Part 11 (2/2)
He said, ”Suppose it turns out that Major Stone is the one who killed the old man.”
Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly. ”That's preposterous.”
”Is it?”
”Utterly.”
”Well just for the sake of argument, suppose he did. How would you feel about that?”
Her voice dropped into low key again as she said, ”Then I would fear that he had gone quite mad. I would feel the deepest pity for him.”
”If he did do it, Ann, I'll probably have to zap him.”
”You'll have to what?”
”There's something smelly about this whole setup, and I'm not talking about s.e.xual perversion. Something very rotten and very evil is underlying this entire mishmash, and I'm betting that Edwin Charles did not die at some madman's spur of the moment whim. He died for some d.a.m.n good reason. I believe that this reason somehow is related to my presence in London, and I'm betting that the killer and I will have a showdown before it's all over. When that happens, Ann, I will probably kill him.”
She murmured, ”And you believe that this shadowy 'someone' could possibly be Major Stone.”
”It's more than a possibility,” he told her.
The girl pulled herself erect. She crossed her legs, Indian fas.h.i.+on as she sat on the bed. She gazed steadily at Bolan for a thoughtful moment, then said, ”But suppose that Charles was actually in on the blackmail plot?”
”That could change things,” Bolan admitted. ”Do you think he was?”
She shrugged her shoulders. ”I hardly know what to think at this point.” She got off the bed and went to the window, pulled back the blinds, and stared somberly outside. ”It's daylight,” she announced quietly. ”What a difference twenty-four hours can bring.”
Bolan wanted to get things firmly understood. He told her, ”The point of it all, Ann... I may turn out to be your very worst enemy.”
”You could never be that,” she murmured, still gazing out the window.
”A few minutes ago you were ready to blow my head off,” he reminded her.
”Not really.” She sighed and her head drooped toward the windowpane. ”I was simply shocked and frightened and confused. I could never have pulled that trigger. I'm in love with you, Mack.”
Bolan said, ”All right, maybe I feel something of the same for you. But it won't change a thing at the nitty-gritty level, Ann. I'm going to keep hacking at this thing, and the chips are going to lie where they fall.”
Silent tears were oozing down the smooth cheeks as she turned to him and said, ”Then let's make a pact.”
”What sort of pact?” he asked gruffly.
”To love one another... 'til murder do us part.”
He said, ”Dammit, Ann,” and moved to her and took her in his arms.
She gave way entirely then, the sobs racking her and the tears flowing unrestrained. Bolan held her and patted her and whispered, ”Hey, hey, hey...”
She had her cry, and a tender kiss or two, and she was nuzzling contentedly at his shoulder when suddenly she stiffened and raised her head to gaze intently out the window.
”Mack!” she said, her voice tight with alarm. ”You said you've been afoot... but... did a taxicab bring you here?”
He followed her gaze to the window and replied, ”Yes, but I had him drop me up on Euston Road. What's going on out there?”
”Did I forget to... ? Charles warned me that the taxi companies were alerted to watch out for you. Now see what...”
Bolan grabbed the blinds and closed them with a jerk. Russell Square was beginning to crawl with bobbies. He flung himself away from the girl and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the guncase and headed for the door.
Ann grabbed his suitcase and ran after him.
”You stay!” he commanded.
”I'll not stay,” she replied firmly. ”I've a rental car in the alley. Don't waste time arguing.”
Bolan knew the wisdom of that last remark. He quickly doused the lights and grabbed Ann's elbow and hustled her through the doorway and along to the rear stairway.
With a lot of luck, they just might make it. ”Listen,” he said urgently, ”if the cops start shooting, then that's it and it's the end of things. You hit the dirt and dammit don't move a muscle. And you tell 'em that I was holding a gun on you. Remember that, you were my prisoner-otherwise they'll throw the book at you.”
”We'll escape,” she said confidently. ”Never worry, we'll get through.”
She was plucky as h.e.l.l and Bolan was proud of her and... yeah, he was more than just proud of her.
He hadn't really wanted to leave her behind. They'd made a pact. They were together until... Bolan was hoping for a long romance. But, under the circ.u.mstances, he was not counting on it.
Chapter Fifteen.
DOUBLE DUPLICITY.
Giliamo and Turrin were outside to greet the new arrivals as the glistening motorcade swept into the drive. Staccio had remained in the house, growling, ”If Arnie Farmer wants to see me, let 'im look me up.”
As the vehicles continued to pull in, Giliamo leaned back toward Turrin and remarked, ”Christ, how many heads has he brought with him?”
Turrin grinned. ”You ain't seen nothing. This is just his personal party. We made arrangements around town for the other crews.”
The driver of the lead vehicle jumped out and s.n.a.t.c.hed open the rear door. A loud command from inside resulted in the door being hastily closed again. The driver ran down the line of vehicles, thumping doors and issuing orders on the run. Men began erupting from the cars and milling about in confusion until crew leaders took over and turned the chaos into order. Two groups went to the street, broke up, and disappeared. Others began prowling the grounds and manning the fence. Another group filed solemnly past Giliamo and Turrin with hardly a glance at the reception committee and went inside, presumably to shake down the house.
Turrin had watched all this with a bemused smile. In a low aside to Giliamo, he remarked, ”Talk about your palace guard. The President should have such a security thing, eh?”
Giliamo, though, was obviously impressed by the show of force. He said, ”Look I don't blame 'im. I know. I been there.”
”You been where?”
The Jerseyite flushed and replied, ”Never mind, I know all about this Bolan and I gotta hand it to Arnie Farmer, he knows what he's doing.”
Turrin chuckled and watched the proceedings without further comment. Presently a hard-looking man approached the Castiglione vehicle, quietly opened the door, and said something to the men inside in a hushed voice. Two bodyguards exited from the front seat, on the opposite side, and took up waiting positions there, looking nervously around. Another two came off the jumpseats in the rear and bracketed the doorway with their bodies. Then the man himself stepped out, followed quickly by a companion. The bodyguards fell in to form a tight circle and the party moved forward with Castiglione barely visible in the center.
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