“You got some imagination,” Grant said, trying to make his voice flat and bored. “Stop thinking so much about me. You packed everything for the baby? And did you put my cable exerciser in the grip?”
“Yes, of course. Everything is perfect.”
It happened right after supper, didn’t it? She was right, of course. That’s when it had hit him, the weakening fear that he was risking his life in this deal — literally his naked vulnerable body. That wasn’t true in other jobs; you risked your freedom for ten years, say six with good behavior thrown in, but in a kidnaping there was nothing but the chair. Grant looked at his watch and saw that seven minutes had passed. Duke must be in the nursery now! He cleared the dryness from his throat and started the motor. “We’ll go around the block,” he said, keeping his voice soft and quiet. “If everything’s okay he should be waiting for us.”
There was no parking space near the Bradleys’ home, Grant saw. Cars were lined bumper to bumper on both sides of the street. And there was no sign of Duke. But they were a good two minutes ahead of schedule. He double parked three doors from the Bradleys’ house, and cut the motor and the lights. Silence and darkness closed about them; along the block only a few windows showed yellow squares against the night.
Grant watched the double doors of the Bradleys’ home, prepared to turn the ignition the instant they swung open. In his mind he could see the sequence vividly — the opening doors, then Duke’s dark figure, bulky with the child in his arms. And he could almost feel his own arms and legs moving as he drove slowly to meet them. And in his imagination he could hear the smooth roar of the motor as they picked up speed and disappeared into the dark...
But the door remained closed.
“He’s late,” Grant said, willing the door to open.
Three minutes passed away — three minutes in which each second died separately and slowly.
“Duke said a minute after, didn’t he?” Grant turned to Belle, his voice strangely high and sharp. “Not a minute before, was it?”
“You both had your watches set at a minute after,” Belle said.
In the rear vision mirror Grant saw a car turn into the block off Third Avenue. A red rectangular light gleamed on the roof of the car above the windshield.
“Christ!” he said softly.
“What is it?” Belle looked at Grant and saw the blisters of sweat that had suddenly broken out on his forehead. “What is it?” she said again, reaching for his hand.
“A squad car.” He put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close as the light from the police prowl car swept up to them. “If they stop we’re just saying good night, see?”
But the police car didn’t stop. It went by slowly, the driver glancing at them without expression, his face hard and young under the shiny visor of his cap.
Grant took his arm from Belle’s shoulders and watched the squad’s red taillight until it disappeared at the intersection of Second Avenue. Then he said softly, “Next time around those jokers will stop and ask questions.”
He wet his lips and looked at the closed door of the Bradley home. “I had a feeling something would slip.”
“He’s only six or seven minutes late,” Belle said.
“We’ll go around the block, once more,” Grant said. “Just once.”
“What do you think happened?”
“How the hell would I know?” Grant said, as he let out the clutch.
The circuit took two minutes. As they came down Thirty-first Street for the second time, the car rolling slowly and quietly, Grant saw no sign of Duke; the steps and sidewalk in front of the Bradley home were empty. And then, as he gunned the motor, a shadow moved between two parked cars and Duke stepped suddenly into the glare of the headlights.
He was alone — Grant saw that as he pressed his foot powerfully against the brake. The car stopped short, swaying on its springs, and Duke limped toward them, his eyes bright and reckless with excitement.
“Get in!” Grant said. “Get in, damn you.”
“No, I’ve got to go back inside.”
“Are you crazy?” Grant’s voice rose suddenly. “Get in, I tell you.”
Duke caught his shoulder with a huge hand. “Now listen,” he said sharply. “Shut up and listen. The nurse woke up. She was sleeping in the room beside the nursery. I—”
“Stay here if you want,” Grant said, staring into Duke’s hard, dangerous eyes. “I’m clearing out.”
Duke tightened his grip on Grant’s shoulder. “We got time, Eddie. The nurse is out cold. She’ll be out for ten minutes. Relax, for God’s sake.” He glanced up and down the dark sidewalks then, still holding Grant by the shoulder, and finally he swung his eyes over the dark windows in the building across the street. “We got time,” he said, in a low, insistent voice. “We look all right. I’m just a guy saying good night to some friends. Listen to me, will you?”
“Did the nurse get a look at you?” Grant asked.
“No, I took her from behind,” Duke said. “She didn’t see anything.” He looked past Grant and Belle. “You’ve got to come back with me. We’ve got to take the nurse and the kid. I can’t handle it alone.”
“Have you flipped?” Grant said, jerking free from Duke’s hand. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“We’re taking them both, Eddie,” Duke said. He was grinning but his eyes were cold and ugly. “If we leave the nurse she’ll blow a whistle on us when she comes around. And that will louse up the whole deal. But if we take her with us and the cops get into it, they’ll blame the job on her. Don’t you see that?” His voice suddenly hardened. “Damn it, what’s the matter with you? We ran into trouble. Does that mean we chicken out? Are you kids or grownups?”
Grant wet his lips and glanced at Belle. She looked lonely and frightened, her eyes large and shiny in the darkness. This was what he’d feared and expected; some freakish development that would make all their planning worthless. The conviction of disaster had become a superstition with him; a certainty based on emotions impervious to logic or reason. “Okay, get moving,” he said to Belle. “It’s okay.”
“But, Eddie—”
“It’s okay,” he said, but he knew that was a lie. They were acting impulsively, improvising to circumvent trouble, and he knew this was no good. “You go with Duke,” he said.
When Belle hesitated he said sharply, “Get moving,” and at that she opened the door and walked around the car. In the glare of the headlights he saw the fear in her pale face. Duke took her arm and said to Grant, “Ride around for ten minutes. We’ll be ready by then.”
Grant let out the clutch and when the car moved away Duke said to Belle, “Come on. We got to work fast...”
Everything was as he had left it, Duke saw, as he entered the nursery. The baby was in her crib, the nurse lay on the studio couch against the wall and the air was heavy with the nauseating smell of ether. A blue night-light cast a soft glow over the room, touching the smiles of big-eyed dolls, gleaming on brightly colored picture books and pull-toys. It was a charming room, warm and scented, luxurious with satin-smooth blankets and big cuddly pillows.
Duke said quietly, “The nurse’s room is upstairs. Pack a grip with her things, enough to last her a week or so. Don’t forget jewelry, perfumes, letters. Personal stuff.”
“Will she need all that?” Belle stood close to him, speaking in a nervous whisper. She was staring at the nurse’s slender figure, at her black hair spread in disorder against the pillow.
“Make it look like she planned to leave,” Duke said, still very quietly. “Go on now, Belle. And hurry.”
When Belle tiptoed from the room, Duke sat on the couch and studied the girl’s pale face. She was breathing slowly and heavily, moving her head from side to side in confusion and pain. In the glow of the night-light he could see the fine softness of her skin. She was smaller than he remembered her. Actually she was more girl than woman, with a tiny waist and small but promising hips and breasts; it was the way she held herself and walked that gave an illusion of height. She wasn’t just pretty, he thought, smiling at her shadowed eyes. She was beautiful, hard and fine at the same time, full of breeding and spirit. The kind that needed training and curbing — lots of it. But breaking them in was fun. And then they worked just that much harder to please you. Like his brother, Hank...