I felt a trickle of sweat run down my face.
‘Better not. She wouldn’t want the house left. You stay here, kid. No point in you coming.’
I tried not to overplay my hand, but I must have done it for a look of alarm jumped into her eyes.
‘Glyn! What is it? Why are you looking like this? Has something happened?’
Panic just below the surface nudged my temper.
‘For the love of mike! I’ve been trying to get that goddamn car to go!’ I said, aware I was shouting at her but not able to control my voice. ‘I’ve got to go back and get it going! I should have been here when Dester took off and you ask me if something has happened! Look, go to bed! Leave me to handle this, will you?’
She stepped back. I could see my vehemence had frightened and hurt her.
‘Yes, of course.’
She turned and went quickly up the stairs, and a moment later I heard her bedroom door shut.
I cursed.
If this was the way I was going to play my hand when I came up against the police and Maddux we were sunk.
Neither of us spoke until we were well clear of the house, then Helen said abruptly, ‘Did you have trouble with the girl?’
I was sitting beside her, sunk down in the seat, the wide-brimmed hat pulled well down over my eyes and the collar of the camel-hair coat turned up. I was still pretty rattled, and during the first quick rush down Hill Crest Avenue, I had been thinking of Marian, wondering what she was doing, wondering what she could be thinking.
‘It was okay,’ I lied. ‘She wanted convincing, but I did it.’
Helen looked sharply at me.
‘We could have trouble with her. Why had you to make a fool of yourself over her?’
‘Shut up!’ I snarled at her. ‘I handled her, and don’t drive so fast. Do you want a cop to come after us?’
She slowed down. ‘She could spoil this for us, Glyn. We may have to do something about her.’
‘I tell you I handled her! She loves me. She wouldn’t give me away.’
‘I’m not thinking of you. I’m thinking of myself. She doesn’t love me. I have an idea she doesn’t believe Erle was ever in that room.’
I felt a cold, spooky sensation run through me.
‘You’re crazy! She would have told me if she had thought that.’
‘Did she tell you?’
‘Of course not!’
Again she looked at me. In the light of the dashboard I could see the glitter in her eyes.
‘We made a mistake having her. I’m sure of it.’
‘We had to have her. Now shut up, will you? I’ve got things to think about.’
The highway was almost empty. Every now and then we overtook a big oil truck or a truck hauling oranges to San Francisco. We only met five or six private cars, and they were going flat out, heading towards Los Angeles.
Then Helen said suddenly, ‘There’s a speed cop behind us.’
That really jolted me. My heart skipped a beat and I felt sweat break out on my body. I looked quickly over my shoulder and through the rear window.
She was right.
Not more than thirty yards behind us I could see the yellow light of the big motorcycle lamp and the outline of the flat cop cap.
‘Slow down a little and let him pass,’ I said hoarsely.
Helen eased down to thirty-five miles an hour, but the cop hung back.
‘What is he up to?’ I said, trying to control my rising panic.
‘He’s probably on patrol.’
She sounded as calm as an evangelist at a tea party.
‘He’ll recognize the car. We’ve got to lose him,’ I said. ‘We turn off about a mile ahead of us. He mustn’t see us do it. Pull up! Let him get ahead.’
‘We can’t pull up. He might ask us what we are stopping for and get a good look at you.’
‘We’ve got to lose him! Don’t you realize this is the exact spot where, we’re supposed to run into the ambush? If we go another half-mile, we’re sunk!’
She looked into the driving mirror.
‘He’s coming up now,’ she said and slowed the car slightly.
The beam of the motorcycle lamp shone in our wing mirror. Then the cop drew alongside us. I sank further down into my seat as he went by.
‘He looked at you,’ Helen said softly. ‘He must know the car.’
The cop was pulling ahead now. Suddenly, as if he remembered an appointment, he opened up the throttle and the gleam of his tail lamp disappeared into the darkness.
‘He’ll remember us,’ I said and looked back over my shoulder at the straight empty road. ‘This is the spot where the kidnappers’ car is supposed to overtake us. He’ll remember there was no traffic on the road.’
‘So what do we do?’
Her voice was sharp; she sounded as if she were getting jittery.
‘We’ve got to alter the story. You’ll have to tell them the kidnappers drove out of the road from the forestry station and blocked the highway, forcing you to stop. That’ll fix it.’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t forget: they drove suddenly out of the concealed road that leads to the forestry station and you had to pull up fast to prevent a pile up. You’ve got that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Look — there’s the turning. Slow down.’
I looked over my shoulder. There was no sign of any headlights behind us. We were having some luck after all.
‘Okay, now turn off.’
She swung the Rolls on to the dirt road. I leaned forward to cut the headlights and to turn on the spot lamp.
A five-minute drive brought us to the barbed-wire gate. She pulled up and I got out, opened the gate and waved her through. Then I shut the gate, and walked beside the slow-moving car, directing her to one of the huts. She pulled up outside the hut, turned off the spot lamp and got out.
Up on this hill it was dark and still and as quiet as a graveyard. I felt the cool breeze against my sweating face. My heart was thumping and I was feeling slightly sick.
From my pocket I took a small flashlight and went to the door of the hut. I pushed against it, but it was locked.
‘Wait here,’ I said, and moving to the first window, I broke a pane with the butt of the flash lamp, reached inside and slipped back the catch. I pushed open the window, and climbed through into a small room equipped with a desk, a filing cabinet and a chair. I went out into a passage, listened for a moment, then went down to the entrance door. It took me only a few minutes to undo the screws that held the lock and to take the lock off, then I opened the door.
‘Come on in,’ I said.
Helen followed me down the passage to a door at the far end. I pushed open the door and sent the beam of my flashlight into the darkness. I could see the room was big. There was a table in the middle of the room and four or five wooden crates stacked against a wall.
‘This’ll do,’ I said. ‘We’d better not put on the light. It might be seen from the highway.’
Helen stood near me, looking around the room. I could hear her light, quick breathing.
Around one of the crates was a thin cord. I took out my penknife, cut the cord from it, and cut two short lengths. I put the flashlight on the top of a crate, turning the beam on to Helen. She was watching me. Her face was tense and pale, but she didn’t look scared.
‘You’ll be okay,’ I said. ‘The staff will be here early. You won’t have more than six hours to wait before you’re found. You know the story. You’ll be so shaken and hysterical they won’t get much from you. They’re certain to call the cops.’
‘I know what we planned,’ Helen said curtly. ‘I’m not scared.’
I laid the two lengths of cord on the table. My heart was slamming against my ribs.
‘This is it. There’ll be no turning back now. Once they find you, we’re in it up to our necks. Do you still want to go ahead?’