me. That’s the safest way. We shall arrive at ten minutes to ten. Get a clip screwed on underneath the directory stand and clip the gun to it five minutes before we’re due to arrive. Will you fix that?”

  “Of course. I’ll tell uncle.”

  “And now I’d better get back. There’s nothing new to report. Thursday at ten. Warn Ritchie the police must concentrate on Kara. She really can drive, and if she gets away, I’m sunk. MacAdams and Chicho won’t be difficult to handle, but Kara is something special. They’re not to slip up on her!”

  “I’ll tell him.”

  “Well, it’s nice to have seen you again,” Corridon said, and got to his feet, “but Ritchie is acting the goat to let you come here. Doesn’t he know these people are dangerous?”

  She smiled.

  “I persuaded him. At times I can be as obstinate as he is. I wanted to help.” She put her hand on his arm. “And if you are in a fix, flash a torch from your window. I or Rawlins patrol the road every night, and both of us can read Morse. You will, won’t you?”

  “You bet. Well, now I’ll have to find some way to get over that damned fence.”

  “It’s all right. We’ve taken care of that. As soon as we spotted it, we arranged to have the electricity cut off every night in case you wanted to get out.”

  “And to think I climbed a tree just now. Was that Ritchie again?”

  She nodded.

  “He certainly thinks of everything,” Corridon said, looked down at her and wondered if he should kiss her. The serious, lovely eyes decided him not to. He contented himself with patting her arm, then with a cheerful grin, he opened the front door and walked briskly down the path to the gate.

  IV

  As Corridon slipped through the wires of the fence, a long, dark shape came at him like the bullet from a gun. He had only time to flash up his arm, protected by the knotted towel as an Alsatian dog was upon him. The weight of the dog’s spring bowled Corridon over, and he fell on his back with the dog, silent and frightening in its purpose standing over him.

  Snarling, the brute snapped at his throat, but Corridon parried the attack with his bandaged arm, and then he kicked the dog in the chest, sending it away from him. Before he could even get to his knees, the dog was on him again, its teeth narrowly missing his shoulder. Squirming around and kicking viciously, Corridon made himself as difficult a target as possible. He was trying to get into a position where he could hit the dog with the poker, but the animal moved so quickly it was all Corridon could do to block the snapping teeth.

  For a moment or so there was a flurry. Corridon expected to feel the dog’s teeth sink into his flesh at any second, but he kept kicking and thrusting his bandaged arm at the dog, upsetting its concentration and flustering it.

  The dog suddenly jumped away and crouched. Corridon, breathing hard, struggled to his feet. Instantly the dog launched itself at him, in a swift, twisting spring. Corridon ducked and as the animal’s long body went over his bowed shoulders he struck upwards with the poker. The dog gave a yelp and fell over on its side. Jumping forward, Corridon stunned it with a blow on its head.

  He turned and darted away towards the house. His one thought now was to get back to his room as quickly as he could and before he encountered any more of the dogs. Keeping under cover as much as possible, he passed through the rhododendron grove not pausing until he reached the edge of the big lawn which he had to cross before he could reach the house.

  He peered into the darkness, listening, but heard nothing. Gripping the poker, every sense alert, he moved out into the open and began to cross the lawn. Half way across he suddenly saw a red glow of a cigarette end away to his left, and he dropped on hands and knees. It was too dark to see the guard as he patrolled past the front of the house, but Corridon was able to plot his progress by the cigarette end. One of the dogs with the guard whined suddenly and the guard swore at it. The dog barked.

  “Shut up!” Corridon heard the guard growl. “Come to heel!”

  Again the dog barked and Corridon could hear the guard lash the dog as it struggled against its lead. The dog gave a yelp of pain.

  A voice said out of the darkness.

  “What’s the matter with it?”

  “After rabbits I guess,” the guard said angrily. “Stop it, you brute!”

  “Better let it loose,” his companion said. “Someone might have got in.”

  “Don’t talk wet. No one can get in. If I let it go, I’ll never get it back again.” There came the sound of lash thumping on the dog’s back and the dog yelped again. “Now, stop it!”

  The two guards moved on, and Corridon drew in a deep breath. As soon as the glowing end of the cigarette disappeared he got to his feet and sprinted across the lawn.

  Somewhere behind him he heard a dog barking, and guessed the dog he had stunned had recovered. By now he had reached the stack-pipe leading to his window. He stepped carefully across the flower-bed, got a grip on the pipe and began the hazardous climb.

  More dogs began to bark. He heard running footfalls along the gravel drive. Silently, sweat on his face, he continued up the pipe, pulling himself up soundlessly.

  “Something’s up,” he heard one of the guards shout. “Let the dog loose, Jack!”

  Corridon’s hand reached out and caught the sill of his window. He pulled himself in, as a loud, clanging bell began to ring somewhere in the house.

  He began tearing off his clothes. Outside he could hear confused shouting, and suddenly the grounds were lit up by two powerful searchlights. Hastily he scrambled into his pyjamas, hung his clothes in the cupboard, then went to the door, removed the chair and opened it.

  Standing in her doorway, looking across at him was Kara. She gave him a sneering little smile.

  “Just managed to get back in time, didn’t you?” she said. Her mouth was swollen and bruised, and her eyes glittered.

  “Been dreaming?” Corridon said casually. “You’d better go back to bed before someone blacks your eye.”

  Her face paled, and her lips came off her teeth. She looked like a snarling cat.

  “All right, Mr. Corridon,” she said. “I can wait. Before very long I’m going to get even with you.” She turned and slammed her bedroom door.

  Corridon grimaced. As he moved back into his room, Ames appeared at the end of the corridor.

  “What are you doing?” he exclaimed, hurrying towards him. “Have you been out?”

  “Out?” Corridon repeated blankly. “Why should I go out?”

  Ames made an impatient gesture.

  “Someone’s been in the grounds.” His hard eyes searched Corridon’s face. “One of the dogs has been hurt.”

  “Anything I can so?”

  Ames shook his head.

  “No, the guards can take care of it. Get back to bed. When the alarm bell rings no one is allowed out of their rooms.”

  As Corridon moved back into his room, Ames said. “What did Kara want?”

  “She also thought I was out.” Corridon said and grinned. “I wonder what gave her that idea.”

  Ames looked at him suspiciously, and still smiling, Corridon shut the door gently in his face.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I

  Well, this is it, Corridon thought as he walked down the stairs to the hall. No backing out now.

  Although he had rehearsed MacAdams and Chicho again and again until they went through their routine like robots, he knew there was still the possibility that one of them would do something unexpected that might cost Ritchie his life. And now the operation was about to begin, Corridon wished he hadn’t undertaken the
job. In spite of Ritchie’s dictatorial ways, Corridon was fond of him. He was confident Ritchie could take care of MacAdams, but he wasn’t at all sure if he, himself, could take care of Chicho.

  In the hall Homer, Ames, Kara, MacAdams, and Chico were waiting for him.

  “All set?” Ames asked as Corridon joined them.

  “Yes,” Corridon said, his face expressionless. “There’s just one point. If we run into trouble, we may have to take a roundabout route to Marble Arch gate. You’ll be there at ten-thirty. I want you to wait half an hour. If none of us arrive by then, will you drive round the park and return at half-past eleven? Wait until midnight. If none of us show up by then you’ll know we’re not going to show up. All right?”

  Ames nodded.

  “Then I think I’ve covered everything,” Corridon said. “I’m ready, if you three are.”

  He was conscious of Kara’s eyes on his face, but he avoided looking at her. He turned to Chicho.

  “You sit with Kara. MacAdams and I will sit at the back.”

  While Kara and Chicho were getting into the car, Corridon said to Homer, “Keep your fingers crossed. They’ve been well drilled. I can’t think of anything that can possibly go wrong.”

  Homer flashed his yellow teeth.

  “You’ve done well. Good luck and safe return.” He offered his fat, moist hand. As Corridon shook it, Homer went on, “There’s just one little thing before you go. It’s been suggested you are carrying a gun. We feel that isn’t necessary. Would you please give it to me?”

  Corridon grinned at him, blessing Marian for foreseeing just this situation.

  “But I haven’t a gun,” he said and held up his arms. “Go ahead and see for yourself.”

  With a slightly apologetic expression on his face, Ames stepped forward and ran his hands expertly over Corridon’s clothes. Then he stepped back, shacking his head.

  “I told you she was making mischief,” he growled to Homer.

  “Dear Kara again?” Corridon said and laughed. “Never mind, at least she’s a tryer.”