James Chase - The World in My Pocket

‘Okay, smartie,’ Bleck said. ‘So we eat in the caravan. Sounds like you’re anxious to be alone with your boyfriend.’

Ginny turned and walked back into the kitchen.

‘You lay off her,’ Kitson said, getting to his feet.

‘Aw, button up!’ Bleck snarled, ‘go out there and see if anyone’s around, then open up the caravan.’

Kitson hesitated, then he went out into the sunshine. He looked to right and left, satisfied himself there was no one watching him, then he called to Bleck and opened the back of the caravan.

Bleck and Gypo got in.

‘You’re going to have it soft, plough boy,’ Bleck said, his eyes glittering. ‘You make hay while the sun shines.’

Kitson jerked the lever savagely, shutting the two men in the caravan, then he returned to the cabin.

Ginny was cooking more ham.

He went into the bathroom, took a shower, shaved, then put on a sweat shirt and a pair of cotton jeans. As he came into the sitting room, Ginny was putting a plate of ham and eggs on the table.

‘That looks good,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Is that for you or – or for me?’

‘I don’t eat breakfast,’ she said curtly, and pouring a cup of coffee, she carried it to the armchair and sat down, her back half turned to him.

Kitson sat down. He found he was hungry, and he began to eat, thinking how well the ham was cooked and the eggs were just as he liked them.

‘I guess we’d better get out after this,’ he said. ‘We might take a boat on the lake or something.’

‘Yes.’

He was disappointed that she sounded so curt.

‘It’s going to be pretty rugged for those two in the caravan,’ he said, hoping to get her talking. ‘There’s not much shade out there. By noon it’s going to be hotter than a stove.’

‘That’s their look out,’ she said indifferently.

‘Yeah. Do you think Gypo will open the truck?’

She made an impatient movement.

‘How should I know?’

‘Well, if he doesn’t, what are we going to do?’

‘Why ask me? Ask Bleck if you can’t work it out yourself.’

She got up abruptly, carrying her coffee cup and went into the kitchen.

Kitson felt his face burning. He suddenly didn’t want to go on with his breakfast, and grimacing, he finished his coffee, stacked the plates and carried them into the kitchen.

‘Look, I didn’t mean to get on your nerves,’ he said as he laid the things on the table. ‘But we’ve got to be seen around together. Couldn’t we be a little less unfriendly? After all,’ he stopped, floundering.

‘For God’s sake, go into the other room and let me alone,’ she said, her back turned to him; her voice was shaking.

Shocked by her tone, Kitson moved around so he could see her. It was then he realized how pale and drawn she looked. Maybe she wasn’t as tough as she made out, he thought. This horrible business of yesterday could have given her a hell of a jolt, as it had him.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Sorry,’ and he went into the sitting room and sat down, running his fingers through his hair. After a long moment of silence, he heard her crying. He didn’t move. The soft, scarcely heard sound underlined to him the hopelessness of this job. If she could cry over it, there could be no hope.

He sat there waiting and smoking and trying not to listen for some minutes, then abruptly she came out of the kitchen, and before he had a chance of seeing her face, she went into the bedroom.

Again there was a long pause, then she came to the doorway.

‘Let’s go,’ she said curtly.

He glanced at her.

Her make-up was flawless. Only the unnatural glitter in her eyes and the studied way she held herself hinted that she was under a strain.

He got to his feet.

‘We’d better get a newspaper,’ he said, careful not to look directly at her.

‘Yes.’

She walked across the sitting room to the door. She was wearing a lightweight sweater and a pair of bottle-green slacks. The combination showed off her neat, feminine figure as no other get-up could.

Kitson followed her into the sunshine.

As they stepped out of the cabin, the full heat of the morning sun struck them, and both looked across at the caravan that stood in the direct sunlight: both of them realized the heat that must be accumulating in the wooden structure.

They moved on, walking side by side, in silence.

There was a path through the woods that led to Hadfield’s office. Next to his office was a grocery store. As they came out of the shadows and into view of the wooden building, Ginny slipped her hand into Kitson’s. The feel of her cold flesh sent a tingle up his spine, and he looked quickly at her.

She gave him a ghost of a smile.

‘Sorry about the scene,’ she said. ‘My nerves are bad. I’m all right now.’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I know how you must be feeling’ and he tightened his grip on her hand.

Hadfield came out of his office and beamed on them as they came up to him ‘Well, Mr. Harrison,’ he said and thrust out his hand. ‘I guess you’re a happy man. Don’t tell me. I can see it on your face. Me. I guess if I were Mrs. Harrison’s husband, I’d be as happy as you are.’

Ginny laughed as Kitson shook Hadfield’s hand awkwardly.

‘Why, thanks, Mr. Hadfield. That’s a real compliment,’ she said. ‘We’ve come for the newspapers. Are there any?’

‘Newspapers?’ Hadfield lifted his bushy eyebrows. ‘Honeymooners shouldn’t want to be bothered about newspapers. Sure, I’ve got this morning’s lot. I’ll tell you straight away, the only news of interest is this truck robbery.’ His good-humoured face split into a grin. ‘Between you and me, I hand it to those fellows. They’ve walked off with a cool million bucks. Imagine! A million bucks in cash! No one knows where they’ve got to or how they did it, but that’s what they’ve done. That truck with a lock on it the best modern brains could think up, and stuffed with dollars, has just vanished into thin air! It’s a knockout! Nothing like it has ever happened before.’ He pushed his hat to the back of his head, grinning at them. ‘When I read the account in the papers, I said to myself, that’s the smartest thing that’s ever happened around these parts for as long as I can remember. Vanished! Imagine! A truck that size with all the police and half the Army searching every road within a hundred miles of here, and still no sign of it.’

He went into his office to get the papers.

Ginny and Kitson exchanged glances.

There was a pause, then Hadfield came out with four newspapers in his hand.

‘Maybe you don’t want them all,’ he said. ‘If you want the latest news take the Herald.’

‘I’ll take them all,’ Kitson said in a strangled voice. ‘What have we got to lose?’

He paid Hadfield for the papers and took them from him.

‘You quite happy where you are, Mrs. Harrison?’ Hadfield asked. ‘Nothing I can do for you?’

‘We’re fine, thanks,’ Ginny said. ‘There’s nothing.’

While Kitson scanned the headlines, Ginny went into the store.

The front pages of all the newspapers concentrated on the truck robbery. There were pictures of the truck and the guard and the driver. The Army headquarters were offering a thousand dollar reward for any information that would lead to the finding of the truck.

There was a hint from the police that the driver of the truck might be one of the members of the gang, since there was no trace of him.

While Kitson read, his mouth a little dry, Fred Bradford, the man who had offered help on the road up to Fawn Lake the previous day, came up to get his newspaper.

‘Hello there, Mr. Harrison,’ he said. ‘I see you’ve got your papers. Well, how do you like it here? Pretty good, huh?’