Up in the loft, Miss Blandish first heard the shot, then the metallic voice. She realized the moment she had been dreading in a vague, half-conscious way for the past four months was approaching. In a little while she would be free, and the real misery and hell of her experience would begin.
She crawled to the open trap and looked down. She saw Slim standing with his back to her, peering through a chink in the barn door. His thin black back was tense. She saw the gun in his hand. She heard him muttering to himself. There was now silence outside. Her concentrated stare conveyed itself to him.
He turned slowly, and they looked at each other. He, standing by the door, sweating and shaking, and she, lying stretched on the floor, her head and shoulders framed by the trap, looking down at him. They stared at each other for a long time. His face was glistening in the dim light of the barn. His lips came off his teeth and he swore at her, calling her obscene names, hurling them at her in his panic and fear.
She listened, hoping he would eventually shoot her. With all the strength of her mind, she willed him to lift his gun and release a bullet into her, but he did nothing but curse her, glaring at her with his feverish, yellow eyes.
A sound outside made him jerk around. He saw a movement behind the farm cart and he fired. The bang of the gun echoed in the silence. He saw a puff of dust and white splinters of wood fly from the side of the cart.
Once more the loud metallic voice called to him to come out.
“Grisson! We’re waiting! You can’t get away! Come on out with your hands in the air!”
Panic now flooded his mind. His legs felt weak. His thin wolfish face began to crumple like a child’s before it weeps. He slid down on his knees, letting his gun fall to the ground.
Miss Blandish watched him. For a moment she thought he had been shot, but when he began to moan to himself, she drew back, hiding her face in her hands.
Brennan, anxious to get it over, was giving orders to his men. Several soldiers and two police officers got behind the farm cart. Using it as a shield, they began pushing it across the yard towards the barn door.
Slim saw the cart coming. He staggered to his feet, snatched up his gun. In a frenzy of panic and despair, he threw up the bar holding the door in place, dragged open the door and ran out. He fired blindly at the advancing cart, standing in the hot sunshine, his face ghastly with terror.
Two machine guns opened up. Blood suddenly appeared on his dirty white shirt. His gun fell from his hand. The guns stopped as abruptly as they had started.
Brennan and Fenner watched him slowly collapse. His thin legs thrashed for a long moment, jerkily and convulsively, the way a snake dies. His back arched; his hands clawed at the dry dust, then he stiffened and went limp.
The two men, guns in hand, moved across the yard.
Fenner knew before he reached Slim that he was dead. He paused by him for a brief moment. The yellow eyes looked sightlessly up at him. The thin, white, upturned face seemed defenseless and bewildered. The loose mouth hung open. Fenner turned away with a grunt of disgust.
“That’s the end of him,” Brennan said, “and good riddance.”
“Yeah,” Fenner said. He drew in a deep breath, then walked slowly towards the barn.
Chapter thirty-one
Miss Blandish had come down from the loft. The two short bursts of machine gun fire had told her that Grisson was dead. Now, hopelessly, she moved into the darkest part of the barn and sat down on an upturned barrel. She could hear men’s voices outside and she flinched from the sound. She dreaded the fast approaching moment when she would have to go out into the hot sunlight and face the curious, staring eyes of her rescuers.
For some moments Fenner didn’t see her. He stood in the barn doorway, looking around, and it wasn’t until his eyes became accustomed to the shadowy dimness that he did see her. He quickly realized by the tense way she was sitting, how bad this moment must be for her. He moved into the barn and paused when he was some yards from her.
“Hello,” he said casually and quietly, “I’m Dave Fenner. Your father asked me to take you home when you are ready to go. There’s no rush. You’re free now. You tell me what you want to do and I’ll fix it.”
He saw her relax slightly. He was careful not to approach closer. She reminded him of a cornered, frightened animal, ready to panic at the slightest unexpected movement.
“I thought it might be an idea,” he went on, “if I took you to a quiet hotel so you could rest for a while, get a change of clothes and then if you feel like it, to drive you home. I’ve fixed a room for you at a hotel not far from here. There won’t be any fuss. The press don’t know anything about this. You won’t be bothered. You can go in the back way of the hotel and straight to the room. Would you like to do that?”
She looked intently at him for some moments, then she said “Yes.”
“There’s a doctor outside,” Fenner went on. “He’s a nice guy. He wants to meet you. May I bring him in?”
She immediately stiffened, her eyes widening with panic.
“I don’t want a doctor!” she said wildly. “What do I want a doctor for? I don’t want to see anyone!”
“That’s okay,” Fenner said. “You don’t have to see anyone if you feel that way about it. Will you let me take you to the hotel?”
Again she stared intently at him, hesitating, then she nodded.
“I’ll get a car,” Fenner said. “You stay right here and don’t worry about a thing. You’re not going to see anyone. No one’s going to bother you.”
He turned and walked out of the barn to where Brennan waited. A crowd of soldiers and policemen were staring curiously towards the barn. Old man Waite and his two sons were gaping from the farmhouse door. Four soldiers were carrying Grisson’s body to a truck.
As Fenner approached Brennan, the Medical Officer came over. Behind him hovered a nurse.
“She’s jumpy,” Fenner said. “She doesn’t want to see anyone. She doesn’t want a doctor. She likes the idea of going to a hotel. She wants me to take her there.”
The Medical Officer shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s all right,” he said. “She must certainly be suffering from shock. It’s better to let her do what she wants. I’ll go on ahead and fix up a room at the Bonham Hotel. When she’s got used to the idea of being free, I’ll see her. How about taking the nurse with you?”
“I’d like to,” Fenner said, “but I don’t think she’d stand for it. She reacted badly when I suggested she should see you.”
“Well, all right. I’ll get off. I’ll have the nurse stand by just in case she’s needed. I’ll have everything fixed by the time you get her to the hotel. We’ve got to be sure the press don’t get at her. Once this leaks out, they’ll be around like a swarm of ants.”
“I’ll see they don’t get near her,” Brennan said grimly.
As the Medical Officer hurried away, Fenner said, “Will you get all these men out of the way and leave a car right outside the barn?”
“I’ll do it,” Brennan said. “You go in there and stay with her.”
Fenner waited long enough to see Brennan get rid of the soldiers and the police, then he returned to the barn.
Miss Blandish was still sitting on the upturned barrel. She looked up as he came over to her.
“It’s all fixed,” he said, taking out a pack of cigarettes. “You have nothing to worry about.” He offered a cigarette, and after a moment’s hesitation, she took one and accepted the light he held to the cigarette. “Your father thought it would be better to wait at home for you.” Fenner went on, lighting a cigarette for himself. “If you want him, I can get him.”