The Shadowers

XIV

THE ROAD I PICKED to turn off on was just two ruts among the trees. It ran straight back into a patch of timber that promised adequate cover. I drove off the highway a reasonable distance but not so far that the Renault couldn't be spotted by someone with sharp eyes driving by.

Stopping, I took Olivia into my arms. It was supposed to look very passionate from a distance-after all, we'd just got married, and a little private clinch was in order-but the French, for all their sexy reputation, must not go in for that stuff much or they wouldn't put the handbrake and gearshift lever where they do.

Still, it wasn't exactly a mechanical performance. I mean, we were both human and we'd spent some time in the same bed the night before. She still knew where the noses went. I was aware of traffic on the highway, but I won't claim I kept an accurate count of every car that went past. We were both a bit breathless when the time came to break.

"One of these days," I said, releasing her, "one of these days we'll have to do that just for fun, Doc. Scene Two coming up. Do you have a blanket on board?"

"Blanket?" She had her hands to her hair. She wasn't looking at me. There was color in her cheeks, and she looked just like a woman who'd been kissed and not at all like a scientific institution. "No, I'm afraid there's no blanket. Why?"

"Don't be innocent," I said. "Because of what would follow naturally between two newlyweds in a secluded spot like this, that's why. Because of what obviously can't be done in a car this size by a man my size. Well, my topcoat will have to do. Leave your damn hair alone and come on."

I grabbed the coat from the rear seat, got out, and joined her on the other side of the car, putting my arm around her to make it look good if somebody was watching. A vehicle went past on the highway doing at least eighty; that one wasn't looking out for anything but cops. I led her toward a patch of brush that offered privacy. Inside there was enough space at the foot of a big pine to spread my coat. Olivia sat down and checked her stockings for snags, then looked up smiling.

"I'm not supposed to be thinking of my appearance, am I?"

Her voice was cool and steady now, and I found myself wondering if that was really what she'd been thinking. It wasn't my idea, she'd said. You'll have no right to complain that I tricked or deceived you. It was as clear a warning as I could expect.

It was a hell of a case, I reflected. Nobody was really acting right, not Kroch, not the woman who was supposed to be my partner in the assignment, the woman who was now, according to law, my wife. Even Mooney, the lightweight, couldn't seem to stay in character either as a sincere lover or a panicky seducer or a cowardly accomplice. And in some respects I wasn't being very consistent myself, although I preferred not to examine that idea too closely.

I said, businesslike: "If anybody's shadowing us, he's had plenty of time to go past. We'll assume he spotted us smooching in the car."

"Kroch knows what you are," Olivia interrupted. "The passionate love scene isn't likely to have fooled him, is it? Any more than our hasty marriage?"

I said, watching her, "Let's not go overboard on this Kroch theory, Doc. He's our best bet, true, but he's acting very oddly. And if there should be somebody else, neither Kroch nor Mooney-"

She frowned quickly. "Who?"

"I don't know," I said. "But there's something in this damn case that I'm overlooking, and until I find it I'm not going to settle on Herr Kroch to the exclusion of everything else. And if it's Kroch following us, no harm is done. He'll naturally have some doubts about the sincerity of our display of passion; he'll wonder just who the hell we think we're fooling. He'll be puzzled. So much the better. He'll have all the more reason to want to find out what we're really up to in here. Let's hope he parks up ahead and comes sneaking back for a look. If he does, your job is to make him think we're both right here in this thicket. I leave the details to your imagination." I paused, and took my compact.38 Special out of my pocket. "One more thing. Have you ever been checked out on one of these, Doc?"

She shook her head. "No. Do I have to-"

"Something could go wrong. I was told you were valuable government property out on loan to us, to be returned in good condition. If there's trouble, I want you to have this."

"What about you?"

"Hell, I can't use a gun on him. I have to take him alive. But he's tough and experienced and he could get away from me and come for you. That's what the gun is for. It sounds like the crack of doom and it kicks like Tennessee white lightning, so hold it with both hands and don't let the uproar scare you. It holds five shots. Point it where you want to shoot and pull the trigger five times and once more for luck. Don't sit around waiting to see what the first shot will do. Just keep shooting till it clicks empty. Okay?"

She licked her lips, took the gun gingerly, and looked it over. "Okay, Paul. Where's the safety?"

I said, "You've been reading too many books, Doc. This is a revolver. If it had a safety I'd have told you. All you have to do is pull the trigger. Don't talk, don't threaten, don't warn, don't hesitate, just shove the thing out ahead of you and open up. If he comes in here after you. That'll mean I wasn't as good in the woods as I thought. You can't take him alone so don't try. But remember, we want him alive if it can possibly be arranged so don't shoot unless he's really coming for you." I started to turn away and stopped. "Just one more thing. We also want me alive if it can be arranged. At least I do. I'll sing out before I get too close. The password is still 'flattop.' Don't get nervous and blow my head off by mistake."

"I… I'll be careful." Her voice was a little shaky.

"Scared?" I asked.

She smiled faintly. "Just a little. Do you think he'll really come?"

"If there is a shadow-Kroch or somebody else-and if he gets curious enough, he'll come," I said. "If. That's one question. How far he'll come is another. We'll give it a full hour. Go into your act if you hear somebody out here."

I looked at her sitting on my spread-out coat, looking lost and out of place in the woods in her smart jersey dress-her wedding dress, as things had turned out- and her nylons and high heels, with the murderous little revolver in her hands. I found myself remembering, for some reason, Harold Mooney, the man she claimed to love, screaming silently into the twisted towel as she went into his arm without anesthetic. I'm not a very nice person, she'd said.

"Well, take it easy, Doc," I said, and slipped away.

He took forty-seven minutes to make up his mind, counting from the moment I left her. Lying in damp pine needles with a downed tree for shelter, I saw him coming, moving silently through the woods at the edge of the highway. It was Kroch, all right. So much for my fancy theories.

Anyway, he thought he was moving silently, but he didn't really like it and wasn't very good at it. Basically, I could see, he was a city man, a street man, a dark-alley man. He liked traffic, he liked cars, he liked shadowy doorways and narrow stairs. He liked abusing little girls in attic studios.

He didn't like trees and brush and pine needles and the soft uneasy murmur of the wind and the nervous chattering of a squirrel somewhere in the distance. The cawing of a lone crow cruising by at treetop height made him freeze and wait until he'd identified the sound by spotting the flying bird. A crow, for God's sake. You'd think anybody'd know a crow.

I lay behind my log and watched him and knew it wasn't going to work. He was acting too wary; he wasn't going to come in far enough to let me deal with him without risking interference from the highway. He'd seen the empty car but he was too smart to go near it. He was Karl Kroch and he'd had traps set for him before. He knew I was somewhere around, waiting.

He'd thrown me a challenge in New Orleans, to be sure; he'd sent me his name and a vainglorious message via Antoinette Vail. It was kid stuff, but it didn't mean he was going to give me any careless breaks in the showdown. He knew this wasn't the right place for him. I'd picked the terrain, therefore I must like it. He didn't. To hell with Olivia Mariassy and the shadowing job, for the time being. To hell with me.

He turned and went back the way he'd come. Well, it had been a lot to hope for. Presently I heard a car start up in the distance and drive away. I was supposed to hear that. I didn't think he'd be going far.

I got up and brushed myself off and went back to the patch of bushes with the pine tree growing out of it. Olivia must have heard me coming because her voice reached me, low but audible: "Darling, please! How do you expect me to get my dress back on if you… Ah, don't, that tickles!" She laughed softly.

"Coming in," I said. "Flattop, like in aircraft carrier."

She was silent. I went in through the brush and found her sitting on my coat as I'd left her, fully dressed of course, holding the gun with both hands. It was aimed right at my chest. I stood quite still until the muzzle dropped.

She laughed again, a little embarrassed. "I thought it might be… You told me to go into my act if I heard somebody."

"Sure."

"Did you… what happened? Did you see anybody?" "Yes, I saw him."

She looked up quickly. "Who?"

"It was Kroch after all," I said. "Maybe we've proved something. But he didn't like the setup. He sensed something wrong and flared off like a duck."

"So it's still left to be done." She drew a long breath and rose and looked down at the gun in her hand. "You'd better carry this, hadn't you?" she said, giving it to me. She watched me start to put it away. "Paul?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like you to show me how to open it."

I hesitated. She was watching me with an odd kind of intentness. I said, "Sure," and brought the weapon out again. "You just use your thumb on the latch like this and the cylinder swings out… like this."

There was a little silence. She looked down at the weapon, open in my hand. She said quietly, "It isn't loaded, is it?"

"No," I said. "It isn't loaded, Doc." I took the cartridges from my pocket and started feeding them into the empty chambers.

"You weren't really trying to trap him, were you?"

I said, "I wanted to see if he was there. If he'd come in close, I'd have taken him if I could. I didn't really expect him to come in. It was too obvious a trap to catch a pro."

"But you were really testing me." Her voice was quite even. "Weren't you?"

I looked up from the gun. Her eyes met mine steadily. Even with the glasses on, they were pretty nice eyes. She was rather an attractive person, when she didn't have that grim, haggard, arrogant look, I reflected. Or maybe I was just getting used to her.

"You raised some disturbing possibilities with that last mysterious speech you made," I said. "I had to check them. Sooner or later I may have to turn my back on a loaded gun held by you, Doc, and I probably won't have time to worry about you then."

I expected her to be angry, or at least moderately resentful. To my surprise, she laughed, took a step forward and rose on tiptoe to kiss me on the mouth.

"You know, I could get quite fond of you, Corcoran or whatever your name is," she said, smiling. "You haven't an ounce of romance or chivalry in your makeup, and you don't know how refreshing that is to a lady who's been a sucker for moonlight and roses. Come on, let's go home. I'm going to make you carry me over the threshold for the benefit of the neighbors."

She did, too. It was a small, standardized house with a picture window in a development with winding streets laid out with a French curve by an architect who'd read in a magazine that straight streets were passй. Nevertheless, for a development, it didn't look too bad; and the house didn't look too bad, either, although I'm not really a picture-window man at heart. When we got inside, the phone was ringing.