F.B.I. Showdown: A Classic Suspense Novel. Gordon Landsborough

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СКАЧАТЬ man came round the corner. It was Joe Guestler. He started to say, toughly, suspiciously: “You guys are up to somep’n! Louie says for to tell you it ain’t healthy for guys to do things on their own. If you’re plannin’ a double-cross—”

      Johnny hit him across the chin. Then Egghead brought the flat of his hand down on the staggering Joe Guestler’s head, only in the palm was his automatic. Blood flooded down into Joe’s eyes, but he didn’t know it because he was unconscious as he was falling.

      Working with frantic haste they hoisted Joe into the chute and let him ride down, Then Johnny wiped up a few spots of blood that looked conspicuous on the polished floor and then clambered feet first into the chute and followed their victim, He came down slowly, but all the same his weight, landing on the unconscious Joe, couldn’t have done him any good. Egghead gave Johnny half a minute to get clear, then slid down himself.

      They were in complete darkness, standing on a yielding floor of dirty clothing for the laundry. Both started to push with their hands against the walls of the bin, guns ready for action.

      Johnny suddenly whispered, “Here!” and a crack of light showed. Egghead stumbled across. They pushed a little harder, and a door suddenly gave and they looked into the brightness of a whitewashed loading bay.

      At once someone shouted, “What’re you doin’ there?” and immediately Johnny and Egghead came plunging out, guns raised.

      A couple of uniformed guards were directing the loading of some laundry baskets into the back of the big, cream-painted prison truck. Hefting the baskets were a couple of prisoners. Ironically, one was old Rocky, Johnny’s cellmate.

      Egghead’s voice crackled, “Don’t make a wrong move, none of yer!”

      Four pairs of hands shot up immediately. As Johnny came backing round to where the prisoners were, Old Rocky whispered, “I didn’t know this was the way you planned it. Good for you, Johnny! Don’t forget to see that brother o’ mine!”

      Johnny snapped, “Into that bin,” and shoved the two prisoners into the closet where Joe Guestler lay bleeding among the cloths. The bolt outside wasn’t very strong, but Johnny knew the prisoners wouldn’t start to attract attention for a long time, so as to give them a chance to get away.

      When he turned, Egghead was prodding the two guards into the cab of the truck, Johnny heard him say, thinly, “You want to live longer’n Parry Galowen? Then you do as you’re told, see? Drive out through the gates as if nothing’s happened. We’ll be behind among the baskets, and I’ll be watchin’ your face in the drivin’ mirror, an’ if I see you so much as bat an eyelid, so help me, I’ll give you every round in this gat!”

      The two men looked at each other. Then one said, very earnestly, “Brother, if I so much as cough I’ll know I deserve what’s coming. You betcha we’re gonna be good boys!”

      Johnny covered them while Egghead got in behind the cab, then Egghead covered them while Johnny climbed in among the baskets. The engine started. They didn’t move.

      After a minute Egghead snarled, “What in hades are you waitin’ for?”

      The driver very carefully explained, “What’re we gonna do about them doors? Someone’s gotta open ’em and shut ’em behind us.”

      Egghead snarled to the man next the driver, “Brother, that’s your job. You do it—and remember we’re coverin’ you all the time!”

      The guard got down, opened the big doors and they drove slowly out into the prison compound. Johnny covered him from the back while he slowly, reluctantly closed the doors on the loading bay. Then, even more slowly, much more reluctantly, he came and took his place next to the driver. He didn’t look healthy; perhaps he was thinking of what could be coming to them.

      The driver appeared a calmer, less imaginative man. Obligingly he started across to the big gates, with the armed guards above and all around. Crouching behind the baskets, muscles tautened ready to spring into action, they heard someone call, “Okay?”

      The driver said, “Okay,” and then the truck lurched into motion again. Egghead at once moved forward so that he could see through the windscreen, while Johnny crabbed along the top of the baskets and watched the receding prison gates.

      Egghead called, “Nothin’ wrong, Johnny?”

      Johnny said, “Nothin’ wrong.” He came back, almost purring. He said, “Eggy, that sure was a swell idea of yours! The way them guards is just standin’ around, we’ll be outa the state afore they wise to what’s happened.”

      Egghead said, “Not in this truck. We gotta get a car that can fly.”

      He was looking at the backs of the guards up front, wondering what to do.

      Ten miles out on the Petersburg Highway he gave the order to pull up. Then he made the guards get out. Now even the phlegmatic driver was looking uneasy. His mate started to say, “We did what you said, so you boys needn’t think of gettin’ rough. We’re still cooperative—mighty cooperative!”

      He was looking at those guns. The driver looked at them and said, “Yeah, an’ we’ll still do as you say.”

      Egghead, green-eyed and mean, snarled, “I don’t like them clothes you’re wearin’. I’ve a mind to make two vacancies on the prison staff.”

      Johnny said, “Aw, Eggy, let’s just stuff ’em in a basket. It gets everyone peeved if you kill a warder.”

      The driver’s mate said, “Brother, you don’t know how I welcome those words.”

      Johnny went and hoisted a couple of baskets out on to the side of the road. They made the guards climb in, and then strapped them down and shoved them out of sight into a ditch. That was better than tying them, and much safer.

      Egghead rubbed dirt all over his baldness, so as to make it less conspicuous. They drove another mile, then hid the truck among some trees. The longer it took the police to find the truck, the longer they would be in getting on their trail.

      They walked the few hundred yards through a cornfield and then an orchard, and then came out on a rutty back road.

      Johnny said, “Now, that’s luck,” because there was a smart coupé sitting beside the road waiting for them. They stood in the shade of the fruit trees and looked around for the owner. After a while Johnny spotted a movement up the hillside.

      He grinned. “The guy’s up there, neckin’. He won’t be thinkin’ much about his car, I reckon.”

      Egghead didn’t smile. He never did have any humour. Johnny said, “Give me a minute—I’ll take care of this.”

      A few minutes later, Egghead eased the car into gear and they went slowly down the lane.

      Johnny said, “Where to?”

      Behind them, in the grass on the hillside, the owner of the car lay sprawled on the ground, bereft of his ignition keys and consciousness. A crying girl knelt alongside him, dabbing at the blood on his bruised temple where the butt of Johnny’s automatic had struck him.

      Egghead said, “The heat’ll be on any time now. Reckon we’ll be safer over the Virginia border.” СКАЧАТЬ