Death of a Citizen

CHAPTER 25

AFTER I'd hung up the phone, I sat for a little while looking at the silent instrument. I suppose I was thinking, but there wasn't, when you came right down to it, a great deal to think about. The next move was obvious. Loris had given Beth full instructions: not only what to tell me, but also where to reach me. To know this, the way I'd been moving around the past few days, he had to have a man following me. This man would undoubtedly be standing by right now to see how I reacted, to my wife's phone call.

My orders were to head for home, where further instructions would be waiting by the time I arrived. There wasn't much choice. They'd be waiting for their boy's report. I couldn't even make any useful calls; he might be listening in, somehow. I had to be seen driving off obediently in the right direction, s~ that he could get on the phone and let them know that the first stage had fired properly and the projectile seemed to be headed toward a satisfactory orbit.

I got up and packed my things quickly, loaded them into the rear of the pickup, and climbed into the cab. There was a certain amount of suspense as I drove through the town; I couldn't tell whether or not I was being followed. But he was a thorough workman, and I picked him up in the rear-view mirrors shortly after' we left the city limits. I could hardly miss him. He was driving a new car with one of those four-lamp setups that ought to be banned. They have two beam levels; one merely blinds you temporarily, but the other's a lulu, capable of incinerating the retina and searing the optic nerve if the guy doesn't dim in time, which he generally doesn't, particularly if he's coming up from behind.

This chap was a real mirror-burner-upper. My problem wasn't keeping track of him, it was staying on the road with all four of his searchlights glaring at me from two mirrors. I guess he felt it was his turn to crow. I must have given him a hard run across three states-he may even have thought I'd done it deliberately-and now he was damn well going to escort me on my way in style.

He stuck with me through the first small town west of Dodge; then, suddenly, he was gone. I kept on driving, knowing he'd have to give me at least one chance to pull a fast one before he made his report, or his conscience wouldn't let him sleep. It was a long fifteen minutes; then a car doing at least eighty-five came up from behind and whipped past and went on to the west down that long straight road. 'It was a new white Chevy.

I wasn't sure this was my man, but he was waiting for me up the highway, and fell in step behind me when I passed. We proceeded in this way for another half dozen miles, then he disappeared from my mirrors, and I looked back in time to see him swinging into a roadside joint I'd just passed. I gave him a little time, and turned back, stopping well before I reached the place.

I went ahead on foot. The lights were on, and the white fan-tail Chevy was parked by the building with half a dozen other cars. It was empty; my man was apparently inside.

I had a long wait. I guess, his duty done, his report made, he'd taken time for a coffee and a piece of pie. It probably wasn't a drink, since Kansas has some legislation on that subject, too. At last he came out. I was behind him as he paused by the car door to find his keys. He was a pro; he didn't move when the barrel of the Woodsman touched him in the back.

"Helm?" he said after a moment.

"That's right."

"You're a fool. I've just talked to a certain party in Santa Fe. Any tricks you pull will come out of your little girl's-''

The safety of the gun made a soft snicking sound in the darkness, cutting him short. I said gently, "Don't remind me of things like that, little man. It's very hard on my self-control. My truck's right down the road. Let's go."

I kept him covered while he drove. It was only nine thirty when we pulled up in front of my cabin at the Dodge City tourist court, although it seemed much later. I hated to back-track so far, but it was the only place I could take him without attracting attention, and I needed a temporary headquarters with a phone.

"Lift up the seat," I said after we'd got down from the cab. "There's a roll of wire and a pair of pliers underneath."

He was really a small man, I saw, when I got light on him at last, inside the room with the door closed- a small, shabby, inconspicuous man in a brown suit. He had brown eyes, too. They looked shiny and glassy, like cheap brown marbles. I wired his hands behind him and then I wired his ankles together. He didn't have a gun. I sat down by the phone and made a long distance call. Mac answered right away. It was as though he'd been expecting to hear from me.

I said, "Eric here. The Paradise Cafe, ten miles west of Cimarron, Kansas. A long distance call to Santa Fe, New Mexico, made just before nine o'clock, to what number? When you find out, have the place covered, and call me back."

I gave him the number of my telephone, and hung up. The little man was watching me with expressionless brown eyes.

I said, "You'd better hope he can trace the call. Otherwise, it's up to you."

He laughed scornfully. "You think I'd tell you, mister?"

I took the Solingen from my pocket and started cleaning my fingernails with the long blade. They didn't need cleaning, but it's always an effective menace bit, if not exactly original.

"I think you would," I said without looking up.

He stopped laughing. We waited in silence. After a while I got a magazine and lay down on the bed to read. I won't pretend the stuff made a great deal of sense. It seemed a hell of a long time before the telephone rang. I picked it up.

"Eric speaking."

Mac's voice said, "The call went to Hotel DeCastro, Santa Fe. Mr. Fred Loring."

"That would be Frank Loris?"

"The description fits."

"Is Mr. Loring alone, or does he have a wife and baby daughter with him? Or maybe just.a baby daughter?"

Mac didn't answer at once. Then he said, "That's the play, is it?"

"That's the play," I said.

"What's your answer going to be?"

"I called you, didn't I?" I said.

"Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," I said. There was no choice now. I had to have his help. "Yes, we have a deal."

"You know what I want? You'll make the touch?"

I said, "Don't push it. I know what you want. I'll make the touch. Now, is Loris alone?"

"Yes," Mac said. "He's alone."

I drew a long breath. Well, I hadn't expected it would be that easy. I said,"You've got him covered? I want to be able to put my hand on him any time of the day or night I get there and ask for him."

"He's covered," Mac said. "You'll get him. But remember, it isn't Loris I'm interested in."

I ignored this. "Also," I said, "you'd better send somebody over here with a badge to impress the motel manager. If he's listening at his switchboard, he's apt to be getting nervous. Then there's a white '59 Chevy parked in front of that cafe I mentioned. If you don't want questions asked, better take care of it. Finally, there's the driver of the Chevy. I've got him here with me. Send somebody over here who can be trusted to keep him away from a phone. He's reported me on my way; I don't want him confusing them with any more calls.''

Mac said, "Fortunately, we've been keeping a casual eye on you-from a distance-after we discovered you ~were being followed by somebody else. One of our people is in Dodge City now. I can have him over there in ten minutes."

"One more thing," I said. "I want a fast car. You don't happen to have a stray Jag or Corvette handy?"

Mac laughed. "I'm afraid not, but the man I'm sending over has a fairly fast little Plymouth. I'm told it'll do a hundred and thirty, which should be adequate."

I groaned. "That finned monster I saw down in Texas? Well, okay, if that's the best you can do."

Mac said, "Don't kill yourself on the road. Eric-"

"Yes?"

"We didn't really expect them to have the nerve to return to Santa Fe. We were looking for them elsewhere. Did Loris happen to say what they wanted from you?"

"I didn't talk to him personally," I said. "My wife took the message. But he apparently didn't say anything except that they had the baby and a proposition for me."

"I see." Mac hesitated. Probably he had in mind saying something about how much he trusted me, how greatly he relied upon me to do the right thing, and how deeply grieved he'd be if I should let him down. If so, he strangled the impulse, which was just as well. He said crisply, "All right. When you get to Santa Fe, call this number."

He gave me the number. I wrote it down, and hung up the phone. Then I looked at the man in the brown suit, sitting on the floor in the corner.

He said defiantly, "I'm not worrying a bit, mister. Loris will take you without raising a sweat."

"Loris?" I said. I grinned at him, not very nicely. "Let's not talk about the walking dead, little man."

He looked at me for a moment longer, and started to speak again, but changed his mind. Presently there was a knock at the door. I took my pistol and went to open it, taking the usual precautions. They weren't necessary. It was the kid of the black hat and the sideburns who'd been driving the Plymouth when I saw it last, except that he'd changed his disguise. Now he looked like a college boy. It was a definite improvement, but, then, just about any change would have been.

"Watch that heap," he said. "She looks corny, but she's a ball of fire."

I jerked my head towards the bound man. "See he doesn't get to a phone," I said. "And if you want to drive my truck, here's the key. Use a light foot. That's not a racing mill under the hood, so don't tear it up."

He said, "You've got everything except brakes. They haven't invented those yet in Detroit. Keep it in mind going through the mountains."

I nodded, and went over to get my suitcase out of the rear of the pickup. He went in to his prisoner. We didn't say goodbye.