Джеймс Чейз - You Never Know With Women

I had no idea, of course, when the bomb was timed to explode, but when it did, I knew it would blow everything in the safe to atoms. That’s the way they had it figured Brett wouldn’t know whether or not the compact had been stolen. For all he could tell, an attempt had been made to blow open the safe, but too much T.N.T. had been used and the contents of the safe had been liquidated. It was a bright idea: an idea worthy of Gorman; but when I thought of climbing that wall, coming up here, wasting time dodging the guards with a bomb ticking in my pocket, I came out in another rush of cold sweat. I shut the safe and spun the dial. My one thought was to get as far away from the safe as I could before the bomb went off. Maybe I was a little panicky. You would have felt the same. Bombs are tricky things, and a home-made bomb is the trickiest of them all. I didn’t doubt that Parker — if Parker was responsible for the thing — had timed it to go off sometime after we were well clear of the house; but I wouldn’t trust anyone to be accurate when it comes to bomb mechanism. So far as I was concerned that bomb was likely to go off right now.

I shot to the door, jerked it open and walked out just as Ned, the guard, walked in.

I have a reputation for fast action when it comes to a fight. I don’t have to think what to do when I step into that kind of trouble. My reflexes take care of the work long before my brain goes into action. I had Ned by his thick throat, throttling his yell, before I had gotten over the shock of running into him.

His reflexes were a mile behind mine. He just stood there for a split second, unable to move, letting me throttle him. I’ll say this for him: he made a remarkable recovery. As soon as he realized what was happening he caught hold of my wrists and I knew by his grip I wouldn’t be able to hold him. He was as strong as a bear.

Only one thing mattered to me. I had to stop this guy from yelling. He tore one of my hands off his throat and sank a fist that felt like a lump of pig iron into the side of my neck. It hurt and got me mad. I socked him twice about the body. His ribs weren’t made of concrete but they felt like it. He grunted, drew in a breath and I socked him again before he could yell. He sagged a bit at the knees, ducked under another smack I let fly at him and grabbed me around the body. We went to the floor, in slow motion, and settled on the carpet with scarcely a bump. We fought like a couple of animals then. He was as tough and as dirty as an all-in wrestler, and as savage. But I kept socking them into his body and I knew he wasn’t built to take much of that stuff. I grabbed hold of his head and slammed it on the floor. He twisted away, caught me a kick in the chest that flattened me and let out a yell like a foghorn.

I jumped him and we sent a table crashing to the floor. I was rattled now. If the other guard came in with the dog it wouldn’t be so good. I hit Ned in the face with two punches that nearly bust my fists. He flopped to his side, groaning. I didn’t blame him. Those smacks even hurt me.

Then the light went on and the other guard came in and that seemed to be that.

I kicked Ned away, half rose to my knee, paused. The .45 pointing at me looked a lot larger than a 240mm howitzer and twice as deadly.

“Hold it!” Harry said, his voice squeaky with fright.

I held it while Ned got unsteadily to his feet.

“What the hell goes on?” Harry demanded. He was a fat-faced, dumb-looking hick, but built like a bullock.

All I could think of was the bomb.

“Watch him, Harry,” Ned croaked. “Just let me get my breath. I told you, didn’t I? It’s the same guy.”

Harry gaped at me. His finger tightened on the trigger.

“We’d better call the cops,” he said. “You all right, Ned?”

Ned cursed him and cursed me. Then he kicked me in my ribs before I could block his boot. I went sprawling across the room and I guess that saved me.

The bomb went off.

I was vaguely aware of a lot of noise, a flash of blinding light and a rush of air that flung me up against the wall. Then plaster crashed down on me, windows fell out, the room swayed and shook.

I found I was clutching hold of the flashlight I’d dropped when I had grabbed Ned. I knew I had to get out of here fast, but I had to see what had happened to the guards. I needn’t have worried. They had been in a direct line of the safe door as it was blown off its hinges. I recognized Ned by his boots, but I didn’t recognize Harry at all.

I stumbled through the broken french windows out on to the terrace. I was punch-drunk, slap-happy and scared yellow, but my brain still functioned.

I was going to double-cross Gorman before he double-crossed me. The exploding bomb had made it easy for me.

I staggered over to the stone bird that guarded the top of the terrace steps. I don’t know how I managed to climb up to the place where its wings joined its body, but I did. I put the compact in the little hollow between the wings, scrambled down, and began to run towards where I hoped I’d find Parker.

My legs felt as if the bones had been taken out of them and my ears sang. It looked a long way across that lawn to the wall and I wasn’t sure if I could make it.

The moon had climbed above the house now and the garden was full of silvery light. You could see every blade of grass, every flower, every stone in the gravel paths. There was nothing you couldn’t see. But I saw only one thing: the wolfhound coming straight at me like an express train.

I let out a yell you could have heard in San Francisco, turned to run, changed my mind, spun around to face the brute. He came over the lawn, low to the ground, his eyes like red-hot embers, his teeth as white as orange pith in the moonlight. I still dream about that dog, and I still wake up, sweating, think he’s coming at me, feeling his teeth in my throat. He stopped dead within ten yards of me, dropped flat, turned to stone. I stood there, sweat dripping off me, my knees budding, too scared even to breathe. I knew one flicker out of me and he’d come.

We stared at each other for maybe ten seconds. It seemed like a hundred years to me. I could see his tail stiffening and his back legs tightening for his spring, then there was a sharp crack of an automatic. I heard the slug whine past my head. The dog rolled over on its side, snarling and biting, its teeth snapping horribly at empty air.

I didn’t wait to assess the damage. I ran towards the beam of the torch that flashed from the top of the wall. I got there, pulled myself up, fell with a thud on the far side.

Parker grabbed me around the waist, half dragged, half carried me to the car. I rolled in, slammed the door as he let in the clutch.

“Keep going!” I yelled at him. “They’re right behind. They’ve got a car and they’ll be after us.”

I wanted to get him rattled so he wouldn’t ask questions until we had gone too far to go back. I got him rattled.

He drove down the hills like he was crazy. That guy certainly could drive. Why we didn’t go over the mountain road beats me. We tore down the road, took hairpin bends at eighty, our wheels inches from the over-hang.

At the end of the mountain road he suddenly slammed on his brakes, skidded across the road, straightened up and turned on me as if he were out of his mind.

“Did you get it?” he screamed at me, grabbing my coat lapels and shaking me. “Where is it, damn you! Did you get it?”

I put my hand in the middle of his chest and gave him a shove that nearly sent him out of the car.

“You and your damned bomb!” I yelled back at him.

“You crazy dumb cluck! You nearly killed me!”

“Did you get it?” he bawled, beating on the steering-wheel with his clenched fists.

“The bomb blew it to hell,” I told him. “That’s what your bomb did. It blew the whole safe and everything in it to hell,” and I hit him flush on the button as he came at me.