"Sure," Davis said. "Coppinger will handle it. He hasn't any time for Killeano. I'll get after him. Where is she?"
"In the jail. And listen, money's no object. Tell this guy to get down there right away. Then when you've fixed him come over here fast. I want to talk to you."
"I'll be along," he said, and hung up.
I dropped the receiver on its hook and pushed back my chair.
Tim was eyeing me. "Can he do it?"
I nodded. "He's coming over as soon as he's fixed the mouthpiece," I said, and walked to the window.
I didn't know what the hell was the matter with me. I'd never felt like this before. I was cold; my muscles flicked the way a horse flicks its muscles to get rid of flies. My mouth was dry and I felt sick. I wanted to go down to the jail and start shooting. I didn't care what happened to me so long as I could kill some of those rats who'd got that kid in their hands.
"Give me a drink," I said, without looking round.
Tim gave me a whisky.
I faced him. "You better keep out of this," I said abruptly. "I'm going to start a massacre in this town if I don't get her out. It's Killeano or me, and I'm stopping at nothing."
"Sit down," Tim said quietly.
"To hell with that!" I said. "I didn't realize what she meant to me until they grabbed her. I'm going to take the lid off now, and anyone who gets in my way will get hurt."
"Take it easy," Tim said, pushing me into a chair. "I know how you feel, but it won't get you anywhere to jump off the deep end. There's only one way to tackle this. You've got to use your head. If you get wild and jump in with both feet, you'll be playing into Killeano's hands."
I drew a deep breath, tried to grin. "You're right, Tim," I said. "I'm mad right now, but as you say, there's no sense Bi rushing into trouble. Somehow we've got to get her out and quick. But it needs planning. I guess I'll go look that jail over."
"You'd better wait for Jed," Tim advised. "He knows the jail. You can't afford to be picked up."
"Right again," I said. "We'll wait for Jed."
We had to wait a couple of hours. They were the longest hours I've ever lived through, and I wouldn't like to live through them again.
Davis came around three o'clock. The afternoon sun sizzingly hot and he was sweating. He stood in the doorway and looked at us.
"I fixed Coppinger," he said. "He's gone down to see her, and he'll be over here when he's through."
"Sit down," I said, waving to a chair. "Is it true she's signed statement?
He nodded. "They've given it to the press. It'll be in the evening papers." He took out his comb and fiddled with it.
"They've had six hours to work on her before we knew they'd got her," he went on. "That's plenty of time to make a girl talk …"
Tim nudged him. "Shut up," he said.
"That's all right," I said, but I knew my face had gone white. "I'm not kidding myself what those heels have done to her. Well, they'll pay for it." I lit a cigarette while the other two exchanged glances. "Any ideas how we can get her out?" I asked suddenly, looking at Davis.
He gaped at me. "Get her out?" he repeated. "It can't be done. There just isn't any way of getting her out. That jail's like a fort, and Flaggerty has about twenty guards around the outside. I went down there with Coppinger and they wouldn't let me in. They're reckoning you'll try to get her out. They've got a couple of searchlights rigged on the roof, and every guard has a Thompson. They've even got dogs patrolling. Not a chance."
I suddenly felt better. I grinned at him.
"I'm getting her out of that jail," I said.
"I'd like to know how you're going to do it," Davis said, his eyes opening.
"Is this place on the main road?" He nodded. "It stands back a quarter of a mile from State Highway Four. You can see it from the road as you leave town."
"I'll go out and look it over," I said. "When do you reckon Coppinger will be along?"
"About an hour," Davis said. "I'll drive you over to the jail and pick up Coppinger on his way out. You can travel the way you travelled last night."
"Okay," I said, and took out Bat's .38 Police Special. It was a good gun, but I wished I had my Luger. I checked it over, then shoved it down the waist-band of my trousers.
Still want to be mixed up in this?" I asked Davis.
He looked surprised. "Why, sure," he said.
"I'm asking you because from now on there'll be no backing out. It'll be a fight to the finish."
He scratched his head, then shrugged. "I'll stick."
I looked across at Tim.
"And you?"
He nodded.
"That's fine," I said, and meant it.
I went to the door. Davis followed me.
2
Coppinger was a little guy, about forty years old, with a leathery face and a black moustache. His eyes were blue, sharp and cold. He looked sleepy, but there was something about him that told me he knew more than most guys awake.
"She's in a spot," he said, when he finally got seated. I don't know what they've done to her, but they've done plenty." He shook his head, and took out a bag of Bull Durham smoking tobacco and a packet of brown papers. He rolled himself a cigarette. "She acts like she's already dead."
The hair on the back of my neck bristled. "What did she say?"
He lit the limp cigarette, let it dangle out of the side of his mouth.
"She said she killed Herrick," he told me in a flat voice. "That's all she did say. Although I was alone with her, although I kept telling her I was working for you, she just wouldn't bite. 'I killed him,' she kept saying. 'Leave me alone. I killed him and there's nothing you can do about it.' " He shook his head again. "She's a goner, Cain. There's nothing I can do for her. We can plead not guilty, but we can't make a fight of it."
"Okay," I said, "stick around. See her as much as you can, and keep working on her. I wanted to be sure we couldn't beat the rap. Now, I know what to do."
He looked at me thoughtfully.
"I've heard about you," he said. "You've got a reputation. It won't get that girl anywhere if you try violence. They're going to bring her to trial. If she looks like sliding through their fingers, she'll meet with an accident. I know Killeano and Flaggerty. Those boys won't stop at anything, and I mean anything. The election's too close. They've got to clean up Herrick's murder before then. So be careful how you step."
I nodded. "I'll be careful."
"Thinking of getting her out?" he asked, after a pause.
I looked at Jed Davis, who was sitting across the room.
He nodded.
"That's the idea," I said. "I went out there this afternoon and had a look. It'll be tough."
"You won't get her out alive," Coppinger said, "if you get her out at all."
"But that s our only chance."
"I know." He stroked his nose, stared down at his feet. "Even if you got inside help, it'd be impossible."
I eyed him. "What inside help?"
He lifted his narrow shoulders. "There's a guard I know …" he began, then shrugged. "What's the good? It couldn't be done."