"What?"
"Nothing. Listen, I'm worried about Wheeler. Probably he moved that car to another spot, but I wish I knew for sure."
"It's a squad car, isn't it?" I asked.
"Yes."
"With two-way radio?"
"Yes, but I haven't got a radio in here."
"We got a telephone. If you're worried about Wheeler--and you're getting me that way too--why don't you phone Headquarters and have them call Wheeler and phone you back?"
"Either you're a genius or I'm a dope," he said. "Don't tell me which."
He got up out of the chair and I could see he was still holding the gun in his hand. He went first to the door and listened carefully, then he went to the window.
He listened carefully there. Finally, he pulled back the shade a crack to look out.
"Now you're giving me the willies, and I might as well get up," I said. "For some reason, I'd rather get killed with my pants on--if I'm going to get killed." I looked at my cat. "Sorry, Beautiful," I said as I pulled my feet out from under the Siamese.
I took off my pajamas and started putting on my shirt and trousers.
"Wheeler's car still isn't anywhere I can see," Jack said.
He went over to the telephone and lifted the receiver off the hook. I slipped my feet into a pair of loafers and looked over. He was still holding the receiver and hadn't spoken. He put it back gently. "Someone's cut the wires," he said. "The line is dead."
The Cat
I said, "I don't believe this. It's out of a horror program on the radio. It's a gag."
Jack snorted. He was turning around, looking from the window to the door.
"Got a flashlight?"
"Yes. In the drawer over there."
"Get it," he said. "Then sit back in that corner where you're not in direct range from the window or the door. If either opens, bracket it with your flash. I've got my flash but I'm using it left-handed. Anyway, two spots are better than one, and I want to see to shoot straight."
While I was getting the flashlight, he closed the door to the other room, leaving us in pitch darkness except for our flashes. I lighted my own way to the chair he'd pointed out.
"There's a window in that other room," I said. "Is it locked?"
"Yes," he answered. "He can't get in there without breaking that window.
Okay, turn out that light and sit tight."
I heard him move across the room to another corner. His flash-light played briefly first on the door to the hallway, then swept across to the window. Then it went out.
"Wouldn't the advantage be with us if we kept the light on?" I asked.
"No. Listen, if he busts in the window, when you aim your flash at it, hold it out from your body, out over the arm of your chair. So if he shoots at the flash, he won't hit you. Our two lights should blind him. We should be able to see him, but he shouldn't be able to see us."
"Okay," I said.
I don't know how many minutes went by. Then there was a soft tapping at the window. I tensed in my chair and aimed the flashlight at the window without turning it on.
The tapping came again. An irregular series: tap-- tap--tap--tap.
"That's Wheeler," Jack whispered. "It's the code tap. Cole couldn't possibly know it. Sit tight."
I could hear him moving across the room in the darkness. I could see the streak of grayness as he cautiously lifted one side of the shade, then peered through the crack between shade and window. As quietly as he could, he raised up the shade and unlocked and raised the window.
It was turning slightly gray outside, and a little light came from the street lamp a quarter of a block away. I could recognize the big body of Wheeler coming through the window. Wheeler, and not Alister Cole.
I began breathing again. I got up out of the chair and went over to them.
Wheeler was whispering.
". . . So don't put down the windows," he was saying. "I'll come in that way again."
"I'll leave it up to Brian," Jack whispered back. "If he wants to take that chance. Meanwhile, you watch that window."
He pulled me to one side then, away from the open window. "Listen," he said.
"Wheeler saw somebody moving in back. He'd moved his car where he could watch part of the back yard. He got there in time to see a window going down. Alister Cole's inside the building. Wheeler's got an idea now, only it's got a risk to it. I'll leave it up to you. If you don't like it, he'll go out again and get help, and we'll sit tight here, as we were until help comes."
"What's the idea?" I asked. If it wasn't too risky, I'd like it better than another vigil while Wheeler went for help.
"Wheeler," Jack said, "thinks he should walk right out of the door into the hall and out the front door. He thinks Cole will hear that, and will think I'm leaving you.
Wheeler will circle around the house and come in the window again. Cole should figure you're here alone and come in that hallway door--and both Wheeler and I will be here to take him. You won't be taking any risk unless by some chance he gets both of us. That isn't likely. We're two to one, and we'll be ready for him"
I whispered back that it sounded good to me. He gripped my arm.
"Go back to your chair then. That's as good a place as any."
Groping my way back to the chair, I heard Jack and Wheeler whispering as they went toward the hallway door. They were leaving the window open and, since it was momentarily unguarded, I kept my eyes on it, ready to yell a warning if a figure appeared there. But none did.
The hallway door opened and closed quickly, letting a momentary shaft of light into the room. I heard Jack back away from the door and Wheeler's footsteps going along the hallway. I heard the front door open and close, Wheeler's steps cross the porch.
A moment later, there was the soft tap--tap-tap--tap on the upper pane of the open window, and then Wheeler's bulk came through it.
Very, very quietly, he closed the window and locked it. He pulled down the shade. Then I heard the shuffle of his footsteps as he moved into position to the right of the door.
I haven't any idea how long we waited after that. Probably five or ten minutes--but it seemed like hours. Then I heard, or thought I heard, the very faintest imaginable sound. It might have been the scrape of shoes on the carpet of the hall outside the door. But there wasn't any doubt about the next sound. It was the soft turning of the knob of the door. It turned and held. The door pushed open a crack, then a few inches. Light streamed over a slowly widening area.
Then one thing Jack hadn't counted on happened. A hand reached in, between the door and the jamb, and flicked on the light switch. Dazzling light from the bulks in the ceiling almost blinded me. And it was in that blinding second that the door swung back wide and Alister Cole, knife in one hand and single-shot target pistol in the other, stood in the doorway. His eyes flashed around the room, taking in all three of us. But then his eyes centered on me and the target pistol lifted.
Jack stepped in from the side and a blackjack was in his up-raised hand. It swung down and there was a sound like someone makes thumping a melon. He and Wheeler caught Alister Cole, one from each side, and eased his way down to the carpet.
Wheeler bent over him and got the gun and the knife first, then held his hand over Cole's heart.
"He'll be all right," he said.
He took a pair of handcuffs from his hip pocket, rolled Cole over and cuffed his hands together behind him. Then he straightened, picking up the gun he'd put down on the carpet while he worked on Cole.
I'd stood up, my knees still shaking a little. My forehead felt as though it was beaded with cold sweat. The flashlight was gripped so tightly in my right hand that my fingers ached.