‘Carol!’ he said. ‘Quick, darling. Get me free.’
She ran to him, dropped on her knees beside him, her arms going round him.
‘Are you hurt?’ she asked, her face close to his. ‘Tell me you’re not hurt.’
‘It’s all right, but get me undone quickly. We’re in bad trouble, kid.’
‘Dear Steve,’ she said, her lips brushed his cheek. ‘I was so frightened.’
‘It’s all right,’ he assured her, ‘but get me undone.’
She pulled at the cords, but the knots were too tight and she ran to the kitchen, snatched up a knife. On her way back to the sitting-room she picked up Steve’s jacket, struggled into it, buttoned it across her.
‘Hurry, Carol,’ Steve called as she ran into the room. ‘They’ll be back.’
She slashed the cords and Steve struggled up, rubbed his wrists, smiled at her.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ he said. ‘But we’ve got to be quick...’
She went to him, her arms going round his neck.
‘I love you, Steve,’ she said. ‘I was so frightened when I saw those two. I thought... I don’t know what I’d do without you...’
He drew her to him and kissed her.
For a moment of time they stood close, their lips touching, then he gently pushed her away from him.
‘I’ve loved you all along, kid,’ he said. ‘But we mustn’t waste time. Come on, we’ve got to get away. Get your clothes on and be quick.’
She ran into her bedroom, and Steve went out on to the verandah, looked across the yard. There was no sign of the Sullivans. He stood there, waiting, and in a moment or so Carol joined him. She was wearing her wool dress and there was a serene trusting look in her eyes as she ran to him.
‘We’ve got to get their car,’ Steve said, slipping his arm round her. ‘Keep in the shadows and run...’
Together they ran down the verandah steps and across the yard. They could see the outline of the big Packard at the top of the road.
‘We’re going to do it,’ Steve said, slipped his arm round Carol and rushed her across the open ground into the moonlight.
The Sullivans, coming out of the wood at that moment, saw them.
Max shouted.
‘Quick, Carol!’ Steve panted. ‘Can you drive?’
‘Yes,’ she returned, ‘but we go together. I won’t leave you...’
‘I’m coming, but go ahead. I’ll try to stall them. Get the engine started. Run like hell, kid!’
‘Stop!’ Max shouted, a sharp threatening note in his voice.
Steve paused, turned to face them.
The Sullivans began to run towards him. He heard Carol start the Packard, and he spun on his heel, ran to the car.
Max shot from his hip.
Steve lurched, stumbled, reached the open door of the car as Max fired again.
‘I’m hit, kid!’ he gasped, pitched forward into the car, falling across Carol.
Blood from him ran across her hand.
Frantically she pushed him upright, saw the two Sullivans coming across the moonlit yard very fast. She roared the engine, released the clutch and the car swept forward.
Max stopped, raised his gun, but Frank grabbed his arm.
‘Have a heart,’ he said. ‘Not at her... not at six million bucks.’
‘But she’s getting away,’ Max said, lifting his shoulders in a disgusted shrug.
‘We’ll find her again,’ Frank returned. ‘We always find ’em. She’s worth a little trouble... she and her dough.’
They watched the tail light of the Packard flash down the mountain road to the valley.
Chapter Three
To the north of Point Breese, spotted among the low-lying hills at the foot of the mountain range, are the country estates of the wealthy.
Phil Magarth drove recklessly along one of these hill roads, swung his battered Cadillac with a scream of tortured tyres off the road and down a long twisty carriage-way that led to Veda Banning’s spacious Spanish-style house with its white stucco walls and red tiles.
Veda was known as the bad girl of Point Breese, but in spite of her reputation she was liked and she had a lot of fun. She was rich; ran a five-thousand-acre orange plantation with smart efficiency, and was crazy about Magarth. She wanted to marry him.
As Magarth stopped the Cadillac before the ornate front door he glanced at his watch. It showed 3.5 a.m. He opened the car door and slid out on to the white-tiled terrace. The house was in darkness, but he knew where Veda slept and walked quickly across the flower-ladened patio, climbed four broad steps to the verandah, stopped short before open french windows.
‘You awake?’ he called, peered into the dark room, where he could just make out the huge ornate bed in which Veda slept.
No movement came from the bed and he entered the room, sat on the bed and slid his hand under the bedclothes. There was a sudden flurry, a stifled shriek and Veda sat up, snapped on the light.
‘For heaven’s sake!’ she exclaimed, flopped back on her pillow. ‘This is too much... how dare you come in here at this hour?’
‘What’s too much?’ Magarth asked, grinning at her. ‘You always say you’ll be glad to see me... well, here I am; be glad.’
Veda struggled up in bed, stretched, yawned. Magarth admired her figure, which was exceptional.
‘You look swell; good enough to eat, but things are popping. Is that little thing you call your brain awake yet?’
‘There are times when I wonder what I see in you,’ Veda said, reached for a hand mirror on the table beside her, studied herself. She had green-blue eyes, thick lashes, gold-brown hair, hanging straight down past her shoulders and curling under at the ends: hair that looked like burnished copper. She was beautiful, and she knew it. There was a sultry, sulky look to her mouth and dark smudges under her eyes. She could have been younger than twenty-six, but not much.
‘At least I don’t look a fright,’ she said, yawned again, flopped back on her pillow. She had on a low-cut nightdress of blue crepe-de-Chine and black lace. ‘You are hell, Phil,’ she went on. ‘You might have awakened me in a more gentlemanly manner: I bruise so easily.’
‘You should worry: it won’t show,’ Magarth grinned, got up and walked over to the cupboard. He found a bottle of Canadian rye and a glass. ‘The stock’s running low, sugar. You’d better get in some more.’
‘I will,’ Veda said, watching him and thinking how handsome he was. ‘Give me a cigarette, you beast.’
Magarth came back with the bottle, gave her a cigarette, took a drink, lit a cigarette for himself.
‘I’m on to something big,’ he said, sitting on the bed close to her. ‘I could make a fortune out of it if I handle it right. And if I do I might marry you, so listen carefully.’
Veda eyed him from over the top of the blanket.
‘I’ve heard that so many times I could play a flute obbligato to it,’ she said scornfully.
‘But this is the McCoy,’ Magarth told her. ‘I’m after the Blandish girl.’
‘You’re... what?’ Veda demanded, sitting up, her eyes snapping.
‘Now don’t get your nightie in a knot,’ Magarth said hurriedly. ‘This is strictly business. Six days from tomorrow morning she comes into her money... if she isn’t caught before then. I thought at first it’d be smart to help capture her and get an eye-witness account for my syndicate. But now I’ve a smarter idea. I’m going to help her avoid capture, help her get her money. If I steer her right she’ll be grateful, won’t she? I’ll be in on the ground floor. The great American public will want to know what she’ll do with all that dough... six million dollars! And I’ll be there to tell them. I’m going to bring her here. Then when we’ve got the money, we’ll take her around, get her a car, buy her a house, buy her clothes, take a camera-man around with us... it’ll be terrific! Exclusive to my syndicate. I can ask my own terms.’