Erle Gardner - The Danger Zone and Other Stories

Jane Marlow had to lean against the cold wind as she walked from the car to the porch of the cabin. Howard Kane held the door open for her, and she found herself inside a cold room which fairly reeked of masculine tenancy, with a paper-littered desk, guns, deer and elk horns.

Within a matter of seconds she heard the pound of steps on the porch, the door was flung open, and the fat man and a companion stood on the threshold.

“Well, Jane,” the fat man said, “you gave us quite a chase, didn’t you?” He turned to the others.

“Reckon I’d better introduce myself, boys.” He reached in his pocket, then took out a wallet and tossed it carelessly on the desk.

“I’m John Findlay of the FBI,” he said,

“That’s a lie,” she said. “Can’t you understand? This man is an enemy. Those credentials are forged.”

“Well, ma’am,” the other newcomer said, stepping forward, “there ain’t nothing wrong with my credentials. I’m the sheriff here, and I’m taking you into custody.”

He took her purse, said, “You just might have a gun in here.”

He opened the purse. Findlay leaned over to look, said, “It’s all there.”

“Come on, Miss Marlow,” the sheriff said, “You’re going back in that plane.”

“That plane of yours holds three people?” Findlay asked.

The sheriff looked appraisingly at the fat man. “Not us three.”

“I can fly the crate,” Findlay said. “I’ll take the prisoner in, lock her up and then fly back for you and...”

“No, no, no!” Jane Marlow screamed. “Don’t you see, can’t you realize, this man isn’t an officer. I’d never get there. He...”

“Shut up,” the sheriff said.

“Sheriff, please! You’re being victimized. Call up the FBI and you’ll find out that...”

“I’ve already called up the Los Angeles office of the FBI,” the sheriff said.

Kane’s brows leveled. “Was that because you were suspicious, Sheriff?”

“Findlay himself suggested it.”

Jane was incredulous. “You mean they told you that...?”

“They vouched for him in every way,” the sheriff said. “They told me he’d been sent after Jane Marlow, and to give him every assistance. Now I’ve got to lock you up...”

“She’s my responsibility, Sheriff,” Findlay said.

The sheriff frowned, then said, “Okay, I’ll fly back and send a deputy out with a car.”

“Very well,” Findlay agreed. “I’ll see that she stays put.”

Jane Marlow said desperately, “I presume that when Mr. Findlay told you to call the FBI office in Los Angeles, he gave you the number so you wouldn’t have to waste time getting it through an operator, didn’t he?”

“Why not?” the sheriff said, smiling good-humoredly. “He’d be a hell of an FBI man if he didn’t know his own telephone number.”

The fat man fished a cigar from his pocket. Biting off the end and scraping a match into flame, he winked at the sheriff.

Howard Kane said to Findlay, “Mind if I ask a question?”

“Hell no. Go right ahead.”

“I’d like to know something of the facts in this case. If you’ve been working on the case you’d know...”

“Sure thing,” Findlay agreed, getting his cigar burning evenly. “She worked for Hardwick, who was having an affair with a model. We followed him to the model’s apartment. They had a quarrel. Hardwick’s supposed to have jumped out of the window. She went to his office and took five thousand dollars out of the safe. The money’s in her purse.”

“So she was jealous?”

“Jealous and greedy. Don’t forget she got five grand out of the safe.”

“I was following my employer’s specific instructions in everything I did,” Jane said.

Findlay grinned.

“What’s more,” she blazed, “Frank Hardwick wasn’t having any affair with that model. He was lured to her apartment. It was a trap and he walked right in.”

Findlay said, “Yeah. The key we found in his vest pocket fitted the apartment door. He must have found it on the street and was returning it to the owner as an act of gallantry.”

The sheriff laughed.

Howard Kane glanced speculatively at the very young woman. “She doesn’t look like a criminal.”

“Oh, thank you!” she blazed.

Findlay’s glance was patronizing. “How many criminals have you seen, buddy?”

Doxey rolled a cigarette. His eyes narrowed against the smoke as he squatted down cowboy fashion on the backs of his high-heeled riding boots. “Ain’t no question but what she’s the one who jimmied the safe, is there?”

“The money’s in her purse,” Findlay said.

“Any accomplices?” Buck asked.

“No. It was a combination of jealousy and greed.” Findlay glanced inquiringly at the sheriff.

“I’ll fly in and send that car out,” the sheriff said.

“Mind if I fly in with yuh and ride back with the deputy, Sheriff?” Buck asked eagerly. “I’d like to see this country from the air once. There’s a paved road other side of that big mountain where the ranger has his station. I’d like to look down on it. Some day they’ll connect us up. Now it’s an hour’s ride by horse...”

“Sure,” the sheriff agreed. “Glad to have you.”

“Just give me time enough to throw a saddle on a horse,” Doxey said. “Kane might want to ride out and look the ranch over. Yuh won’t mind, Sheriff?”

“Make it snappy,” the sheriff said.

Buck Doxey went to the barn and after a few minutes returned leading a dilapidated-looking range pony saddled and bridled. He casually dropped the reins in front of the ranch “office,” and called inside:

“Ready any time you are, Sheriff.”

They started for the airplane. Buck stopped at the car to get a map from the glove compartment, then hurried to join the sheriff. The propeller of the plane gave a half-turn, stopped, gave another half-turn; the motor sputtered, then roared into action. A moment later the plane became the focal point of a trailing dust cloud, then raised and swept over the squat log buildings in a climbing turn and headed south.

Jane Marlow and Kane watched it through the window until it became but a speck.

Howard Kane said, “Now, Mr. Findlay, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Sure, go right ahead.”

“You impressed the sheriff very cleverly,” Kane said, “but I’d like to have you explain...”

“Now that it’s too late,” Jane Marlow blazed indignantly. “You’ve let him...”

Kane motioned her to silence. “Don’t you see, Miss Marlow, I had to get rid of the sheriff. He represents the law, right or wrong. But if this man is an imposter, I can protect you against him.”

Findlay’s hand moved with such rapidity that the big diamond made a streak of glittering light.

“Okay, wise guy,” he said. “Try protecting her against this.”

Kane rushed the gun.

Sheer surprise slowed Findlay’s reaction time. Kane’s fist flashed out in a swift arc, just before the gun roared.

The fat man moved with amazing speed. He rolled with the punch, spun completely around on his heel and jumped back, the automatic held to his body, his eyes glittering with rage.

“Get ’em up,” he said.

The cold animosity of his tone showed that this time there would be no hesitancy.

Slowly Kane’s hands came up.

“Turn around,” Findlay said. “Move over by that window. Press your face against the wall. Give me your right hand, Kane. Now the left hand.”

A smooth leather thong, which had been deftly knotted into a slipknot, was jerked tight, then knotted into a quick half hitch.

The girl, taking advantage of Findlay’s preoccupation, flung herself on him.

The bulk of Findlay’s big shoulders absorbed the onslaught without making him even shift the position of his feet. He jerked the leather thong into a last knot, turned and struck the girl in the pit of the stomach.