James Chase - The World in My Pocket

Kitson nodded.

‘It sure is.’

‘You reading about this truck robbery? I got it on the radio this morning. They seem to think the truck must be hidden in the woods around here. They’re organizing search parties. Every road is being checked from the air, and yet there’s still no sign of it.’

‘Yeah,’ Kitson said, folding the newspapers.

‘It slays me to think they could have kept it hidden even as long as this with so many guys hunting for it. Looks like the driver’s one of them, doesn’t it? That poor guard — what’s his name? Dirkson. Well, I reckon they should look after his widow.’

Hadfield, listening, said, ‘That smash was a fake so they say. It means a woman is working with the gang. The guard radioed back to the Agency just before he was killed. They’re checking on this guy Thomas, the driver, now to see if there was a woman in his life besides his wife.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t mind having the reward,’ Bradford said. ‘My kid says he’s going to take a walk through the woods. He kids himself he’ll find the truck.’ He laughed. ‘It’ll get him out of the way for a while. I’ve never known such a restless kid. He drives my good lady nuts.’

Hadfield shook his head.

‘They wouldn’t bring the truck here,’ he said. ‘There are too many people using these woods. I reckon if they’ve hidden it anywhere, it’ll be up at Fox Wood. Very few people get up there and it’s well off the beaten track.’

‘Yeah, but don’t tell my kid that,’ Bradford said. ‘That’s too far for him to go wandering off.’

Ginny came out of the store, carrying a sack of groceries.

‘Morning, Mrs. Harrison,’ Bradford said, lifting his hat. ‘So you got here all right?’

‘We got here,’ Ginny said smiling. She handed the sack to Kitson, then linked her arm through his, leaning against him, smiling at the two men who looked approvingly at her.

‘That’s the idea,’ Hadfield said. ‘Make use of your man, now you’ve got him. My wife says all a man is fit for is to carry parcels.’

Ginny looked up at Kitson.

‘I think you’re fit for many more things than carrying parcels, honey,’ she said.

As Kitson flushed, the two men laughed.

‘That’s what I like to hear,’ Hadfield said. ‘I’d like my good lady to hear that.’

‘Can we take a boat out, Mr. Hadfield?’ Ginny asked.

‘Why, sure. Just the right time now before it gets too hot. You know where the boat house is? You see Joe there. He’ll fix it for you.’

‘Well, then I guess we’ll get along,’ Ginny said.

Bradford said, ‘Any time you feel like a little company, Mr. Harrison, we’re at cabin 20; about a quarter of a mile from yours. Be glad to see you.’

Hadfield dug his elbow into Bradford’s ribs.

‘They’re on their honeymoon,’ he said. ‘Whose company do you imagine they want except their own?’

Laughing, Ginny tugged at Kitson’s arm, and they moved off down the path, arm-in-arm, her head against his shoulder.

The two men looked after them and then they glanced at each other a little ruefully.

‘I guess that guy is lucky,’ Hadfield said. ‘What a pretty thing she is! Between you and me, I wouldn’t mind changing places with him.’

Bradford grinned a little furtively.

‘No comment,’ he said, ‘but I know just what you mean.’

When Kitson and Ginny got back to the cabin, Ginny left the sack of groceries in the kitchen while Kitson, after making sure no one was around, tapped on the caravan window.

Red faced and sweating, Bleck pushed up the window.

‘What is it?’ he snarled. ‘Is it hot in here! The goddamn flies are driving us crazy! We can’t even leave this window open. What do you want?’

‘Got the papers for you,’ Kitson said and pushed the papers through the window. ‘Anything you want?’

‘No! Get the hell away from here!’ Bleck snapped and slammed down the window.

He went around to the back of the truck where Gypo sat on a stool they had taken from the cabin, his ear pressed to the door of the truck, his fingers on the dial.

The heat in the caravan was insufferable, and Bleck had stripped off his coat and shirt; his hairy chest was running with sweat.

He watched Gypo for a few seconds, then shrugging, he sat on the floor and began to read the papers. A half an hour later, he threw the papers aside, and got up to see how Gypo was getting on.

Gypo sat still, his face congested, his eyes closed, listening intently, his fingers just moving the dial.

‘Sweet suffering Pete!’ Bleck exploded. ‘Do you reckon to do that for the next ten days?’

Gypo started and opened his eyes.

‘Be quiet!’ he said angrily. ‘How can I work if you keep talking?’

‘If I don’t get some air soon I’ll bust a gut,’ Bleck said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. ‘Look, can’t we fix this curtain to keep the flies out and open the window?’

‘You fix it,’ Gypo said. ‘If you want me to open this truck, leave me alone.’

Bleck glared at him, then he went to the tool cupboard and took out a box of thumb tacks and a hammer. He nailed the curtain tightly to the window frame, then raised the window through the curtain.

He looked out on to the stretch of lake, seeing Ginny and Kitson embarking in a rowing boat. A spurt of jealous anger ran through him as Kitson rowed the boat away from the landing stage.

‘That bum’s got it easy!’ he burst out. ‘I should have had that job! There he goes.’

Gypo put his head around the side of the truck.

‘Will you pipe down!’ he said shrilly. ‘How can I work?’

‘Okay, okay, okay,’ Bleck snarled. ‘Quit yelling at me!’

Gypo wiped his aching fingers on the seat of his trousers and stared at the dial. So far he hadn’t heard one tumbler fall into place. He could sit there, he thought, despairingly, turning the dial for days without getting anywhere: maybe he’d never get anywhere.

‘I’ve got to take a rest, I haven’t any more feeling in my hand.’

He came and stood by the open window, drawing in deep breaths of the fresh air that was now beginning to circulate in the caravan.

‘Isn’t there any other way of opening it?’ Bleck demanded, his eyes still on the boat that was now moving through the water quickly under Kitson’s powerful strokes.

‘I told Frank it would be tough,’ Gypo said. ‘Maybe I’ll never open it.’

‘Yeah?’ Bleck stared at him. ‘You’d better open it, Gypo. You hear me? You’d better open it.’

The menacing gleam in his eyes made Gypo flinch.

‘I can’t work miracles,’ he muttered. ‘Maybe no one can open it.’

‘You’d better work a miracle,’ Bleck said savagely. ‘Go on! Get going! The longer you work at it, the quicker you’ll be! Get going!’

Gypo went back to the dial, sat down, pressed his ear to the door and began once more to move the dial, listening for a tumbler to fall.

By dusk, Gypo was exhausted. He sat on the stool, leaning against the door, making no attempt to move the dial. Seeing the distress on his face and how haggard he looked, Bleck let him alone.

Gypo had had only an hour’s break in twelve long, hot hours.

He had succeeded in dropping one of the tumblers, and he guessed he had at least another five to find. But he had made a start, and Bleck was feeling more optimistic. Maybe Gypo would find two of the tumblers tomorrow. Maybe they would have the door open by the end of the week.

When it was dark enough, Kitson let them out and they hurried over to the cabin.

Ginny had prepared a meal of pork tenderloins with sweet potatoes and she had baked an apple pie. The men ate hungrily. Every now and then Bleck shot a scowling glance at Kitson. It infuriated him to see Kitson’s face was sunburned, underlining the fact that he had been out in the open all day.