Lancing had got the hangar doors open and he, followed by Chita, was moving into the hangar. Carrying the suitcases, Vic ran around to the back of the office and into the darkness of the night.
In the hangar, Chita, standing well away, watched Lancing get the aircraft to readiness.
“Listen, buster,” she said, “you’re not doing this for free. It’s worth a thousand bucks to you if you get us to Mexico. From the look of this crummy joint, you could use that kind of money.”
“Think so?” Lancing said shortly. “How’s about if I crash the kite?”
“Oh, forget it! You’re insured, aren’t you? Get going, buster!”
In the office, as Boswick leaned against the wall, eyeing Riff, he suddenly noticed Riff’s swollen, bruised wrist. It flashed into his mind if he could get close enough to Riff and make a dive for the gun, he could get it from Riff without any opposition. With a wrist like that, the guy was practically one-armed.
“My partner can’t run the kite out without help,” Boswick said. “It needs two men to push it. If you’re in all that of a hurry, maybe we should go over to the hangar.”
Riff eyed him suspiciously.
“Why didn’t you say so before?”
Boswick forced a grin.
“I guess you sort of upset me,” he said.
Without looking at Riff, he walked casually to the window and looked out, Riff, alert, covered him with the gun.
“Yeah, he needs help,” Boswick said, looking over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Riff hesitated, then he slid off the desk. He jerked his head at Carrie.
“Come on! You keep close to me.” To Boswick he went on, “You go on ahead.”
His muscles tense, Boswick walked to the office door and opened it. He was within three feet of Riff. As Carrie didn’t move, Riff, snarling at her, motioned her to the door. In doing so, he half turned his back on Boswick who flung himself at Riff, his hand grabbing at the gun. As the gun was forced down, it went off: the bullet made a hole in the floor a few feet from where Carrie stood.
For a brief triumphant moment, Boswick thought he had got the gun from Riff, but he had underestimated Riff’s strength and he knew nothing of Riff’s years of experience of street fighting.
Unable to use his right hand, Riff stamped down on Boswick’s foot with his iron-shod skiing boot. Boswick caught his breath in a gasp of agony and his grip relaxed. Riff drove his shoulder into Boswick’s chest, sending him reeling against the wall, then snarling, he lifted the gun and shot Boswick.
Carrie hid her face in her hands and cowered against the wall. The big man stared at Riff, blood showing on his fawn-coloured shirt, then his eyes rolled back and he slid to the floor.
A few seconds before the shooting, Lancing had started the aircraft engine. Neither he nor Chita heard the two shots above the noise of the engine. Neither did Vic who had got some hundred yards from the office and had dumped the suitcases in a ditch that ran along the boundary of the airport. He then started back towards the airport as he heard the aircraft engine.
Cursing, Riff grabbed hold of Carrie and dragged her out into the darkness. He started towards the hangar, then paused.
“What’s the matter with me?” he muttered savagely. “I’m flipping my lid! I nearly forgot the money!” He let go of Carrie’s arm, “Wait here,” he snarled at her, then went to the Cadillac, reached into the back seat, groped for the suitcases, groped again, then alarmed, he wrenched open the car door so the roof light came on.
He stared at the empty back seat, a cold fury of rage and fear sweeping over him. He looked in the front seat. Muttering he ran around to the boot, opened it, stared at its emptiness, then slammed it shut.
The money was gone!
He was so stunned, he could only stand motionless, glaring at the Cadillac. A million and a half dollars! Gone! Who had taken it?
Watching him, her heart thumping, Carrie hesitated for a brief moment. To her right, within twenty yards from the light coming from the office window was a dense patch of darkness. If she could reach this sheltering darkness, she might have a chance to escape. She was sure these two would take her to Mexico. This was her one and only chance to get away. If she didn’t take it, she couldn’t imagine what would happen to her once they landed in Mexico.
Like a frightened ghost, running as she had never run before, she started towards the protective darkness.
Riff still stood like a poleaxed bull, glaring at the Cadillac. Who had taken the money? He could only think of the vanished money. Carrie was completely forgotten.
Then he came up with the answer. Chita! A double-cross! Chita!! It had been Chita who had taken his gun! It had been Chita who had dug up the yellow-skin’s body! It had been Chita who had soured his chance to marry Zelda! And now Chita had grabbed the money and was taking off to Mexico and ditching him!
He looked towards the hangar, some two hundred yards from him. Floodlights suddenly came on, lighting part of the runway. Then he saw the small aircraft taxi out of the hangar. He saw Chita come out and move towards the aircraft. Under the bright lights and in her light dress, she was clearly visible not only to Riff but also to Patrol Officer Benning who had reached the airport and was now lying in rough grass, looking towards the hangar. He had seen Riff and Carrie come out of the office, but he had lost them in the darkness. Now, as he watched the aircraft, he saw Chita and wondered what his next move should be. As he lay there, gun in hand, he heard the faint drone of an aircraft. This could be Dennison arriving by helicopter, he thought hopefully.
His mind a white flame of vicious fury, Riff lifted his gun, steadied it on the roof of the Cadillac and sighted the gun on Chita’s back as she paused while Lancing manoeuvred the aircraft on to the tarmac.
In a few seconds Chita would get into the aircraft with the money and would be away, Riff thought. Slowly, his finger began to squeeze on the trigger. It was a long shot. He hesitated. Maybe he should get closer, but if he did, she might see him. She too had a gun. Even as he hesitated, he was automatically taking up the slack of the trigger. Then the gun suddenly exploded with a flash and a bang.
Vic started back towards the lighted window of the airport’s office, the tyre lever clenched tightly in his hand. He had covered fifty yards or so when he came to an abrupt stop.
He saw Carrie and Riff come out of the office. He crouched down in the darkness and watched them. He saw Riff suddenly pause, speak to Carrie and then go to the car.
Vic’s heart began to thump. This thug would now discover the money had gone. What would he do? He looked at Carrie who was standing motionless, outlined against the light coming from the window. He saw Riff open the car door, then he caught his breath sharply as Carrie suddenly sprang into life and began to run frantically towards him. Would Riff see her? Would he shoot after her? But no, Riff seemed to be unaware that Carrie was escaping.
Vic waited until Carrie was within twenty yards of him, then he rose to his feet.
“Carrie! It’s Vic!”
Carrie shied away, stifling a scream, then stopped and looked fearfully at him. She could just make out a dark silhouette, but Vic said again, “It’s me, darling.”
With a choked sob, Carrie rushed to him and he caught her in his arms. She clung to him while Vic looked over her shoulder towards Riff. Relieved though he was to have her safe, he was frightened of Riff. Seeing Riff still hadn’t noticed that Carrie had escaped, Vic looked beyond him to the lighted hangar where Chita was plainly visible. Then there was the choked bang of a gun that made both Carrie and Vic stiffen. Vic saw Chita give a convulsive start and then drop face down on the floodlit tarmac.