Part 8 (2/2)
”An odd experience, perhaps?”
Mom was worried now. ”Why do you ask? Has something happened to him?
What is it?”
”Please, Mrs. Fleming, so far as we know he is all right and we are doing our best to see that he remains so.”
Dad's temper was starting to flare. ”Out with the story, Mr. Braxton.”
”Of course, of course. Your son, unknown to himself, may have gotten into some trouble when he moved to Chicago.”
”How so? What kind of trouble?”
”When he lived in New York he often wrote stories on the criminal element there for his paper. He had access to information sources that they would like to see eliminated, what we call informants and the like. Some of these criminals became very suspicious at his sudden departure and they are anxious to find out why he left.
Matheus and I must talk with him about this and we must see him personally.””His moving was hardly sudden,” said Mom. ”Besides, he moved nearly a month ago.”
”Yes, unfortunately certain individuals from the underworld were arrested at the same time, and they are blaming him for their capture. Whether he was responsible or not makes little difference to them.”
There was a pause as Mom and Dad exchanged worried looks.
”Then we have to warn him, send him a telegram or something,” said Dad.
”No, you must not do that, such things can be intercepted. I know that from experience.”
”What experience?”
”I work for the government; I must ask you to keep this meeting secret, of course.”
”Government?” Mom echoed uncertainly.
”Here, my identification.”
Dad looked at something Braxton pa.s.sed to him. ”You don't look like a G-man- neither of you,” he added, to include Matheus, who was being very quiet about things.
Braxton chuckled easily. ”None of us really do. For instance, young Webber here is one of our trainees. This is his first a.s.signment, you know, so you see there is no real danger involved, but that does not lessen the importance of what we are doing.
We must make contact with your son as soon as possible. We have to warn him about what is going on.”
”We'll call him, then.”
”I'm afraid he's no longer at the place he was living in. He moved out last night and we were only able to trace him part of the way here.”
”He's coming home, then?” Dad was puzzled.
”Possibly, perhaps he learned of the trouble independently from us and he may try hiding out from them here.”
”Or at the farm-no one would think to look for him there,” Mom said helpfully. I groaned inside.
”Farm?”
Dad began explaining about the farm, with Braxton avidly listening, and I could see the next question coming a mile off. They didn't need to be nosing around my home earth and learning of my excavations. Before things could go further, I picked up one of the whitewashed stones that divided the lawn from the bushes and sent it cras.h.i.+ng through the parlor window.
Mom screamed and I was sorry for that, but I wanted those bozos out of the house, where I could deal with them. Dad was roaring mad and the first one out the front door, with Braxton and Webber at his heels. But I wasn't hanging around, and bolted for the Lincoln. Opening the driver's door, I released the hand brake and pushed. It wasn't so dark that they couldn't see their car moving off by itself.
Matheus noticed, yelled, and gave chase. I had a good lead; he was out of shape and Braxton on the arthritic side. It was a good block's run before they caught up with the car. I ducked low, seeping into the backseat, and waited for them. They were both wheezing when they tore the doors open. There was no sign of Dad. They'd left him back in the yard looking in the bushes for the vandal.
”I'm sure I set the brake,” Matheus insisted in reply to Braxton's irritated question.
”Well, start it up and let's get back there. I almost had him.”
”But who broke the window?”
”I did,” I said, leaning forward to clamp a hand over their mouths. For once the lack of an image in the rearview mirror had worked in my favor. They gave only a token struggle-I was strong and they were pretty winded after their dash to the car.
”I told you to go back to New York,” I reminded them.
Braxton mumphed something loud and defiant. He squirmed and twisted, trying to get something from his pants pocket. I could guess he was after his cross again and s.h.i.+fted my hand until it was over his nose. He was already short of oxygen, in a few seconds he was weakly trying to tear free.
”You gonna behave?” I asked him.
He mewed desperately down in his throat and I eased off just enough so he could breathe.
I looked at Matheus, who was too scared to move. ”Okay, kid, you drive to my directions, understand?”
He gurgled.
”You drive nice, or I'll break the geezer's neck.”
Another gurgle. It sounded like an affirmative.
I let the kid go and he started the car without any argument.
He seemed used to taking orders. Our drive was not a cordial one, and out of necessity I was forced to keep both hands tight on Braxton-one over his mouth and the other encircling his wrists. After several miles I was feeling very cramped.
We drove northeast until I judged that the distance was enough to keep them busy, then had the kid stop. He was visibly trembling and Braxton was sweating bullets. The area was well clear of the city, dark and deserted. They must have concluded that I was going to kill them and leave the bodies in a roadside ditch. It was tempting, but only as a joke. Instead I pushed them out of the car, got behind the wheel, and turned the big machine back toward the city. They gave an angry and halfhearted chase, but were easily left behind in the exhaust fumes.
If they got lucky they might turn up a ride in Montgomery, but in the meantime I planned to head for Indianapolis.
I left their car parked across the street from a fire station and had a brisk walk back to my own. By this time the neighborhood had settled down. The lights were still on in my parents' house, but the rest were dark, their occupants sensibly asleep.
Dad had nailed a board over the broken window. I rolled quietly away to look for another telephone.
Dad answered on the first ring and I blandly said h.e.l.lo.
”Jack!” He sounded excited.
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