I
While Ken rowed across the dark, oily water of the estuary, he tried to think how he was going to get Johnny into Adams’ hands without raising Johnny’s suspicions, but the problem defeated him.
Johnny had a gun. He sat in the stern of the boat, watching the outline of the Willow Point as it slowly faded into the darkness, holding the gun in his hand.
“I should have killed that punk,” he said suddenly. “He’ll come after us. I was a mug not to settle him while I had the chance.” He peered at Ken in the dim light of the moon. “Who the hell are you? How did you appear exactly at the right time?”
“My name’s Holland,” Ken said. “I had been told Tux was a good man if you were in trouble. I wanted somewhere safe to hide. As I came alongside the cruiser I heard two men talking. They were arranging to murder you. I thought you might want help, so I horned in.”
“Well, I’ll be damned! You certainly turned up at the right time, but you don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for. Tux won’t forget you. I’m getting out of town. You’d better come with me.”
“Where are you going?”
“I know a guy who’ll lend me a car. We’ll go to Los Angeles. I have friends there.”
“I wouldn’t get far,” Ken said. “The police are looking for me.”
“I’ll get you out of town,” Johnny said. “You leave it to me. You helped me; I’ll help you. The cops in this town are a dumb lot.” He shoved the gun in his hip pocket. “Here, move over. Let me handle one of the oars.”
It took them twenty minutes to reach a lonely stretch of the shore. As Ken got stiffly out of the boat he heard the distant engine of a motorboat.
Johnny heard it too, and he looked across the dark street.
“That’s Solly going back. We’ll have to get under cover fast.
Those two guys will come after us, and they’re a damn sight more dangerous than the cops.”
Leaving the boat, they walked quickly along the path that led towards the waterfront.
“If we run into a cop, let me handle him,” Johnny said.
It took them ten minutes to reach the line of shops and cafes that had been Ken’s starting-point.
The waterfront appeared deserted. The amusement arcade was in darkness. The only light that showed was the electric sign that flashed on and off above the hotel, spelling out the word WASHINGTON.
Then suddenly a cop appeared out of the darkness.
Both Johnny and Ken stopped short.
“Hey you!” the cop said, pointing his night stick at Ken. “I want a word with you.”
“What is it?” Ken said, his heart sinking.
Johnny stepped back.
“You answer to the description of Kenway Holland, wanted for questioning at headquarters. Are you Holland ?”
Ken saw Johnny move slightly behind the cop, his hand flash to his hip pocket.
“No!” Ken exclaimed. “Don’t… !”
The cop spun around, but he was too late.
The crash of gunfire shattered the silence. Horrified, Ken saw the cop
drop to his knees and then roll over. He made to bend over him, but Johnny grabbed his arm and dragged him down a dark alley.
“Run!” Johnny said thickly. “Come on, you fool! They’ll be after us!”
Immediately above them a gun barked. Ken heard the slug zip past his face and saw Johnny stagger.
“Run!” Johnny snarled, recovering his balance.
Panic-stricken, Ken bolted down the dark alley after Johnny as a police whistle shrilled in the darkness.
They hadn’t run more than fifty yards when Johnny suddenly staggered, lost his balance and fell on hands and knees.
Ken pulled up and bent over him.
“Were you hit?” he panted.
“Got it in the arm,” Johnny gasped. “I’m bleeding like hell.”
Ken looked frantically to right and left. He could hear someone running down an iron staircase not far off. He could hear distant shouts and more police whistles. He caught hold of Johnny and hauled him to his feet. Johnny leaned against him.
“Where’s this alley lead to?” Ken asked.
“I don’t know. Leave me! They’ll be on to us in a moment.”
“No!”
Ken wanted to run, but he knew he had to stick with Johnny. Adams had said he wanted Johnny, and Ken was determined he should have Johnny.
He pulled Johnny back against the wall. Nearby was a door, leading to a tall, shabby house. Suddenly the door jerked open and a shadowy figure of a girl appeared in the doorway.
“Hey! Come inside quick!” she said in an urgent whisper.
Ken could hear the thud of running feet coming from the end of the alley. He didn’t hesitate. Dragging Johnny over to the door, he bundled him into the darkness beyond and heard the girl hurriedly shut and lock the door. Almost immediately he heard someone run by.
“Is he hurt?” the girl asked.
“He’s shot in the arm.”
“Stay here. I’ll get a light.”
“Aren’t women wonderful?” Johnny muttered. “Everytime I get into a jam there’s a woman to help me out.” He leaned more heavily against Ken. “I feel like hell. I think I’m going to pass out…”
He slumped suddenly nearly pulling Ken over, then he slid to the ground.
The girl came quickly down the steep flight of stairs, holding a flickering candle above her head.
“I think he’s fainted,” Ken said.
“Can you carry him up? I have a room at the head of the stairs.”
Ken managed to get Johnny across his shoulder and he staggered up the stairs after the girl, who lit the way.
He got Johnny into a small room, lit only by an oil lamp.
“Put him on the bed.”
When he had lowered Johnny on to the bed, he turned to look at the girl and he saw with a sense of shock it was the girl he had met in the amusement arcade.
“Hello, handsome,” she said, smiling at him. “So you’re still in trouble.” She handed him the oil lamp. “Hold it so I can take a look at him.”
Too surprised to say anything, Ken held the oil lamp while she quickly cut away Johnny’s coat sleeve and shirt. The sight of the blood and the torn flesh sickened him.
“It could be worse, but I’ve to stop that bleeding,” she said calmly. She moved quickly across the room, filled a basin of water, went to a cupboard and pulled out a couple of towels and came back to the bed.
In an astonishingly short time she had got the bleeding under control and had bandaged Johnny’s arm.
“That’s fixed it,” she said as she began to clear away the blood-stained rags. “He’ll be okay now.”
Ken set down the lamp on the table. While she had been working on Johnny he had been uneasily listening to the noises going on outside. He heard police whistles, distant shouting and sirens, and he guessed the alley and the surrounding buildings were being cordoned off.
He had to get in touch with Adams.
As soon as the girl had finished clearing up, he said, “I must use the telephone. Have you got one?”
“Does it look like it?” she said impatiently. “There’s a pay boom at the end of the alley, but you’d better not use that.”
“I must get him away from here. If they found him here you’d get into trouble,” Ken said anxiously.
The girl laughed.
“Be your age, handsome,” she said. “What do I care? I’m never out of trouble.”
“But you don’t understand. He shot a policeman. He probably killed him.”
“So what? My brother killed two cops,” the girl said in-differently. “They’re fair game, aren’t they ?”
Ken looked helplessly at her.
“I must get him away from here !”
“Relax. You can’t go yet. They’re out there like a swarm of bees. Sit down.
I’ll make some coffee.” She bent over Johnny. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He won’t be able to move yet.”
Ken sat down. He suddenly felt exhausted. While she made coffee he listened to the uproar going on outside.
“They’re certain to come here,” he said uneasily. “They’ll search every building.”
“Oh, forget it!” she said impatiently. “They’re not here yet.”