Eric Russell - Three to Conquer

“Quite proper of you,” said Norris. “I suppose there’s nothing for it but to come back later when they’re in.”

“Heaven knows when that will be,” she volunteered. “They took a lot of luggage with them. It gave me the idea that they were going for quite a piece.”

Norris asked, “Have they any friends locally who might put us in touch with them?”

“Not that I know of,” she answered. “Those Reeds aren’t’ overly sociable and became even less so after that nephew arrived. In fact, if you ask me, they’ve been downright surly these last few days. Wouldn’t speak unless spoken to, and then said no more than they could help. Acted as if I were a complete stranger to them—me, who’s lived next door for twelve years. It made me wonder what on earth had come over them. That nephew had something to do with it, I’m sure.”

Harper put in, “Who told you that he was their nephew?”

“Mrs. Reed. I said to her, ‘Who’s the young man?’ and she gave me a sharp look and snapped, ‘ Just a nephew’.”

“Thanks for the information,” said Norris. He got the car going while she remained on the lawn and showed deep disappointment at giving so much and learning so little.

“If that female minds her own business,” remarked Harper, as they rounded the end comer, “how much might we get out of someone who doesn’t?”

Norris grunted and offered no comment.

“What do you propose to do about McDonald?” Harper pursued. “Are you going to stake this place as thoroughly as you’ve staked mine?”

“It has been watched continually since nine o’clock, but evidently we started an hour too late. And although you saw no sign of the fact, it’s still under observation.” He weaved the car through traffic, went on, “First thing is to get the tag-number of the Reed car from the vehicle registration bureau and put out a general call for it. The second step is to have that house searched, on some pretext or other. The third is to find how and where McDonald picked up the Reeds and, more important, whether he’s had contact with anyone else besides the Reeds and the Baums. Lastly, I want to know how he’s managed to smuggle himself out of this area. Maybe he’s hidden somewhere nearby.”

“We’ll soon learn.” Norris drove another mile, asked, “Well, what are you thinking about?”

“Langley’s dead. McDonald’s not too far away, and now being sought.”

“What of it?”

“Strange that there hasn’t been a whisper about the third fellow, Gould.”

“No, there hasn’t,” Norris admitted. “He appears to have vanished into thin air. That proves nothing except that luck run better with some than with others.”

“If it is luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t have to be luck. Perhaps he’s the cleverest of the three, a really crafty character. If so, he is also the most dangerous.”

“He’ll fall over his own feet eventually,” Norris assured. “They always do!”

“I’ve been the subject of a nation-wide hunt myself,” Harper pointed out. “Admittedly, it wasn’t so urgent and intensive—but I had to jump around plenty to stay free. I know what it means to be on the run, which is more than you do, always having been the chaser and never the chased. The man who can disappear like Gould is good. He’s too good for comfort.”

“That won’t save him forever.”

“We haven’t got forever. Time is running short. Every day, every hour counts against us.” He shoved open the door as they halted at their destination. “You know only as much as they’ve seen fit to tell you. I’ll tell you something more.”

“What’s that?”

“If progress proves too slow for success, if we’re compelled to face defeat, you’ll have another bird’s egg in your mental nest before the new year. You’ll be really cuckoo, in a new and novel sense of the term. Just like everyone else. At least you’ll be in the fashion—when it’s the latest thing to be one of the walking dead!”

Business was stalled again the next morning, before he had time even to look through the mail. Harper arrived at the office, having been tailed by his escort all the way from home, removed his hat and made ready to sling it onto a hook.

“Don’t let go,” advised Norris. “Haul it back and stick it on your head. You’re departing right away.”

“Where to?”

“I don’t know; they haven’t seen fit to confide in me.”

That was true enough. Norris’s mind held no more information than that an official car had arrived to take Harper somewhere else, that he would be away the full day and that the guard was commanded, to maintain its watch on the plant during his absence.

Harper did not argue the matter this time; he was becoming resigned to the situation. Replacing the hat, he went outside and entered the car, in which sat only a driver.

As they moved off, a second machine bearing four men followed close behind. Around the corner, a third car suddenly pulled out from the curb and took the lead. This one also held a hard-looking quartet.

“Quite a cavalcade,” Harper remarked. “Somebody is according me the importance I’ve long deserved.”

The driver made no response.

Harper slumped in his seat, half-closed his eyes while his mind felt around like invisible fingers. His own driver, he found, knew nothing except that he must keep on the tail of the leading machine, be prepared for trouble and on no account face it if he could run out of it.

The fingers explored further.

Those in the leading car knew where the procession was heading; and from that moment, so did Harper. He gazed idly through the window at passing shops and pedestrians. With habit born of the last few days, he made a mental sweep of the neighborhood every now and again.

They had passed through two sets of traffic lights, and over a dozen cross streets, when alien impulses reached him, weak with distance but discernible. Something high up that side road, six, eight or maybe ten hundred yards away.

He sat up, red-faced, and snapped, “Quick! Turn up there!”

Beetle-brows firmed his thick lips, gave a warning toot on his horn and speeded up. They whizzed across the road without turning and continued straight on.

“You’re too slow to keep up with your own boots,” commented Harper, sharp-eyed and still listening. “Take this next turn; make it fast. We can buzz round the block and get him before he fades out.”

The car plunged on. It ignored the turn and the next and the next. The faraway squirming mind thinned into nothingness and was lost.

“You bladderhead!” swore Harper. “You’ve missed a prize chance.”

No retort.

He lapsed into ireful silence, wondering whether the brief emanations he’d picked up had come from McDonald himself or from yet another of his unsuspected dupes. There was no way of telling.

Surliness remained with him two hours later, when the cars rolled through a strongly guarded gateway in a heavily fenced area, went over a small hill and stopped before a cluster of buildings hidden from sight of the main road. A painted board stood beside the main entrance.

The four from the pilot car escorted him through the doors in the wary manner of men convinced that, given half the chance, he would take wings and fly.

He took a chair in the waiting-room, watched by three of them, while the fourth went in search of someone else. In due time, the latter returned with a white-coated, gray-haired individual who registered prompt surprise.

“Wade Harper! Well I’m blessed!”