"Here's home," Freeman said and brought the car to a stop.
Johnny raised his head. He stared at a low-built log cabin, set in a clearing with trees overshadowing it. It looked good and safe to him.
"No problem," Freeman said as he got out of the car. "You can rest up here."
He half carried, half dragged Johnny into the cabin that consisted of a living-room, two bedrooms and a shower room. It was sparsely furnished and one side of the living-room was lined with books.
Freeman got Johnny into the smaller bedroom and propped him up against the wall. Then he stripped off the cotton coverlet on the bed and with care, steered him around and got him onto the bed. "Just relax," Freeman said and went away.
Johnny's ankle hurt so badly, he only half registered what was going on. He lay on the bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling, not believing this was happening to him.
Freeman returned with a glass of ice cold beer in his hand.
"Drink this." He gave Johnny the beer. "I'll look at your ankle."
Johnny drank the beer in one gorgeous gulp. He set the glass down on the floor.
"Thanks! Man! Did I need that!"
"It's a bad sprain," Freeman told him. He had got Johnny's shoe and sock off. "It can be fixed. In a week, you'll be able to walk."
Johnny half sat up.
"A week?"
"You're safe here, friend," Freeman said, "No one ever comes here. Maybe you're a stranger in this district. I'm known as the Snake Man, and you have no idea the horror people have of snakes."
Johnny stared at him.
"Snakes?"
"I catch snakes. It's a living. I work with the hospitals. They're always yelling for serum: I supply them. Right now I have three hundred venomous snakes in cages behind this cabin. People keep clear of me." While he was talking, he bound Johnny's ankle with a bandage soaked in iced water. Already the pain was lessening. "Feel like eating? I've been out all morning and I haven't had a bite. Want to join me?"
"I could eat a horse," Johnny said.
Freeman chuckled.
"That's something not on the menu," he said. "Won't be long."
Within ten minutes he came back with two soup plates full of thick, savoury-smelling stew. He sat on the end of the bed, handed Johnny one of the plates and began to eat. When Johnny had finished, he decided it was about the best meal he had eaten in years.
"You're some cook!" he said. "Never tasted anything so good."
"Yes . . . rattlesnake meat when cooked the right way, is pretty good," Freeman said, collecting the plates.
Johnny's eyes opened wide.
"That snake meat?"
"I live on it."
"Well, for God's sake!"
Freeman laughed.
"A lot better than horse." He went away and Johnny heard him washing up.
After a while, Freeman came back into the small bedroom.
"I've things to do," he said. "You don't have to worry. No one comes here. I'll be back in three or four hours." He eyed the beginning of a beard on Johnny's face. "Want to shave? I have a cordless."
Johnny shook his head.
"I reckon on growing a beard."
The two men looked at each other, then Freeman nodded.
"Take a nap. I'll lock you in," and he went away.
Although his head and his ankle still ached, Johnny slid into sleep. When he awoke the light was fading and he felt a lot better. His headache had gone away, but his ankle still bothered him.
Lying there, looking out of the window, watching the sun sink behind the trees, he wondered about Freeman. An oddball, he told himself, but someone he felt he could trust. Instinctively, he was sure of that.
He turned his thoughts to Massino. Having worked so long for him, Johnny could guess how he was reacting: like an enraged bull.
How long would it be before he went to Tanza and asked the organization to take over? Maybe the organization was already hunting for him. Johnny thought of all that money stashed away in the left- luggage locker. He thought of Sammy. He would have to get in touch with him. AS soon as his ankle was mended, he would have to telephone him and explain why he had had to take his savings. Sammy might be able to tell him what action Massino was taking.
He saw a movement through the open window and his hand flew to his gun. Then he relaxed as he saw Freeman coming across the clearing, carrying a burlap sack that jerked and writhed in his grasp.
Snakes!
Johnny grimaced.
What a way to earn a living!
Five minutes later, Freeman came into the bedroom, carrying two glasses of ice cold beer.
"How's the ankle?" he asked, giving Johnny one of the glasses and then sitting on the end of the bed. "Still hurts, but nothing bad."
"I'll take a look at it in a moment." Freeman drank, sighed, then set down the half-empty glass. "I found three Cottonmouths. You've brought me luck." He smiled, "Do I ask your name, friend or would you rather I didn't?"
"Call me Johnny." A pause, then Johnny said, "Do you always treat strangers the way you're treating me?"
"You're the first. Yes, I believe in helping people when I can. A long time ago I needed a lot of help myself and someone came along and helped me. It's something I remember. Cast your bread upon the waters." Freeman chuckled. "I'm not a religious man, but that saying makes sense to me. There's one thing I've learned, living the way I do and that's not to ask questions and to accept people on face value."
"That's as good a rule as any," Johnny said quietly.
"I guess I'm lucky you found me."
"Let's have a look at the ankle, then I'll help you undress, I've got a spare pair of pyjamas you can have."
Gently, he removed the bandage, soaked it in ice water, and replaced it. Then he helped Johnny out of his jacket.
Only for the briefest moment did Freeman pause when he saw the gun holster and the gun. Then he waited until Johnny unbuckled the harness and put the gun down by his side.
"That's part of my trouble, Johnny said.
"I guess it's part of a lot of people's troubles these days," Freeman said. "Let's get your pants off," and he gently drew Johnny's trousers over the injured ankle.
There was a tinkling sound and Freeman looked down. He bent and picked up something, then looked at Johnny. "Is this yours?" he asked. "It dropped out of your trousers' cuff."
He held out his open palm.
Lying in the middle of his palm was the St. Christopher medal.
Johnny lay staring out of the open window at the moon-lit jungle. From the other bedroom, he could hear Freeman snoring softly. He held the St. Christopher medal in his hand.
It had come back to him, he was thinking, but at what a cost!
All the time he had been searching for it, it had been in his trousers' cuff as if jeering at him! Had it not been for the medal he would have still been working for Massino, helping him in the search for the missing money! Because he panicked, believing the medal was in Andy's office, he was now on the run. He felt like throwing the medal out of the window and cursing it, but he was too superstitious to do this.