Part 16 (1/2)
”Most a.s.suredly you will be able to communicate with them. Please allow me a moment to prepare before we leave, though.” He opened the door behind his desk and made use of the inner room it served. There he kept an old army cot and some spare clothing, among other things. When he finally emerged, he looked slightly heavier and sported an unmistakable bulge beneath his coat under the right arm.
”Ready?” I asked.
”As I shall ever be. We'll take my car.”
And no chances; he wanted his bulletproof vest, gun, and the armor plating of the Nash between himself and the unknowns that Dimmy Wallace represented. I approved. Chicago could play indecently rough at times.Escott handled his big tank of a car, along with its extra weight in steel, the way Astaire danced with Rogers. He very obviously derived a lot of pleasure from driving and my guess was that if he loved anything, he loved his Nash, bullet dimples in the doors and all.
We were up to the speed limit, but he didn't seem to be in a hurry to arrive. That kind of urgency was missing from his att.i.tude. We took a few turnings and though my knowledge of the city was still sketchy, I knew we weren't on a direct route to the south side.
”What's up, Charles?”
”Someone is following us,” he said with quiet interest.
The hard blue glare of the streetlights struck his chest, traveled up to his chin and vanished as our car moved forward. It reminded me that whoever was behind us would see my outline if I turned around to look, so I didn't.
”Can you tell who they are?”
”Unfortunately, no. Their headlights are in the way.”
” What d'you want to do about it?”
”There are a number of options open to us.”
”I'm all ears.”
His eyes flicked up to the rearview mirror, then back to the road. ”I can lose them...”
Aren't we a little too big for that?”
”Shoe Coldfield did somewhat more than add special gla.s.s and armoring when he owned this particular vehicle. There were some slight modifications to improve engine efficiency as well.”
”Why is it that I'm not very surprised?”
”Haven't the faintest. Now the problem with losing them is that we may never know who they are, and such antics are liable to arouse the curiosity of the local constabulary.”
”What other options have you got?”
”We can pretend to be unaware of them and lead them to a spot convenient to us, and-as it is so colorfully put in westerns-get the drop on them.”
”I like that one. Got any particular spot in mind?”
”Yes, I'm heading for it now.””Had it all worked out beforehand?”
”More or less, but it seemed best to keep moving until I'd discussed things with you. I'm so glad our decisions are in accordance.”
”What if they weren't?”
”I'm not sure, but since they are, it hardly seems relevant to speculate over might- have-beens.”
That was true. I was just nervous and he was being polite and not pointing it out to me-not in so many words. Escott ought to have been the nervous one, as he was physically far more vulnerable than I, but he liked this kind of work. He seemed to feed off tension the way I fed off cattle.
”I plan to rely on your speed and other special abilities,” he told me.
”Okay.”
”I'm going to take a turn into an alley ahead and go slow enough for you to get out. When the other car comes through, I'll have stopped at the far end. Chances are they will also stop, and you can improvise from there.”
”And if they don't follow you in?”
”Then we'll go to plan B.”
”Which is... ?”
”I'll let you know when I think of it.”
I shook my head, but it didn't matter much. If this stunt didn't come off no doubt he would think of something else.
He made a leisurely turn into a narrow s.p.a.ce between two long buildings. Dark walls of brick and useless, soot-stained windows slipped past and slowed as he took his foot from the gas and s.h.i.+fted gears. There was enough room to open the door, but I didn't bother. When we were down to ten miles an hour I dematerialized and slipped out.
Smack in front of me was the solidity of the right-hand building, which I used to orient myself. Turning and pressing my back (such as it was in this state) to the wall, I very slowly eased into the world again, but only a little. I was mostly transparent, which meant that unless I moved around or lost concentration and went whole, the party in the other car couldn't easily see me. On the other hand, I could still get a very good look at them.
Their headlights were dark as they turned into the alley. They saw Escort's car far ahead of them, but slowed to think things over. It gave me a good chance to identify the driver.I cott had said to improvise, right now I was torn between anger and curiosity.
When the first wave of it pa.s.sed, they were halfway to me. I could wait for them, rush in, and do my Lamont Cranston imitation, or I could find Escott again and tell him to get us lost. Both were equally tempting.
Now they were within ten feet of me and sailing slowly past, so I made a decision, materialized, grabbed the pa.s.senger-door handle, and yanked it open.
I n the crowded confusion of the front seat of the car, I wasn't sure who screamed the loudest at my sudden appearance: the young photographer clutching his camera or Barbara Steler clutching the steering wheel.
Out of reflex, she hit the brakes and the engine stalled. The kid with the camera made an abortive attempt to push me out, but I got my left arm inside in time and pushed him against the scat hard enough for him to lose his breath. The arm remained, to hold him up and to give him something to think about.
Barbara tried the starter, but their car was flooded now. She looked up-fear flashed through those huge bronze eyes for a second until she recognized me-then she slammed her hands on the steering wheel.
”d.a.m.n it! Where in h.e.l.l did you come from?”
I'd meant to give them a good scare and couldn't keep the grin off my face. ”Ask my mother, she knows all about it.”
”You never had one, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
”Temper, temper. Maybe you'd like to tell me why you're following us around.”
”You used to be in the business. Work it out.” She put a palm to her forehead and tried to slow her breathing. The adrenaline surge caused by my entrance had them both shaking.
”Barb...” this from the photographer, in a slightly strangled tone. My arm had slid up to his neck. I eased the pressure but kept the same position.
She saw what had happened and suddenly threw her head back and laughed. The kid joined in, but not too enthusiastically. When she recovered, her body was less tense and she had an air of being in charge of things. She opened her door and got out, walking around to wait in front of the car. I told the kid to stay put. He was still wobbly and content to do as he was told without any special influence on my part.
Barbara was in somber black, right down to her kid gloves and silk stockings. It brought out the ivory of her skin and made me want to see more of it than was decently possible under any circ.u.mstances. Her full lips were softly curved into the kind of smile a woman gets when she correctly reads a man's mind.
”This is hardly the perfect place to talk,” she began.