Alapertane already was half-awake. Two big bangs were going to bring it fully awake and on its toes. Somehow he’d have to get out before they copied the Pertane tactic and ringed the town with troops.
CHAPTER XI
This was a time when he regretted the destruction of Pigface’s card in that explosion at Radine. He could do with it now. Equally he was sorry that he’d given Sagramatholou’s badge to Skriva. Despite looking as much like a Kaitempi agent as a purple porcupine, either the card or badge would have enabled him to commandeer any civilian car in town simply by ordering its driver to take him wherever he wished to go, shut up and do as you’re told.
He had one advantage: the hunters had no real description of Sagramatholou’s killer. Possibly they were shooting in the dark by seeking the elusive Colonel Halopti. Or perhaps they were chasing a purely imaginary description which the Kaitempi had tormented out of its captives. It wasn’t likely that they’d be eagerly sniffing around for an elderly, slightly befuddled civilian who wore glasses and was too daft to know one end of a gun from the other.
All the same, they would quiz anyone they caught leaving town in a hurry at this particular time, even if he looked the soul of innocence. They might take it further by searching every outward traveller in which event he’d be damned by possession of a gun and a large sum of money. They might also hold any and every suspect pending a thorough check of identities. That also would get the noose round his neck. The Board of Maritime Affairs had never heard of him.
Therefore escape by train was out of the question. The same applied to long-distance buses. They’d all be watched Ten to one the entire police network was ready to take up the relent-less pursuit of any car reported stolen; they would assume that the culprit might have dumped one dyno intending to steal another. It was too late in the day to acquire another car by buying it outright. But… hah, he could do what he’d done before. He could rent one.
It took him quite a while to find a hire-and-drive agency. The evening was drawing in, many businesses already had shut for the night, others were near their closing time. In one way that might be a help: maybe the lateness of the hour would cover his haste and get him prompt service.
“I wish to rent that bullnozed sportster for four days. Is it available at once?”
“Yar.”
“How much?”
“Thirty guilders a day. That’s one-twenty.”
“I’ll take it.”
“You want it right away?”
“Yar, I do.”
“I’ll have it made ready for you and get you the bill. Take a seat. Won’t keep you more than a few minutes.” The salesman went into a small office at back. The door swung slowly and had not quite closed when his voice penetrated the gap, saying, “A renter in a hurry, Siskra. He looks all right to me. But you’d better call and tell them.”
Mowry was out the front, down the street and around two corners before the unseen Siskra had time to finish dialling. He’d been out-thought. The hunt was a move ahead of him. All renting agencies had been warned to report every applicant for a car. Only a narrow door-gap had saved him. If it had closed and silenced the voice he’d still have been sitting there when a carload of agents burst in.
“Why d’you want this dyno, hi? Where d’you plan to go with it? Wbere d’you live? Who are you, anyway? Hold your arms up while we have a look at your pockets.“His back was sticky with sweat as he put plenty of distance between him and the dyno-dump. He threw away his glasses and was mighty glad to be rid of them. A bus came along bearing the sign: Airport. Now he remembered that he’d passed an airport on the road coming in. Wasn’t likely that Alapertane had more than one of them. Undoubtedly the port itself would be staked right, left and centre, but he did not intend to ride that far. This bus would take him to the outer suburbs and in the direction he wanted to go. Without hesitation he jumped aboard.
Although his knowledge of the town was small his inward journey had given him a shrewd idea of how far he could go without reaching the fringes. A police check was likeliest immediately outside the town where the road left the built-up area and took to the country. At that point all those aboard ‘ could be regarded as leaving Alapertane and therefore fit subjects for questioning. He must get off the bus before then.
Dismounting in good time, he continued walking outward in the hope that on foot he could avoid the checking-post by sneaking past unobserved, say by taking to the fields. Day was almost done; the sun was half under the horizon and light was dimming fast.
He slowed his pace, decided that he’d stand a better chance of getting through in darkness. But he dared not draw attention to himself by mooching up and down the road or sitting on the kerb until nightfall. It was essential that he should look like a local citizen homeward bound. Turning off the main road he detoured at set pace through a long series of side-roads, circled back, regained the main one when the sky was black.
Continuing outward, he concentrated attention straight ahead. After a while the road-lights ended, the shine from many house windows ceased and in the distance he could see the sky-glow of the airport. It would be anytime now. He had a strong urge to walk through the darkness on tiptoe. A bus overtook him, hummed into the heavy gloom, stopped with a brief blaze of braking lights. Cautiously Mowry advanced; got to within twenty yards of the bus. It was fully loaded with passengers and luggage. Three policemen were on board, two of them checking faces and documents while the third blocked the exit door.
On the verge and right alongside Mowry stood a cruizer, its doors wide open and its lights extinguished. It would have been almost invisible but for the glow from the nearby bus. But for the present hold-up he might have sneaked to within grabbing distance before seeing it; they’d have sat in silence, listening to the faint scuffle of his feet, and jumped him as he came abreast of them.
Calmly he got into the cruizer, sat behind its wheel, closed the doors and started the dynomotor. On the bus an irate cop was yelling at a frightened passenger while his two fellows looked on with cynical amusement. The click of door-locks and the low whine of a motor went unheard during this stream of abuse. Rolling the cruizer off the verge and onto the road, Mowry switched on the powerful headlights. Twin beams pierced the night, bathed a long stretch of road in shining amber, filled the bus with their glare. He accelerated past the bus, saw the three cops and a dozen passengers staring out at him.
He bulleted ahead feeling that the fates had been kind and compensated for recent ill fortune. It was going to be some time before the alarm went out and the pursuit commenced. By the looks on the faces of those police they had not realised that it was their own car shooting past. Perhaps they thought he was a motorist who’d taken advantage of their preoccupation to slip by unquestioned.
But it was likely they’d take action to prevent a repetition. Two of them would continue to browbeat the bus passengers while the thixd went out to catch any more sneakers. In that event the third could hardly fail to notice the absence of the cruizer.
That’s when the fun would start. He’d give a lot to see their faces. No cruizer meant no radio either. They’d have to rush the bus to the far-off airport, or stir their lazy legs and run like mad to the nearest house with a telephone. Better still, they’d have to make a humiliating confession over the line and take a verbal beating-up from the other end.