Eric Russell: Three to Conquer

“What did this bunch look like? Give me as complete and detailed a description as you can manage.”

The other licked his lips and said, “The blond one was doing the driving. He was a husky guy in his late twenties-yellow hair, blue eyes, strong chin, clean-shaven, good looking and intelligent. You’d have called him a nice kind of fellow, if his eyes hadn’t been meaner than a snake’s.”

“No facial scars or other identifying marks?”

“Not that I noticed. Tell you what, though—he was pale. So were the other two guys. You know, whitish—the way they get when they’ve been bottled up quite a piece.” He gave Harper a significant glance.

Harper nodded. “As if they’ve just come out of jail. They’ve escaped or been paroled—more likely the former, by the way they were acting.”

“That’s how it looks to me.”

“Had they been hitting the bottle?” inquired Harper, sensing a possible lead at wherever the stuff had been bought.

“Far as I could tell they were cold sober.”

“What else can you add?”

“The fellow sitting alongside the driver was another husky, about the same age: Black hair, gray eyes, clean-shaven. He was just as pale-faced, just as mean-looking. I never got a proper look at the third one in the back.”

“How about the girl?”

“Around twenty or twenty-one—brown eyes, brown hair, a bit on the plump side. Attractive, without being a stunner. Wearing a mustard-colored coat, yellow blouse and a string of amber beads. Her hand was up by the window and she had a birthday ring with an opal in it.”

“Somebody born in October. You’re doing top-notch, Pop.”

“Like I told you, I noticed that girl,” said the oldster.

“How were the fellows dressed?”

“All the same—dark green jackets, gray shirts and collars, dark green ties. Looked almost as if they wore uniforms, with buttons and insignia removed. Never seen anyone wearing that sort of rigout. Have you?”

“No,” admitted Harper. “It doesn’t resemble prison garb, either.” He continued his cross-examination a few more minutes, then finished with, “Have you a telephone here?”

“Sure. Come round the back.”

The voice in the earpiece growled, “State police barracks. Captain Ledsom.”

“My lucky day,” remarked Harper, unconsciously confirming theories at the other end. “You’re the very man I want.”

“Who’s speaking?”

“Harper. Remember me?”

“Ah, so you’ve thought up something you forgot to tell us?”

“I gave you all I had at that time. I’ve since dug up a bit more.”

“Such as what?”

“The car you want is a recent model green Thunderbug, carrying three fellows and a girl. I have descriptions of all but one of the men.”

Ledsom exploded, “Where the blazes did you get all this?”

Grinning to himself, Harper told him where and how.

“Why don’t you join the cops and have done with it, instead of fooling around with germ-chivvying gadgets?” Ledsom demanded.

“Because I’m a couple of inches too short, six inches too wide, detest discipline and want to go on living.”

Giving a deep grunt, Ledsom said, “I’ll send a car out there right away. Maybe the boys will pick up something else. Meanwhile, you’d better give me the dirt you’ve collected.”

Harper recited it, finished, “Obviously there are now two leads I couldn’t follow, even if I wanted. They are properly your work because you have the facilities. First, have any three fellows answering these descriptions been let out of prison or climbed the walls recently? Secondly, has any young girl answering this description been reported missing of late?”

A tolerant chuckle sounded before Ledsom replied, “We’ll tend to those, and about six more angles you’ve missed.”

“For example?”

“Where did they get the clothes they’re wearing, the money they’re spending, the car they’re using, the gun they fired?” He was quiet a moment, then continued, “We’ll send out a flier that may bring us the answers. With luck, we’ll learn the tab-numbers on that Thunderbug. Ten to one it’s stolen.”

“I could push on along this route and perhaps learn more,” said Harper. “They may have stopped for beer or a meal, and talked out of turn within somebody’s hearing. But why should I bother? What do I pay taxes for? I have business of my own to do.”

“You’re arguing with yourself, not with me,” Ledsom pointed out. “Nobody’s asking or expecting you to do anything.” He hurried on with, “Of course, we really do appreciate the part you’ve played so far. It shows fine public spirit. Things would be easier for us if everyone were as helpful.”

Harper removed the phone from his ear, stared at it suspiciously, put it back and said, “Why can’t they have visiscreens on these things in rural areas?”

“What has that to do with anything?”

“One could watch a guy’s expression while he’s plastering on the butter.” He hooked the phone, turned, said to the oldster, “They’re coming straight out. You’d better see if you can recall any item you may have overlooked. They’ll need everything you can give them.”

Returning to his car, Harper set about his normal affairs, confident that so far as he was concerned the episode was finished.

He stopped at the next town, found a suitable hotel, booked a room for the night and took in a show during the evening. He listened to the midnight news before going to bed, but it made only brief mention of the killing.

The stereoscopic video gave the murder a little more attention, with pictures of troopers and deputies searching the loop-road.

Both radio and video were more interested in vagaries of the weather, sports results, the round-the-globe race, and a complicated legal battle between the government and the Lunar Development Company.

He had a sound sleep, arose at eight, breakfasted and spent the morning at the Schultz-Masters Research Laboratories. They needed certain special micromanipulators, and displayed the flattering attitude that only Harper could make them. At one o’clock he left, with two tough technical problems solved, two more yet to be considered and a provisional order in his pocket.

After a meal he started homeward and at three-thirty was halted by a prowl car at a point forty miles from the scene of yesterday’s shooting. One of the two troopers in the car got out and came toward him.

He watched the approach with surprised interest, because the oncomer’s mind was warily broadcasting, “ Maybe and maybe not; but if so, he won’t get away with U this timer

“Something wrong?” Harper asked.

“You Wade Harper?”

“Yes.”

“A call went out for you half an hour ago; Captain Ledsom wants to see you.”

“I saw him yesterday.”

“This is today,” the trooper reminded.

“Can I talk to him on your short-wave?”

“He wants you in person.”

“Any idea why?”

The other shrugged. His mind showed that he did not know the reason but viewed Harper as a major suspect, merely because he was wanted. It showed also that he and his companion were ready to cope in effective manner with any refusal.

“Mean to say I’ve got to take time off and go all the way to the barracks?”

“That’s how it is. Turn her around and get going. Make it a steady pace, not too fast, and no monkey tricks. We’ll be right behind.”

Feeling rather peeved, Harper did as instructed. It wasn’t that he was in a great hurry—in fact, he had time to spare-but he disliked being given peremptory orders without adequate motive.