The Kidnapper (13 page)

I would have liked to have stayed and watch some more, but then I remembered what I had to do. To hell with twenty years ago—tonight was what counted!

Tonight was the night I got the dough.

Chapter Fifteen

I
drove into the barn at exactly eight o’clock on the head. There hadn’t been a sign of anything wrong, all the way over. No more roadblocks, no squad cars cruising, nothing. I’d taken the back road first, instead of coming straight in, just in case they were over there. But it was clear.

Now I parked and climbed out. Four more hours to go. That was a long time.

But I had things to do. I walked down the drive, scrunching gravel, and checked the mailbox. It was empty. I left it open.

Then I peeked in the windows of the house. There was no glass and I could look straight through to the other side. Nobody there.

So far so good.

Something made a noise off in the field, but it was only an owl. I moved back along the path, took out a cigarette. No—it wasn’t a good idea to smoke. It made a light and besides they’d look for butts.

I checked the barn door to see that I could clear the sides if I had to leave in a hurry. It was all right.

Then I left the car standing there inside and took a walk down the road. I hugged the ditch. In my blue suit nobody could see me if I had to hide down there.

I walked all the way to one crossroads and back. Nobody there.

Then I walked back, passing the house and making another checkup before I went on, to the other crossroads. That was clear, too. It was almost half past nine before I finished and got back.

Now I tried the woods. I didn’t go in, just sneaked around the edges. It was real dark in there, and awful quiet. But I guessed it was safe.

At ten I went back to the car and tried to sit down, but I couldn’t hold still. The barn smelled awful, and it was warm in there—oh, what the hell, let’s face it, I was just too damned nervous to sit still. I kept having to go outside; I felt like a kid that has to wet his pants all the time.

And sweating. I was soaked under the arms and in the crotch, too.

So I took another walk to one crossroads, then back to the other. It killed time, and I wanted to make sure. I was pretty certain that if anybody was coming to plant themselves there, they’d arrive before eleven. So as to be hidden by the time they expected me to show up.

I couldn’t see hide or hair of anyone, so I came back again, cased the house once more, and settled down in the car. It was a little past eleven.

Less than an hour to go.

I reached into the glove compartment and took out a flashlight. I didn’t intend to use it unless I had to, but I wanted it ready, just in case.

Then I reached in again, and took out the gun. It was my rod, the one I’d given Specs for the snatch the other day. I owned it about six years, and it wasn’t hot to begin with.

I didn’t intend to use this, either, but I sure as hell wanted it handy. I checked to see it was loaded and pulled the safety.

Quarter after. Forty-five minutes to go. That damned owl was screeching again.

I couldn’t help but hear it, because I was listening for every sound that came along. And I was staring out the door at the road, watching shadows.

I wondered about the money, now. How could old man Warren get hold of that much cash in a hurry? Well, that was his lookout. He ran this big bank, they’d have a lot stashed away. And he could get some from other banks, he could even send away to towns nearby and pick up the rest today. He’d better have done it.

Come to think of it, just counting the stuff would take a lot of time. He’d have to have about a dozen people at least, just sitting there and counting it out. Two hundred thousand dollars!

I’d had to figure pretty close on that, too—just what to hit him for. At first I thought a hundred or a hundred and fifty, tops. Until I took a look at his income tax figures, and doped out what he probably had laid away. He must be worth a half million, anyhow. And two hundred grand was cheap enough, to get his kid back.

Of course, his kid wasn’t coming back.

That was tough. But it wasn’t my fault. She did it herself. Hell, you can’t think of everything, you can’t.

Anyhow, I’d been smart. I’d guessed right about the money. It wasn’t too much. And it was a sweet little amount for a guy like me to latch onto.

If he really got it, and if he really brought it.

Well, he would. He
had
to.

Quarter to twelve. Only fifteen more minutes. I hadn’t realized how quickly the time would fly.

I heard it then, far away. The car motor, coming from my left. Coming fast.

The gun was in my right hand. I switched to the left, so I could stay at the wheel and point it out of the window. I slipped the key into the ignition. I was ready now.

Then I saw the lights down the straightaway. Coming closer. I had to look, but the lights were blinding me. I looked past them, trying to see what was behind them. Just one set.

Here it was. But it wasn’t slowing down! It just kept whizzing right by. The dirty, damned double-crosser!

Then I looked at my watch. Only five minutes to. Of course, what was wrong with me? It was somebody else’s car passing. After all, this wasn’t a private road or anything.

I settled down again. I watched the radium-paint hand move up to twelve, meet the other hand there. The watch was ticking loud, and I could hear my heart going, too.

All at once lights caught my eye, on the right. A single set of them again. I heard the car coming, doing about thirty or even less.

This was it.

A big Packard nosed along, hugging the side of the road. When it was almost abreast of the farm, it cut down to dim lights, then stopped. The motor was still running.

The door opened, and a man got out, crossing over. It was hard for me to make him out, but he walked slow and he was carrying something. He lifted a big package up and shoved it into the mailbox.

Then he stood there for a minute, just looking at the house and at the barn. I was ready and waiting, in case he moved closer. But he didn’t try anything. I watched him turn around, get back into the car, slam the door shut.

The car drove away.

The lights disappeared, the noise of the motor died out. I opened my door, watching the little red tail-lights way off until they winked out.

I started forward, then changed my mind and got back into the car. I drove down the gravel driveway and turned right at the mailbox.

Then I slid across the seat, still holding the gun, and opened the door on the right-hand side. I reached out and lifted the package from the mailbox. It was even heavier than I’d figured it would be, and wrapped in brown paper tied with twine.

I dumped it down in the seat next to me, closed the door, slid back under the wheel and started up. I made a U-turn and cut my lights all the way.

Then I went back down the drive, past the barn, and headed through the field in back. It was dark there—I had to keep going slow, not more than fifteen. But I came out on the other road at last, turned left and kept going until I could cut over to the main highway.

Nobody stopped me, nobody was tailing me. It was clear sailing all the way.

When I got back to the cottage it was 12:45 on the head. The shades were all pulled but the lights were on, and when I turned in I could see the two of them standing at the door.

I drove past and put the car in the garage. I turned on the light, reached over and ripped at the twine with my right hand. It came loose. I ripped the paper off the top.

Then I saw the bills. They were in bundles, tens, and twenties, packed just as tight as could be.

I picked up the package and got out of the car. At the last minute I realized I was still holding the gun in my left hand, had been holding it all this while. I put it away.

Then I was out of the garage, walking up the path to the door.

Mary and Specs came down the steps to meet me.

“Thank God!” she whispered. “You’re safe!”

Specs stared at the package.

“You got it!” His voice cracked, almost as if he was laughing. “You got the dough!”

It was hard for me to hear them talk because the sounds seemed to come from far away. The package in my arms was heavy, but I could scarcely feel it. I hadn’t really felt anything all the way back here.

They both looked at me, expecting me to say something. I started to smile, started to nod, and then all at once everything was slipping away and I blacked out.

Chapter Sixteen

W
hen I opened my eyes, they had me propped up on the sofa in the front room and Specs was saying, “Here, drink this!” and holding a glass of whiskey under my nose.

I swallowed some of it and the rest ran down the front of my shirt.

“Darling, are you all right?” Mary had a cold towel on my forehead, and she looked worried.

“Sure. It’s just excitement. Where’s the dough?”

She nodded towards the kitchen. I could see through the door, where it was lying on the table.

“Don’t try to move,” she said. “Just rest, now.”

“Rest, hell!” I sat up. “This is what I’ve been waiting for. Come on, let’s go!”

I got up. My knees were a little wobbly, but I moved. They followed me into the kitchen. “Lock the door,” I said. “Mary, bring me that carton from under the sink.”

She brought over one of the empty cartons we’d hauled groceries in.

I was ripping the rest of the twine and paper off. The money spilled out over the table, covered it in a heap that must have been over a foot high.

The three of us just looked at it for a minute.

“Jesus!” Specs shook his head. “Think of it, two hundred grand. I never seen so much dough in all my life!”

“Don’t be bashful.” I grinned. “Help yourself. It’s all ours. Come on, you two, start counting.”

The money lay there under the light, bundle after bundle of it. It was something to run your hands through, something to feel all that cash, pick it up, hold it, and say to yourself, “Here’s a trip to Europe,” or “A hundred twenties, enough for a new car.” And you could do it over and over again, each time thinking of something else to buy, to have, to own. Some of the bills were brand new, and the light was shining down on them all green and beautiful. It was enough to make you drunk, just to see the stuff, feel how crisp it was, and even to smell it.

Best of all was the counting. I counted fast. I counted $114,000 while the other two just counted $86,000 between them. I made Mary check it over again when we finished. It was all there, and it was all ours.

“I can’t hardly believe it,” Specs said. “No sir, I can’t hardly believe it.” He stared at the piles of bills.

“Neither can I.” Mary was staring, too. “It’s just like a dream.”

“Well it’s real,” I told them. “Every bit of it. And we’ve earned it. Now let’s put it away where we can all be sure it’s safe.”

“Aren’t you going to divide it up now?”

“What for, Specs? You going anyplace tonight?”

“No, but—”

“Don’t be childish.” I swept it off the table into the cardboard carton Mary had brought for me. “This goes into the trunk of the Olds. That’s the best place for it.”

“Okay,” said Specs. “I guess you’re right. Just so we all know where it is.”

“What the hell, you want it now, you can have it. Keep it under your pillow if you like.”

“Aw, don’t talk that way, Steve. You know I trust you.” Specs came over to me and slapped me on the back. “I sure got to hand it to you, the way you pulled this thing off. It took a lot of nerve.”

“I told you we’d do it. And the big thing is teamwork.” I grinned down at him, then looked at Mary. “But say, this calls for a celebration. How about fixing up a drink while I take this out?”

“Sure, Steve.”

I picked up the carton and started for the door. Specs ran after me. “Hey, wait, you dropped a pile of tens!”

“Who cares?” I said. “It’s only money.”

Then all three of us started laughing. I went out and stowed the cash away in the trunk compartment, locking it after. When I came back, Mary had the whiskey and the coke on the table.

All of us were feeling keyed-up with the excitement, and we drank fast. It didn’t take too long before we were pretty high. For the first time, I felt like drinking myself. I loaded up with the two of them. Mary poured into water-glasses and we’d dump coke on top of that. She kept the glasses filled up.

When the first bottle was empty, she got out the second and opened it. Then she came over and sat on my lap and ruffled my hair.

“Oh boy!” Specs said. “Could I go for some of that!”

“You’ll get your chance,” I told him. “Soon’s we head out of here.”

“When we going, lover?” Mary put her head on my shoulder. “Tomorrow?”

“Day or so. Don’t bother about it now. Here, finish your drink.”

“Boy, I wish that Terry was here now.” Specs leaned over the table, pouring himself another. “Maybe we can take her along with us, hey Steve?”

“Don’t talk crazy. You know we can’t do a thing like that. But you don’t have to worry—with what you got, you can line yourself up with a real number.”

“Terry’s all right with me.” Specs took a swallow. “What’s wrong with her, Steve? What you got against Terry? Maybe she’s skinny, but she’s the best goddam—”

“Here, watch your language!” I said.

Mary giggled. “That’s okay. It doesn’t bother me. I know what he means.”

“Sure you do.” Specs took off his glasses. “You know what’s wrong with you, Steve? You think too much. That’s the trouble with you. Never stop thinkin’. Never relax, let your hair down. Never have a good time.”

“Oh yes he does,” Mary said. “Don’t you, lover?” She breathed in my ear.

“That’s right.”

“We’ll have plenty good times,” Mary said. “From now on, no more trouble, just good times.”

“Check,” I said.

“And you know why?” she said. “Because Steve. That’s why. Because Steve. He thought it all up. All out of his own beau’ful curly head. Every bit of it! Wasn’ for him, what we have? Nothing! Now what we got? Two hundred thousand dollars, that’s what. And don’ you forget it, you Specs!”