Part 16 (1/2)

It is a lonely place at night, Bennington decided.

Thornberry leaned forward from the back seat of the car, leaned forward so far between Scott and Mosby that his thin nose almost touched the front window.

”Ideal, ideal, just the way Clarens would be thinking.”

”Thank G.o.d we found Judkins,” Mosby said, ”but say, that reminds me.

Why didn't he take the first plane or train out of town? He had plenty of time before we knew we wanted him.”

Thornberry pulled himself back, re-condensed his lean frame in the left corner of the back seat. ”He was waiting for Senator Giles to pay him off and tell him where to hide out.”

Chief Scott idled his car to a halt beside another dark-blue sedan almost invisible in the shadowed street.

A figure loomed large in the shadows, came forward and identified itself.

”Patrolman Whelton, sir, and Sergeant Kerr is in the back.”

Somehow Scott managed to return the salute while at the same time disentangling himself from his seat-belt and from behind the driver's wheel.

”What did you spot?”

”According to orders, we were riding the alleys and we saw that the window had been broken since our last inspection.”

They were in a tight group around the young patrolman because Whelton had spoken in a soft, church-going whisper. Now Mosby walked away from the group, thoughtfully fingering the ivory-handled b.u.t.ts of his revolvers, but returning to the group when Scott began speaking.

”Thanks, General Mosby. They couldn't have checked the alleys as often as they did without your men helping out on the streets. This way, we caught it fast.”

[Ill.u.s.tration]

”Sir, we can't find the watchman for this area,” and Patrolman Whelton was very worried.

”Watchman?” Mosby asked.

”Fire-warden would be more accurate,” Scott said. ”He isn't here to prevent theft. The stuff in these buildings is too big to steal without a convoy of trucks that would awaken the whole town. But he does have a definite route, with fixed posts where he clocks in.”

Two more cars drifted to a halt, disgorged men armed with shotguns and submachine guns.

Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gave his orders carefully, obviously aware that he had two renowned tacticians with him.

His car and one of the newly-arrived ones were to remain in front of the warehouse. The other patrol car would pull around the block and join Sergeant Kerr in the alley. At Scott's signal, they would flood the building with light.

And not until much later did Bennington remember to laugh at the way they had all followed the elephantine Whelton's example and gone on tiptoe down the walk between the two concrete-walled warehouses, into the alley behind.

The broken window was in a small door, part of the large door which let trucks in and out.

”Nice eye,” Scott said to Whelton.

Bennington agreed.

The break in the window was just big enough to allow a hand through the door, a small hand through the pane to the lock on the inside of the door.