We'll Share A Double Funeral
by
James Hadley Chase

     Also by James Hadley Chase

     Believe This, You'll Believe Anything We'll Share A Double Not
Safe to Be Free Cade this is for Real Funeral Trusted Like the Fox
Shocktreatment But A Short Time to Live the Doll's Bad News James
Hadley Chase My Laucjh Comes Last the Flesh of the Orchid the Soft
Centre Do Me A Favour - Drop Dead Knock, Knock!  Who's There?
     So What Happens to Me?
     The Wary Transgressor Come Easy, Go Easy Hit and Run Figure it Out
For Yourself Why Pick on Me?
     A Paw in the Bottle Believed Violent A Can of Worms An Ear to the
Ground You Can Say That Again Tf,'E Whiff of Money Try this One for
Size You've Got it Coming the Fast Buck Lay Her Among the Lilies
Goldfish Have No Hiding Place Make the Corpse Walk Safer Dead Hand Me A
Fig Leaf Have A Nice Night

     And Published by Corgi Books

     E@4

     Corgi Books

     We'll Share A Double Funeral A Corgi Book 0 552 12275 0

     Originally published in Great Britain by Robert Hale Limited

     PRINTING HISTORY Robert Hale edition published 1982 Corgi edition
published 1983
     Copyright @ James Hadley Chase 1982
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that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold,
hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent
in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is
published and without a similar condition including this condition
being imposed on the subsequent purchaser 2. This book is sold subject
to the Standard Conditions of Sale of Net Books and may not be re-sold
in the UK below the net price fixed by the publishers for the book.

     This book is set in IO/ II Paladiurn

     Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers Ltd Century
House, 61-63 Uxbridge Road, Ealing, London W5 5SA Made and printed in
Great Britain by Hunt Barnard Printing Ltd Aylesbury, Bucks.
     With a sigh of content, Sheriff Ross settled his bulky body into
the big armchair before the TV set.
     'That was a fine dinner, Mary,' he said, 'and you're a fine cook.'
'Well, as long as you are satisfied,' his wife said as she began to sta
ck the dishes.  'My ma was a better cook, but I reckon I'm not so bad.'
She paused to listen to the rain hammering down on the roof of the
bungalow.  'What a night!' Ross, around fifty-three, big, balding, with
a pleasant sun-tanned face, nodded agreement.
     'About the worst we have had for months.' He reached for his pipe,
looking affectionately at his wife, whom he had married some thirty
years ago.
     Regarding her, he remembered her as a young girl, bright-eyed with
long dark hair.  Now, thirty years on, Mary had filled out, but she
still had magic for him.
     He had often told himself how lucky he had been to have had her as
a partner and companion over thirty years.
     Ross had had a good, unsensational career.  He had left school to
become a military policeman, then the war over, he became a Highway
Patrol officer, attached to the Miami headquarters, then, because he
was liked and trusted, he had been elected Sheriff of Rockville.  He
wasn't an ambitious man.  To be Sheriff of Rockville was no great
shakes, but it suited him and, more important, it suited Mary.  The
money was acceptable, and they were content to live modestly.
     They had this comfortable bungalow, attached to the Sheriff's
office.  All Ross had to do was to walk through a doorway from his
living-room to reach his office, and he was in business.
     Rockville was situated in the north of Florida, amid the
citrus-farmers.  The town's population was around eight hundred, mostly
retired farmers, but there was a sprinkling of young kids only waiting
to shake Rockville off their backs and get into some action further
south.  There was a good self-service store, a bank, a garage, a small
church, a school-house and a number of wooden bungalows.  The crime
rate in Rockville was practically zero.  Now and then some kid thieved
from the self-service store.  Some drunks had to be cooled.  The main
highway passing through Rockville brought hippies and undesirables on
their way south, and often they had to be dealt with.  All this was
easy far Ross, and he often wondered why he had been given a deputy,
who did little except drive around, chat up the out-lying farmers,
check on the blacks who worked on the farms and give tickets to the
kids who were speeding.  All the sar@ie, Ross was fond of his deputy:
Tom Mason, a young, keen, good-looking twenty-eight-year-old.  He and
Mason had one evening together each week devoted to the game of chess.
Neither of them played well, and it was a turn-and-turn-about who won.
     Ross stretched out his long legs and sucked at his pipe which was
drawing well and listened to the rain.  Some night!
     Then feeling guilty that, after a good dinner, he should be
already making himself comfortable, he called a little halfheartedly,
'Hi, Mary, are you sure I can't help with the dishes7' 'You stay away!'
Mary called back firmly.  'I don't want you in here!' Ross sucked at
his pipe, grinned and relaxed.  He thought of tomorrow.  He would drive
over to Jud Loss's farm, which was situated some fifteen miles from
Rockville.  Loss's daughter, Lilly, a sixteen-year-old, had been
kicking over the traces, according to Miss Hammer, the schoolteacher.
Miss Hammer, a dried-up, elderly spinster, had come to Ross and had
told him that Lilly, bright enough at school, was keeping undesirable
company.  The girl was going around with Terry Lepp, the town's
Casanova, who owned a powerful Honda motorcycle, and all the girls in
town fought each other to have a ride.  Miss Hammer had hinted that
Terry gave them a lot more than a ride.
     Ross had hidden a grin.  That was youth.  No one was going to stop
that kind of thing.  Nature is nature.  All the same, he was a good
friend of Jud Loss who ran a small but prosp erous farm.  He would go
out there and have a careful word in Jud's ear.  Maybe the girl could
be cooled.
     Listening to the sound of the hammering rain, Ross hoped it would
cease before morning.  A drive out to Loss's farm in weather like this
wasn't his idea of fun.
     As he tapped ash out of his pipe, he heard the telephone

     bell ringing.  ,j .

     err I The telephone I' Mary shouted from the kitchen.
     'Yeah.  I hear it.'With a sigh, Ross heaved himself out of his
chair and, in his stocking feet, padded over to the table on which the
telephone stood.
     A well-known voice barked in his ear.
     'Jeff, we have trouble!' the trouble?' 'Hi, Carl, hell of a night,
isn't it?  What's

     Ross asked, knowing he was talking to Carl jenner, Head

     of the Highway Patrol.
     'This is an emergency Jeff,' Carl said.  'Haven't time to go into
details.  I'm calling all local sheriffs.  We have a dangerous run-away
on our hands.  This man, Chet Logan, was being conveyed to Abbeville
lock-up.  There was an accident.  Both police officers with him were
killed.  Logan has disappeared.
     This man is dangerous.  He just might be heading your way.  In
this goddamn storm, he'll be difficult to track.  I want you to alert
every farm in your district to be on guard.' Ross sucked in his breath.
     'Okay, Carl.  I'll get busy.' 'Do that.  Here's his description:
Chet Logan: around five foot ten, powerfully built , blond hair cut in
a fringe, age around twenty-three, and he has a cobra snake  going
tattooed on his left forearm.  This description will be out on radio
5md TV within an hour.  He's wearing blue jeans and a brown shirt, but
could have found other clothes.  This guy is really vicious.  He was
caught busting a gas station.  The patrol officer, trying to arrest
him, was stabbed to death, Logan then knifed the gas attendant, who
isn't expected to live.  He tried to make a getaway, using the patrol
officer's motorcycle.  He was nabbed as he was trying to get the bike
to start.  Two patrol officers alerted by radio by the murdered officer
before he in vestigated what was going on at the gas station, had a
rough time with this man.  He cut one of them, before the other clubbed
him.  Now he's loose again.  What worries me is he might get to some
outlying farm and get a shotgun.  You with me7' Breathing heavily, Ross
tried to assemble his wits.  He now wished he hadn't had a second
helping of Mary's chicken pie.  It was the first time in years he could
remember having an emergency like this.
     'I'm with you, Carl,'he said, forcing his voice to sound brisk.
     'The accident took place at Losseville junction, some twenty miles
from you.
     Logan has been two hours on the run.  Warn all out-lying farmers,
Jeff, and keep in touch.' Carl Jenner hung up.
     Ross slowly replaced the telephone receiver as Mary came into the
livingroom.
     'Something?' she asked, her good-natured face anxious.
     'I guess.  We've a killer loose,' Ross said.  'Look, Mary, I've
got to get busy.
     Let's have some coffee.'He crossed the room, tugged on his boots,
then, opening the door to his office, he turned on the light and sat at
his desk.
     Mary wasn't one to ask questions.  Ross had told her enough.  A
killer looser She went immediately to the front door and locked it,
then went to the back door and shot the bolt, then she put the kettle
on to boil.
     Ross made a list of the names and telephone numbers of all the out
-lying farmers.  He was dialling the telephone number of his deputy,
Tom Mason, as Mary brought in a jug of coffee and a cup and saucer.
     Although the time was only 21-30, Tom Mason was on his bed with
Carrie Smitz, who ran the local post office, under him.
     When the telephone bell rang, Tom was thrusting good and deep, and
Carrie was squealing with pleasure.  The sound of the telephone bell
made Tom abruptly cease his activities.  He cursed, then broke free
from Carrie's frantic and sweaty arms and, swinging off the bed,
grabbed the

     telephone receiver.

     The sound of a telephone bell to Tom was like the whistle to a
well-trained gun-dog.  No matter what was happening, the telephone bell
had only to sound and Tom was there.
     He heard Ross say, 'Tom!  Get over here pronto!  We have big
trouble,' and Ross hung up.
     Carrie sat up on the bed and glared at Tom as, without even
looking at her, he began to throw on his clothes.  'What do you imagine
you're doing7' she screamed.  'An emergency!' Tom said, zipping up his
khaki pants.
     'I've got to go.' 'Listen, Stupid,' Carrie yelled.  'Do you
remember what we were doing just now7' Tom zipped up his blouse, then
grabbe d his gun-belt.
     'Sure ... sure.  The old man wants me.  I've got to go!'
'Emergency!  Some snot-nosed kid's got his dingle in a mangle!
Emergency!  What emergency is more important .  . .' 'Sorry,' Tom said.
 'I've got to go.' He dragged on his boots.
     'So what do I do7' Carrie demanded.  'Who's going to drive me home
in this bloody rain?' 'Just stay put,' Tom said as he scrambled into
his slicker.  'Watch your mouth, baby.  See you,' and, cramming on his
Stetson hat, he plunged out into the rain.
     A three-minute drive brought him to the Sheriff's office.  As he
pulled up, he saw the lights were on.  His door and entered, rain
dripping off his slicker and makhead bent against the pelting rain, he
shoved open the

     ing small puddles.

      Sheriff Ross was talking on the telephone.  He hung up as Tom
pulled off his slicker.
     'What a night!' Tom exclaimed.  What's the excitement, Jeff?' He
moved into the big, old4ashioned office, typical of a small-town
Sheriff's office with two cells, a locked gun-rack, two desks and wall
hooks on which hung handcuffs.
     'Jenner reports there's a killer on the run,' Ross said.  'This
guy escaped at Losseville from arrest and could be heading our way.
Instructions are to call all out-lying farms in our district and warn
the farmers to hide their guns, lock their homes and keep indoors.
This guy seems to be real vicious: he killed an officer trying to
arrest him and he's killed a gas-station attendant.  I've listed the
farms to call and the killer's description.  You get on the other phone
and let's get moving.' He handed Tom a sheet of paper, then began
dialling.
     This was the first piece of action Tom had experienced since he
had been appointed Deputy Sheriff and his eyes fit up.  Carrie Smitz
forgotten, he went to his desk and pulled the second telephone towards
him.
     The warning to the farmers took longer than either of the men
anticipated.
     First, the farmers wanted more details.  They seemed to take the
news as a joke.  It wasn't until both Ross and Tom began to bark at
them that they slowly came to realise the seriousness of the situation.
     'Keep indoors?' one farmer said and laughed.  'Who the hell would
want to go out on a night like this?  It's raining up here fit to drown
a duck.' 'Ted, be serious!' Ross barked.  'Hide your shotgun.  This guy
could make a break-in.  His description will be on TV and radio in a
while.  This guy's a killer.
     I 'Well, what the hell do we have cops for?' the farmer demanded.
'If it's that bad, we need protection out here.' Ross contained his
feeling of exasperation.
     'Right now, Ted, you've got to look after yourself and your
family.  There's a big search going on, but he could visit you.' 'If he
does, I'll shoot his balls off,' the farmer said, a quaver in his
voice.
     'Do just that,' Ross said and hung up.
     Tom was having the same kind of trouble - The various farmers he
called kept asking to speak to Ross, but Tom hammered home the message.
     'The Sheriff is calling other folk,' he explained.  'Keep indoors
and hide your gun.' After an hour of this, Ross dialled Jud Loss's
number.  Loss's farm was the nearest to Rockville and Ross had left him
till the last.  He had decided first out-lying farms, then the near
farms.
     Tom had finished his rota.  Every farmer on his list had been
warned, but he felt frustrated.  Why couldn't these dopes understand a
simple thing like this?
     Why must they yak, laugh and not take him seriously?
     Ross said, 'I'm not getting any answer from Jud Loss.' Tom
stiffened.
     'He's probably in bed.' 'Could be.' Ross listened to the burr-burr
sound on the telephone line, settled his big frame more comfortably and
waited.
     Both men were aware of the sound of the rain hammering on the roof
of the office.
     ,Still no answer,' Ross said.
     The two men looked at each other.
     'He can't be out,' Tom said uneasily.
     'I guess someone should be answering by now.  There's Doris and
Lilly.  They can't all be out.' Ross broke the connection, then dialled
again.
     Tom became aware that tension was building up in the office.  He
sat back, watching Ross as he held the receiver to his ear.  Finally,
after a long three minutes, Ross hung up.
     'No one's answering.' 'Do you think ... ?'Tom began and stopped.
     'Someone should be answering.  I don't like it, Tom.' Ross dialled
the number again, but again there was no answer.
      'I'll go up there and take a look-see,' Tom said.  'There's
nothing for me to do here now.'He reached for his slicker.
     'Well, I guess,'Ross said reluctantly.  'Yeah.  They could be in
trouble.  Be careful, Tom.  That'll be a nasty drive.' As Tom put on
his slicker, he wasn't thinking about the drive, he was thinking that
maybe somewhere around the farm, a run-away, vicious killer might be
lurking.
     He checked his .38 police special as Ross watched him.
     'I'll alert Jenner,' Ross said.  'Maybe he can get a couple of his
men up there.
     I don't like you going up on your own, Tom.' Tom forced a grin.
     'Could be they have their TV at full blast and don't hear the
phone,' he said without much hope.  'Still, I'd better check.' He put
on his Stetson.  'I'll keep in touch on the radio.' 'I'll be listening.
 Be careful, Tom.' 'You bet,' and Tom went out into the drowning rain.
     Jud Loss's farm consisted of a comfortable bungalow, several barns
and a chicken-run.  The farm was modest, but thriving.  Loss owned some
sixty acres of orange-trees and employed three blacks, and, when
picking time came, some twenty blacks.
     The three permanent blacks had cabins well away from Loss's
bungalow.  They had been with him for the past ten 'years.  They and
their families handled most of the heavy work.
     Tom thought of these black people as he drove up the narrow road
towards the farm, wrestling with the steering-wheel as his back wheels
slipped on the mud, his windshield wipers scarcely able to cope with
the pouring rain.  What were these blacks doing?  Probably at home,
glued to the TV.  He knew them well.
     If there was an emergency at the bungalow, he was sure he could
rely on them for help.
     His big Ford slid in the mud and he again wrestled with the
steering-wheel.
     Not much further.  He switched on his radio.
     'Sheriff?  Mason calling.'Tom was always formal when using the
radio.
     'Hi, Tom I I'm hearing you.' 'I'm now approaching the farm,' Tom
said.  'It's been heavy going.  Lots of mud.
     ' 'I'm still trying to contact Loss.  Still no answer.  Careful
how you approach.' 'Yeah.  I'm turning off my headlights.  I'm on the
crest of the hill down to the farm - I can see the farm now.  There are
lights showing.  I guess I'll leave the car and approach on foot.' 'Do
that, Tom.  Look for trouble.  jenner says there's a patrol car
diverted your way, but won't be with you for at least half an hour.
Look, Tom, maybe you'd better wait for them.' 'I guess I'll take a
look-see, Sheriff.  I'll take care.  Over and out.' Tom turned off the
radio and switched off his headlights.  He sat staring at the farm
bungalow some three hundred yards away.  Lights showed in the
livingroom.  Tom often called at the bungalow and knew its geography.
To the left was the main bedroom, and'in the attic was Lilly's bedroom.
 There were no lights showing in those two rooms.
     Reluctantly he got out of the car, his head ducking against the
pelting rain.
     His hand fumbled under his slicker and he drew his gun.  Slowly,
he began the muddy walk towards the bungalow, aware he was breathing
heavily and his heart was thumping.  As he approached the bungalow, he
heard the telephone bell ringing faintly through the closed windows of
the living-room.
     He felt very much alone.  Up to this moment, his life as Deputy
Sheriff had been easy and straightforward.  He had been proud of his
uniform, proud to be carrying a gun on his hip, and pleased to be
welcomed when he called on the outlying farms.  In his short career of
less than three years as Deputy Sheriff, he had never had trouble.
Even the drunks had been amiable.  Some of the hippy kids had cursed
him, but had accepted his authority.  Up to now, working with Sheriff
Ross in this small town, Rockville, his life had been a bowl of
cherries.
     But now, standing in the darkness, the rain hammering down on him
as he stared uneasily at the lighted windows of the bungalow, still
hearing the faint and sinister sound of the telephone bell, sudden fear
gripped him.  He had never felt such fear before.  There had been
times, when driving his car, he had avoided a head-on crash, when fear
had seized him, but this present fear, that was now gripping him, was
something that snatched away his confidence and made his knees shake.
He was alarmed how fast his heart was beating, how rapid his breath
hissed between his clenched teeth and he could feel cold sweat running
down his back, and a tightening cramp in his stomach.
     He stood motionless, oblivious to the pelting rain, only aware of
his fear.
     Was the vicious killer in the bungalow7 Was he somewhere in the
wet darkness, maybe creeping towards him?
     The cramp in his stomach worsened.  Ross had told him two of
Jenner's men were on their way to him.  Tom drew in a deep breath.  Why
take chances?  The sensible thing to do was to get back into the car,
lock the doors and wait until these men arrived.  Hadn't Ross told him
to wait?
     He began to move to the car, then the faint but persistent sound
of the telephone bell was once again to him like the whistle to a
well-trained dog.
     He turned to face the bungalow.  If he hadn't the guts to go down
there, he told himself, he would never respect himself.  Damn it!  He
was a Deputy Sheriff!
     He might even arrest this killer single-handed if the killer was
in the bungalow, and at the back of his frightened mind Tom prayed he
wouldn't be there.
     Holding his gun in a wet, shaky grip, the safety-catch snapped
back, he began a slow and cautious advance towards the bungalow.
     He paused when he was within fifty feet of the bunga16w.  He could
see the curtains of the lighted living-room were drawn.  The sound of
the telephone bell was much him forward like a beckoning louder.  The
sound drew finger.
     re of them in the He passed a clump of bushes, unawa darkness.  He
was also unaware of the dark shape of a man, crouching in the bushes,
watching him as he moved towards the bungalow.
     The cramp in his stomach made Tom pause, then he forced himself
again to move forward.  With his left hand under his slicker, he
unhooked a powerful flashlight from his belt.  He sent the beam to the
front door and saw it stood ajar.  He stopped short.  The fact the door
stood ajar added to his fear.  He looked furtively to right and left
into the wet darkness.  The only sound, apart from the drumming rain,
was the telephone bell that now stretched his nerves.
     He wished to God it would stop ringing.  the Was the killer
inside, waiting for him7 Why should front door be ajar unless there was
trouble in there7 He peered into the lobby, which was lighted from the
light coming from the living-room, its door half open.  He could see
the steep stairs that led to Lilly's bedroom.
     In a small, husky voice, he called, 'Anyone home?' and switched
off his flashlight.  He waited, then hearing nothing, and after an
uneasy glance over his shoulder through the open front door, he shoved
the door shut with the heel of his boot and moved into the living-room,
familiar to him after so many visits when jud's wife, Doris, used to
invite him for a cup of coffee while he waited for jud to come from the
orchard.  He advanced slowly, his gun at the ready, his heart
hammering, until he had a clear view of the big room .  What he saw
made him catch his breath.
     By the French window, Doris's big, comfortable body lay face down,
her head in a pool of congealing bloodFrom behind the big settee a pair
of boots showed.
     Scarcely breathing, Tom moved forward and peered around the
settee.  Jud Loss's short thick body lay face down, a pool of blood
matting his thick, gingerColoured hair.
     Tom felt bile rush into his mouth and he gulped, then  let the
bile spatter on his muddy boots.  He w as very nearly sick to his
stomach, but somehow controlled himself.
     He looked wildly around the room, his gun wavering in his hand,
but only he, the two bodies and some flies already buzzing excitedly
around the pools of blood were the occupants.
     Tom had never seen violent death before, and the shock paralysed
him.  He stood there, staring first at Jud Loss's body and then at
Doris's body.  With those terrible head wounds, he knew they must be
dead.
     He stepped back into the lobby.
     'Lilly?' Had she been lucky?  Had she been out while this awful
thing had happened?
     He couldn't imagine even Lilly going to Rockville on a night like
this.
     He looked at the steep flight of stairs, then reaching for the
light-switch that lit up the lobby, bracing himself, he climbed the
stairs the way an old man with a rickety heart climbs stairs.
     The bedroom door at the head of the stairs stood open.  'Lilly?'
Tom's voice was a croak.
     But for the hammering rain there was silence.
     Tom stood at the head of the stairs, unable to move forward.  He
thought of Lilly Loss.  He reckoned she was the prettiest girl in
Rockville.  Often, he had had ideas about her, and he knew she knew it,
but at sixteen she was too young, but that, of course, didn't stop her
going around with that creep Ted Lepp.  Tom was sure that if he raised
a finger Lilly would have jumped into his bed as Carrie Smitz, Kho was
nineteen, was always ready to jump into his bed.  Give Lilly a couple
of years, and Tom had promised himself he would raise his finger, but
now, as he stood before the open doorway, staring into the darkness of
Lilly's bedroom, he only felt cold shivers running down his back.
     'Lilly?'he said, raising his voice, then he forced himself to move
forward and he groped for the light-switch.
     Lilly lay face down across the bed, her head a pulpy mess of
blood, brains and hair, her shortie nightdress rucked up, her long slim
legs spread wide.
     She had been as viciously clubbed to death as her parents had
been.
     Turning, Tom stumbled down the stairs as the telephone bell began
to ring.
     He was so shocked, his mind as a blank.  He moved unsteadily into
the livingroom, located the telephone and snatched up the receiver.  He
as vaguely aware that he had dropped his flashlight on he stairs, and
as he put the telephone receiver to his ear t he laid his gun on the
table.
     'Is that you, Tom?  What's happening?' Ross's voice.
     Tom struggled to speak, but he made only stutt ering noises.  Then
he no longer could control the urge to vomit.
     'It's Tom,' he managed to say, then, turning his head, he was
violently sick on the floor.
     He heard Ross shouting, 'Tom!  Are you in trouble?' Tom bent
forward, his eyes closed, struggling to speak.  Dimly, above the sound
of Ross's shouting voice and the hammering of the rain, he heard a
sound behind him.  He began to look fearfully over his shoulder when he
received a crushing blow that descended on his rainsodden Stetson hat.
He fell across the table, unconscious, smashing a leg of the table.
He, the wrecked table and the telephone crashed to the floor.
     Sergeant Hank Hollis and Patrol Officer Jerry Davis sat side by
side in the big patrol car with Hollis driving.
     Every man of the Florida Highway Patrol had been pressed into
service to find and arrest the escaped killer, Chet Logan.
     Davis, aged twenty-five, had been enjoying a chicken ty wife, when
Sergeant Hollis dinner, prepared by his pret had pulled up out'side his
bungalow.  Five minutes later, Davis, cursing under his breath, had
buckled on his gunbelt, thrown on his slicker and Stetson hat and
followed Hollis out into the pelting rain- 'Orders to get to jud Loss's
farm fast,' Hollis said, as he

      started the car engine.  'You know where it is?'

     'I know,' Davis said, his mouth full of half eaten chicken.
'Isn't that swell!  Just when I as having din 'This killer could be
there.  Tom Ma w nerl' son's investigating,' Hollis said, edging the
car onto the highway.  'He's asking for support.' ' These goddamn
deputy sheriffs,' Davis growled.  ,can't they do anything without us?,
'If the killer's there, Mason will need support.' h s Yea ?  If he's
there but uppose he ain't?  A nice tenmile drive in this go damn rain
just to hold Mason's hand.'

     Stop griping, Jerry, this is a job I' Hollis said, a snap in

     his voice.  'Every man on the force is out in this rain.
     Logan's got to be caught!' 'Okay, so we catch him How many medals
do we get?' Davis muttered, then' shrugged.  'A mile ahead, Sarge,
there's a turning on the left, and then up a dirt road.  In this rain,
the road will be a beauty Then five miles further on, if we get that
far, there's a -fork in the road and we go left, and another five
miles, if we haven't bogged down, it brings us to Loss's farm.' He
leaned back, switched on the radio to report to the dispatcher at
headquarters their Position.

     angerous an

     The drive was d d slow.  Once off the high-way, Hollis struck mud.
 Every now and then the car got into a skid which Hollis corrected with
expert ease.
     As the car began to climb, the mud increased, but Hollis kept
going, skidding more often.
     'Man!  Am I loving this!' Davis exclaimed after a while.
     'Here's the fork.  Keep left.  We've only got another five

     bloody miles to go

     'I've known worse,'Hollis said, wrestling the car out of badly
wrong at Loss's farm.  Mason's there.  Last contact is he was 
approaching the farm.  No reply on his radio.  Sounds on the telephone, 
before it packed up, indicate a strug- e. We are diverting two patrol 
cars to you.  al Approach with caution.  Logan is highly dangerous.' 
'Hear you and out,' Davis said.  He opened his slicker and loosened his 
gun in its holster.  'Maybe this sonofabitch is there after all.' 
Taking chances, Hollis increased the speed of the car.
     mile or so, then hit mud again and Hollis had to start The tyres 
bit tarmac and the car surged forward for a wrestling.
     'Man!  Did I choose the wrong job!' Davis exclaimed.  'Franklin 
has it dead easy.
     He sits in the dry and yaks while we poor sods do the work.' 
Hollis reduced speed.  In less than ten minutes, they began to cl;mb 
the crest of the hill.
     'We're nearly there, Sarge.' Hollis snapped off his headlights and 
slowed the car.  He edged the car forward and pulled up beside Mason's 
big Ford.
     Davis went on the air.
     'Car ten has arrived.  We can see the farm.  Lights are showing.  
We're right by Mason's car.' He lowered his window and peered at the 
big Ford, feeling the rain beating against his face.  'Mason's not in 
his car.  We're investigating.
     Over and out,' and he snapped off the radio.
     The two men spilled out of their car into the pelting rain.
     'I'll go first " Hollis said, drawing his gun.  'Give me two 
minutes, then follow me.  You move around to the back.
     another skid.  'I remember .  . . If Logan is still in there and 
makes a bolt, I want you at the back.  Take no chances with him.' The 
radio came to life.  Headquarter's dispatcher said, 'Calling car ten.  
Come in, car ten.' Both Hollis and Davis became alert.
     Davis said, 'Car ten.  Hearing you

     'Report from Sheriff Ross of Rockville.  Something's

     'I don't imagine he is there,' Davis said, 'but you watch it, 
Sarge.' Moving fast, Hollis began to run down the crest.  Davis waited 
until Hollis had nearly reached the bungalow, then he set off fast 
across the sodden, muddy grass,

      circling around to the back of the bungalow.

     Reachi- g the open front door of the bungalow Hollis paused to 
listen, but except for the drumming of the rain no sound came to him.
     During his move up to the rank of Sergeant, Hollis had faced many 
dangerous situations.  He was a man without nerves.  He was determined, 
if Logan was in the bungalow, that this would be the end of his vicious 
road.
     Moving silently, his gun at the ready, Hollis en tered the lighted 
lobby, rain from his slicker making puddles on the polished floor that 
Doris Loss had taken so much pride in keeping immaculate.
     Cautiously, he peered into the living-room.  The first thing he 
saw was Tom Mason's body, lying face downe amid the wreckage of the 
table.  Hollis didn't move.  H

     stared at Mason, and unpleasant facts registered in his alert 
mind.

     Mason should have been wearing his Stetson hat, his

     slicker and his gun-belt.  He wasn't wearing any of these 
articles.

     Hollis's mind moved swiftly.  If Logan was here or had been here, 
he had taken Mason's hat, slicker and gun!
     Was he still in the bungalow?  Logan was now armed with a .38 
revolver and a cartridge belt!
     Hollis slammed back the door and jumped into the room.  Looking 
around swiftly, he saw pnly the bodies of Jud and Doris Loss.  He 
backed out of the room, moved across the lobby and kicked open the dark 
bedroom door.
     That room was empty.  Moving cautiously, he checked the kitchen 
and the bathroom, then returned to the lobby.  He regarded the steep 
stairs, leading to Lilly's bedroom.  Was Logan up there?  Crouching, 
his gun pushed forward, Hollis climbed the stairs, paused at the open 
bedroom door, then edged forward and reached for the lightswitch.  It 
took him only seconds to assure himself Logan wasn't in the bungalow.  
He paused for a moment to stare at Lilly's body, then, turning, he 
rushed down the stairs and into the rain.  He bawled for Davis who came 
from around the back of the bungalow at a run.
     'He's skipped,'Hollis said.  'We have a goddamn massacre inside.  
Take a look.' The two men entered the living-room.  While Davis checked 
the bodies of jud and Doris, Hollis bent over Mason.
     'He's still alive,' he said, squatting on his heels 'These two 
ain't.' Davis came to kneel by Mason.  He turned him gently.  'Hit on 
the head like the other two.' 'The girl's dead.  She's upstairs.' 
Hollis straightens d. 'We've got to get help.  Use the telephone.' 
Davis snatched up the telephone from the floor, then cursed.  The 
connecting wire hung loose.
     'The sonofabitch is playing it smart.' 'Sure is.  He's stolen 
Mason's hat, slicker and gun .'Hollis said.  'In that disguise 
'Listen!' The two men paused.
     Faintly, above the sound of the rain, they heard a car engine 
start up'He's getting away!' Hollis shouted.
     Both men, slipping and sliding in the mud, raced up the

     crest - car, moving fast in low gear, was now

     The sound of a fading as the two men reached their car.  Mason's 
car was no longer there.
     'Call jenner !'Hollis said, scrambling into the car.  'We'll go 
after him!  We could catch him, but alert jennerl' As Davis got in the 
car, Hollis switched on the ignition, then pressed down the gas pedal.  
Nothing happened.
     Davis was pressing the radio button, but no light appeared.
     'He's fixed the radio !'he snarled, groped and found trailing 
wires.
     Hollis.  was already out of the car and peering with the aid of 
his flashlight into the engine.
     'He's taken the distributor head!' The sound of the retreating car 
had now faded away, 'We've got to get to a telephone,' Davis said.  
'Loss must have a cart'  'Yes.  You go, Jerry, 1,11 take care of 
Mason.  Franklin said two cars were coming, but God knows how long 
they'll take.' As Davis ran towards the three barns in search of Loss's 
car, Hollis returned to the bungalow.  He knelt by Mason's side.  
Lifting him, he saw Mason's eyes open.
     'Did he get away?'Mason mumbled, then his eyes closed and he sank 
back into unconsciousness.
     Hollis snatched a pillow from the settee and put it under Mason's 
head, then went out into the lobby and peered into the wet darkness.

     He waited several minutes, then he saw Davis running towards him.

     'Loss's car and the truck are out of action,'he said, coming into 
the lobby'Looks as if we're stuck, Sarge.' Hollis grunte d.
     'Franklin said two cars were coming.  So we wait.' 'And the 
sonofabitch gets away!' 'He won't get far.' Hollis walked into the 
living-room and pulled off his slicker.  'We'll get him.'He looked down 
at Mason.  'This poor guy needs fast medical treatment.  He's in a bad 
way.' Davis looked down at Mason.
     'Think he's going to croak?, 'I don't know.  I guess he was 
wearing his hat when he was hit.  This punk can hit.'Hollis glanced at 
the bodies of jud and Doris and grimaced.
     'A real, vicious killer.' 'Suppose our guys don't make it?' Davis 
said.
     'Look, there's a telephone-box at the end of the road.  How about 
that?' 'That's five miles, Jerry.  No, we wait.  With luck our guys 
could arrive any minute.' 'Yeah.  Okay, so we wait.' Neither of the men 
was to know that the two patrol cars heading their way had run into 
trouble.  Both of the drivers, driving too fast, had skidded in the 
thick mud.  The leading car got out of control and crashed into a 
ditch.  The second car just managed to stop to find the driver of the 
first car had a broken arm.  In the pelting rain, the driver of the 
second car managed to tow the first car out of the ditch, then, leaving 
it, he continued on towards Loss's farm.
     There had been over an hour's delay.
     Chet Logan, wearing Mason's slicker and hat with Mason's gun on 
the seat beside him, drove along the highway, safe for the moment from 
pursuit.

     2

     As Perry Weston drove his Hertz rental Toyota along the almost 
deserted highway, his headlights scarcely coping with the pelting rain, 
his windshield -wipers working furiously, he listened on the car radio 
to some woman screaming pop with a drummer and a saxophone player 
sounding as if they were out of their minds.
     Perry was drunk enough not to care about the screeching voice nor 
the rain.
     He had been warned at Jacksonville airport that the weather was 
turning bad, and 'he must expect to encounter very heavy rain.
     He had smiled at the Hertz girl.

     'Who cares about rain7' he had said.  'Who cares about 
anything?'

     Well, it was certainly raining, that was for sure.  Tamar-row, he 
told himself hopefully, there would be blue skies and hot sunshine.
     He had come from New York and, during the flight down to 
Jacksonville, he had been drinking Scotch on the rocks steadily, to the 
concern of the air hostess who kept giving him a refill.  At the 
Jacksonville airport he had bought a bottle of Ballantine to be his 
companion for the long drive to Rockville.  Well, he told himself, it 
wasn't all that long: some seventy miles, but this rain was forcing him 
to drive at a crawl.
     He looked at the clock on the lighted dashboard.  The time was 
21.05.  Although Perry wasn't to know it, at this exact time both 
Sheriff Ross and Deputy Tom Mason were telephoning the out -lying 
farms, warning the farmers there was a vicious killer loose.
     Maybe, Perry thought as he stared at the rain hammering down on 
the highway, he should have stayed over at Jacksonville.  Although he 
had been warned about the coming rain-storm, he hadn't bargained for 
this gpddamn downpour.  Feeling the Scotch dying on him, he pulled up 
at the side of the highway.
     He searched and found the bottle of Ballantine, unscrewed the cap 
and took a long swig from the bottle.
     Better, he thought, as he rescrewed the cap.  He lit a cigarette.  
The woman was still screeching over the radio and he became aware of 
her raucous voice.
     He switched stations.  The voice of a man, desperately trying to 
imitate the voice of Bing Crosby, filled the car.  After listening for 
a few moments, Perry grimaced and turned off the radio.  He took 
another swig at the bottle, then put the bottle back into the glove 
compartment.  He stubbed out his cigarette and lit another.  He felt 
relaxed and pleasantly drunk.  There was no hurry, he told himself.  If 
he reached his fishing-lodge any time this night, so what?
     His mind shifted to the events of yesterday.  How long into the 
past those events seemed now[ Well, he thought, those events certainly 
started this trip down to his fishing-lodge which he had bought some 
three years ago.  It was an isolated wooden structure, right by the 
river, surrounded by trees and flowering shrubs and some two miles from 
the village of Rockville.  He had bought it for practically nothing, 
but had spent money on it.  It had two bedrooms, a big livingroom, and 
he had put in a modem bathroom and a fully equipped kitchen.  He had 
planned, when he wasn't working in NYC, he would relax at the lodge, 
fishing for black bass, cooking for himself and enjoying a solitude 
that was rare in New York.  It hadn't worked out like that.  It was now 
two years since he had visited the fishing-lodge.  He had made the 
fatal mistake to have married a girl fifteen years his junior.  It 
wasn't her scene to spend two months in some dreary fishingaccepted 
that, but there were often times when he thought lodge, miles from the 
bright lights, while he fished.  He

     of that peaceful river, the silence, the excitement of 25

     landing a black bass and cooking it for a late dinner.  He had 
now been married for two years.  He had done his best, but Sheila was 
one of those Young girls who were never satisfied.  She hated him going 
into his study to work.  She was always interrupting, demanding to be 
taken to some place or the other: places that bored him out of his mind 
.  A fatal marriage, he told himself.  Once the glamour of her young, 
beautiful body became routine, he realised how far, mentally, they were 
apart.
     Then yesterday When Sheila and he were having a shouting match: 
something that was now ha ening pretty well every da

     p Y,

     the telephone bell had run@ Sheila had picked up a small Chinese 
vase which Perry valued and had thrown it at him.  He had dodged and 
the vase smashed against the wall.

     Perry had said, 'Get out of my sight I'

     'You're a goddamn drunk!' Sheila had screamed, and had run out of 
the room, slamming the door.
     The telephone bell was persistent.  For a long moment Perry had 
stared at the shattered pieces of Chinese porcelain, then he had 
crossed the room and answered the telephone.
     Mr Weston?'A woman's cool voice.
     'Yes.' 'This is Mr Hart's secretary, Mr.  Weston.' Startled, Perry 
said, life with you?' 'Oh ... why, hello, Grace.  How's 'Mr Hart would 
be glad to see you this morning at eleven phone as if she had the 
President of the United State O'clock,'Grace Adams said.  She always 
spoke on the tele

     waiting on another line.  s

     'Mr Hart will be leaving in three hours for Los Angeles.  Please 
be punctual.' When the President of the Rad -Hart Movie Corporation 
asked to see you, You said yes, even if you were in hospital with a 
broken leg.
     'I'll be there,'Perry said, and tried to beat Grace Adams to the 
cut-off, but he was a split second too late.  She was an expert at 
terminating a telephone conversation.
     Sitting in the Toyota, with the rain pouring down, Perry grimaced. 
 The interview with Silas S. Hart had t and took another swig at the 
ibneteontshteicgklyo.veTchoinmkpinargtambeonut the meeting, Perry 
reached bottle.
     Silas S. Hart and he had always got along well; there was a 
reason.  For the past four years, Perry had provided Hart with original 
film scripts that had made big money

     for the Rad-Hart Movie Corporation.  This

     Hart had the reputation for ruthlessness and toughness, but, up to 
now, he appeared to treat Perry as his son surprised Perry as he had 
heard so many tales about the way Hart had treated other script-writers 
who had failed to father.  In his bones, Perry knew this attitude of 
Hart's was make the grade, but to him Hart was like an affectionate 
because he had given Hart four money-making scripts.  Fair enough, but 
what would happen if the next script that was already in Hart's hands 
turned out a flop?
     A couple of months ago, Hart and Perry had talked about a future 
film.
     'This time I want something with blood and guts,' Hart had said.  
'We now have to give these morons who pay at the box office something 
to make them wet their pants.  How do you feel about it?  Do you think 
you can give me something like that?  I want something with lots of 
action, blood and sex.  Go away and think about it.  Let me have an 
outline in a couple of months.  Okay?' 'That's the last thing I want.  
I want ordinary people in 'You don@t mean a horror film?' Perry asked.
     a situation that is packed with action, blood and sex.  Ordinary 
people, you understand.  A situation that can happen to anyone, like 
being held hostage, like a bunch of thugs moving into their home, like 
a drunk driver killing a child and trying to cover up.  That kind of 
situation, but none of those.  They've been done and done.  Think about 
it.  With your talent, you'll come up with a humdinger.
     Okay7' 'Sure,' Perry said.  You don't show a lack of confidence  
when talking to Silas S. Hart, not if You wanted to stay his favourite 
script-writer.  'I'll think about it, and let you have an outline of my 
thinking.  Right?' Hart smiled.
     'That's the boyl And, Perry, it's worth fifty thousand Plus five 
per cent of the producer's profit.  This will be a' big deal for you, 
and a big deal for me.' For two months, Perry had struggled to invent 
an original plot that would satisfy his boss.  During those two months, 
Sheila had been at her worst.  Perry had explained to her that he had 
to invent a Plot that would bring in big money,.  so please relax and 
gi e him a ch e to think, but Sheila wouldn't leave himvalone.  
Atatnhcis time, there was a two-week film gala on, and she wanted to 
show herself off with Perry every night.
     'I'm the wife of the best script-writer in this goddamn city,' she 
had screamed.  'What will those snobs think if they don't see us?' The 
gala sessions went on until three O'clock in the morning, and Perry had 
come home so drunk that Sheila had to drive.  The following mornings he 
was nursing a ing tennis, he tried to Put on paper a slim idea that m' 
hangover, then in the afternoons, while Sheila was r)lay -just might - 
Please Silas S.
     Hart.  ight Finally, drunk, he had typed out the outline and ha 
sent it to Grace Adams.  He was now quarrelling w d Sheila so 
continuously that he ceased to care.  ith As he sat in the Toyota, with 
rain hammering down on the car's roof, he thought about his wife.  What 
a stupid sucker he had been to have married her!  He had been 
completely carried away by her vivacity, her sensuality and her youth.  
The fact that all his unmarried men friends were scrambling for her 
acted as a crazy challenge to his ego.  She hadn't been easy to win.  
She had played hard to get.  The red light should have warned him what 
against heavy odds.  He was making big money and was he was in for, but 
he was besotted, and he had won her was marvellous in bed.  His first 
three months, married to able to go along with her constant demands.  
At first she her, had been exciting and he had basked in his friends' 
envy.  Then her demands began to worry him.  He had his work.  Sheila 
did nothing except swim, play tennis and yak.  God!  he thought, what a 
non-stop yakker!  When he was wrestling with a script, she would come 
into his study, sit on his desk and yak about her girl friends, who was 
sleeping with whom, what nightclub they'd go to that night, how about a 
trip to Fort Lauderdale to get some sun?  He had pointed out, with 
growing impatience, that he was working.  Sheila had stared at him, 
then gave him a thin little smile and left him.  That was when she 
moved into the second bedroom.
     'You need your work,' she had said, staring at him, her China-blue 
eyes cold.
     'I need my sleep.' Perry had found consolation in a bottle of 
Ballantine.
     When Silas S. Hart had asked to see him, Perry felt like a man 
driving to his doom.  The sketchy outline of his script he had sent 
Hart, he knew was something any third-rate script-writer would have 
thrown together.
     As he rode up in the elevator to the Rad-Hart Movie such utter 
crap.  It was only because of his rows with Corporation's offices, he 
cursed himself for sending Hart Sheila and the Ballantine that had made 
him do it.  It would have been much wiser to have admitted to Hart that 
he just wasn't in the mood to produce and not to have sent him 
anything.
     He lit another cigarette as he stared through the windshield at 
the drowning rain.
     Hart had given him his usual warm welcome, waving him to a chair, 
sitting back in his big executive chair, his fleshy, tough-looking face 
smiling.
     'I haven't much time, Boy,' Hart said.  'I have to get to LA.  
There are finks there causing trouble, but I wanted to have a word with 
you.'

     was a term of affection.

     Hart always called Perry 'Boy', and Perry believed it do.' 'Want a 
drink?' Hart asked.  'Don't say no, because I He pressed a button, and 
Grace Adams appeared.  She  was tall, thin, around forty, always 
immaculately dressed, and her pale face looked as if it had been carved 
i

     from a slab of ivory.  She produced two Scotches on the rocks and 
went away.

     'Well, Boy,' Hart went on, 'we won't talk about this thing you 
sent me, we will talk about you.  Okay7' 'If you say so,' Perry said 
woodenly.  Although he longed for a drink, he let the glass stand on 
the desk.
     'Suppose we start this little session,' Hart said, after sipping 
his drink, 'by me saying you are the best original script-writer I have 
been lucky to have.
     Together, we have made a lot of money.  I consider you a valuable 
property in my Corporation.  When I have asked you to deliver, up to 
now, you have always del ivered.' He paused to sip his drink, then went 
on, 'Apart from being a valuable property, I like you.  I seldom like 
the people who work for me, knowing they don't like me, but I like 
you.' He smiled, then finished his drink.  'Well, Boy, I have been 
keeping an eye on you.  When I have a property as valuable as you, I'm 
like some woman with a two-million-dollar diamond.  She keeps an eye on 
it, so I arranged to keep an eye on you Perry picked up his glass and 
drained it.
     'That's your privilege,' he said, setting down the glass.
     'Yes.  It seems you have two problems that are inter-fering with 
your work.  The big one is your wife.  The smaller one is drink.  
Right?'

     'I don't want to discuss my wife with anyone,' Perry said, curtly.

     'That's a normal reaction.' Hart moved his b@k to a more 
comfortable Position in his ch air.  'Not anyone; that doesn't include 
me.  I'm special, and I look on You as a partner.  Now, when a man of 
thirty-eight marries a girl of twenty-three, and this man is a real 
inspired worker, he is in natural trouble.  Girls of twentythree want 
the bright lights of life especially when they have married men with 
your kind Of money.  Bright lights and creative work don't marry, nor 
does hitting the bottle.' 'I'm not in the mood to listen to this,'Perry 
said.  'Did you or didn't you like the outline I sent you?' Hart 
reached for a cigar, stared at it, cut it and lit it.
     'Did you7' 'Okay,' Perry said.  'So what7 I tried, but it didn't 
work.  Get someone else to do it.' 'That's not the solution, Boy.  
That's backing out, and you're not a quitter.  Right?' 'I'd rather you 
got someone else.  I have enough to handle without some goddamn movie 
script-' 'That's how the situation looks to you, but not to me.  
There's always a solution to any problem if you look and think hard 
enough.  I want you to cooperate.  I know you can dream up the script I 
want.  I know that, but you can't do it if you are bothered by your 
wife.' Perry got to his feet and walked the length of the big room, 
then he returned to Hart's desk.
     'I would rather you got someone else and leave me to handle 
Sheila.' 'She's 'You're not going to handle her, Boy,' Hart said.
     going to be a pest- I have had a report on her.  She has her hooks 
into you, and she's not going to let go until you have no more money to 
spend on her, then she'll walk out and find another sucker.  I know her 
a lot better than you do.  I've had reports on her background and 
reports of what she is doing while you try to write something 
worthwhile.  She has two boyfriends.  I have their names, but that 
doesn't matter.  She screws around, Boy.  You think she plays tennis 
every afternoon?  She doesn't.  She is shacked up with one of these 
men, having it off.  All she's bothered about is your money.  These 
other two finks haven't money.  If they had, she would have left you 
before now.  My people bugged the motel room where she has it off.  I 
have a tape, but you won't want to listen to it.  You've picked a real 
bad one, Boy.  I'm sorry to tell you this, but I need you and you need 
me.  Right?' Perry sat down abruptly.
     'I don't believe a word of this,' he muttered.
     'You do believe it, Boy,' Hart said quietly, 'but, naturally, you 
don't want to believe it.  I wouldn't either, but 1
     don't make mistakes.  You have to get rid of Sheila.  You have to 
make up your mind that this is your only solution.  My people can give 
you all the evidence for a divorce.  Once you are rid of her, you'll 
get back to your normal writing self.' Perry stiffened.
     'I am not going to discuss Sheila with you nor anyone else,' he 
said, a snap in his voice.  'This is my personal problem, and I'm not 
having anyone trying to solve it for me.' Hart nodded.
     'Before I asked you to come to see me, I did some thinking.  I 
felt sure you would say just what you've said.  It's your personal 
problem, and you don't want interference.  Okay.  I would have been 
disappointed if you had said otherwise.  Now, will you do me a favour?' 
Perry looked suspiciously at this big man, resting in his executive 
chair.
     'A favour?' 'Yes.  To both of us.' 'What's the favour then?' 'You 
like fishing?' 'Sure, but what has fishing to do with this?' 'You have 
a fishing-lodge in Florida some place?' Perry stared.
     'How did you know that?' 'Never mind.  You have, haven't you?' 
'Yes.' 'Right.  I want you to go down there today.  I want you to fish 
and think.  I want you to tell your wife that you have been sent by me 
on location to work on the script you have given me.  As a favour to me 
and to yourself, do this.  Get her out of your mind.  Get off the 
bottle.  Fish and think.  I told you I want something with action, 
blood and sex.  You sit by the river with a rod in your hand and you'll 
produce what I want.  Will you do this?' Listening, Perry realised that 
this was what he wanted to do: to get away from NYC, away from Sheila 
and refind himself in the solitude of the fishinglodge with no one to 
bother him: just himself, a rod and an idea for a script to think 
about.
     He smiled.
     'Okay.  You have a deal,' he said.
     He returned home in time to catch Sheila who was about to leave 
for a game of tennis.  He told her he was flying that afternoon to Los 
Angeles with Silas S. Hart.  He would be going on location, and maybe, 
he would be away a couple of months.  He expected a scene, but Sheila 
merely shrugged.  Looking at her, he saw excitement growing in her 
China-blue eyes, and he felt a sudden cold dislike for her.
     'So what do I do?' she asked.  'Sit around while you're having it 
off with some tart?' you must please yourself what you do.  This is.a 
job, Sheila.  I have to go.' 'I can imagine.  What do I do about 
money7' I'll leave you enough.'He wrote out a cheque for seven thousand 
dollars and gave it to her.
     'You call this enough for two months7' she had said.
     'Everything is paid for by the bank; Sheila.  That's more than 
enough,' and leaving her, he went up the stairs to his bedroom.  As he 
began to pack, he heard her car drive away.  ck to your normal Once you 
are rid of her, you'll get ha

     writing self.  , listening to the rain

     And now, sitting in the Toyota hammering down on the roof of the 
car, he nodded to himself.  Well, he was rid of her for two months.  It 
remained to be seen if he got back to his normal writing self.
     On the telephone, Sheriff Ross was talking to Carl Jenner.
     'Look, Carl, what the hell's happening?' he demanded 'I can't 
raise Tom nor your men.  What's happening?' The tele'I don't know, 
Hollis and Davis don't reply.
     phone at the farm is dead-' 'For God's sake!  I know that!  I've 
been trying that  telephone for the past hour!  What are you doing?' 
'I've diverted two cars to the farm, Jeff.  One of them slid off the 
road and into a ditch.
     The driver has a broken arm.  The other car stopped to pull the 
ditched car free, but now the second car is on its way.  This is a hell 
of a night.  Lewis and Johnson, in the second car, d@n't know the way 
to the farm.  They keep reporting they are on farm tracks and the going 
is fierce.' 'I'm going to the farm to see for myself!'Ross snapped.  
'I've had enough of this balls-upi I know the road to the farm 
backwards.  I'll keep in contact with you on radio.' 'Don't do that, 
Jeffl' Jenner said.  'Wait.  Lewis and Johnson can't be that long.  
I've redirected them.  With luck, they should reach the farm in twenty 
minutes or so.' 'That's not good enough.  I'm worried sick about Tom.  
I'm goingl' Ross hung up.
     Mary, who had been listening, came into the office with Ross's 
slicker and hat.

     'You'll be careful, Jeff,' she said.  'I'll stand by the 
telephone.'

     He smiled at her.
     'Spoken like a true wife of a sheriff,' he said, put on his 
slicker, checked his gun, then slapped on his hat.  'Don't worry.  I 
know that road inside out.'Hegave her a kiss.  'Keep the radio on.  
I'll be in touch,' and he plunged out into the rain.
     The road up to Loss's farm had deteriorated since Tom Mason had 
tackled the drive, and Ross had to struggle to keep the patrol car from 
sliding into the ditches either side of the road.  Driving slowly, he 
finally reached the crest of the hill where he found Hollis,s car.  He 
switched on full headlights, lighting up the front of the bungalow.
     A moment later, he saw two men come to the front door and wave @o 
him.
     He pulled up outside the bungalow and got out.
     'Hi, Sheriff,

     'Hollis said.  'Glad You made it.  So far, my lot haven't shown 
up.'

     Ross grunted and moved into the lobby, out of the rain.
     'What's going on?  Why haven't you been in contact with jenner?  
Where's Tom Mason?' is your car radio operating, Sheriff7' 'Yes, but .  
. .' 'I've got to report to jenner,' Hollis said.  'Davis will show you 
the mess in here,' and he dashed out into the rain and scrambled into 
Ross's car.  In minutes, he was talking to jenner, telling him of the 
situation at the farm.  jenner listened in stunned silence.  .
     'This escapee has gone off in Mason's car, wearing Mason's hat, 
slicker, and he's taken Mason's gun,' Hollis concluded.
     'This punk must be out of his skull!' Jenner exploded.  'This 
makes five murders he's committed in one nightl Okay, I'll handle it - 
I'll get an ambulance and the MO - up to you fastest,' and he hung up.
     Returning to the bungalow, Hollis found Ross on one knee beside 
To@ Mason.
     'Better not touch him,' Hollis said.  'An ambulance is on its way. 
 He looks real bad.' 'He's dead,' Ross said in a cold, flat voice.  'He 
just had time to recognise me, then he went.' Sheila Weston sipped her 
dry martini while she regarded the handsome man sitting opposite her at 
a table overlooking the tennis courts.
     'You play a fine game of tennis, Mrs Weston,' the man said and 
smiled.  'Way out of my class.  I hope, if it won't bore you, we could 
play agairr soon.' Sheila was in almost a professional class at tennis, 
and this man who -had suggested they might play had offered no 
opposition.  That didn't matter.  She liked to win, and especially 
against a man.
     This man, tall with curly dark hair, a handsome suntanneo face, 
had introduced himself as Julian Lucan.  Sheila had regarded him and 
decided he could be an exciting bed partner.  After Perry had gone 
upstairs to pack and she was driving to the tennis club, she had 
decided she now wanted a change of bed partners.  Joey and George were 
beginning to bore her.
     This handsome man could enliven her sex life while Perry was away, 
she told herself.  Seeing the way he was looking at her, she knew there 
would be no problem.
     However, he was a stranger to her.  She hadn't seen him at the 
club before, and she decided to probe a little.
     'You don't come here often?' 'First time,' Lucan said.  'Nice 
here, isn't it?  I drove out on the off chance of getting a game.  Most 
days, I'm bottled up in the City She probed further'.
     'What do you do in the City?, 'I'm a photographer's model.  The 
season's approaching for men's wear, and I'm kept pretty busy.' She 
nodded.  That seemed satisfactory.  -end7' 'Are you doing anything over 
the week

     He gave her a wide, handsome smile.

     'Not if you have something more interesting to suggest, Mrs 
Weston.' She believed in the direct approach.  She had done this before 
and it always paid off - The well-built men on the beach.  The 
good-looking men at the club bar.  Sh them take her somewhere: 
generally t a motel, but e let time, she decided, 0 this she would make 
the arrangement.
     'Well, I'm all alone this weekend.  My husband is away on 
business.' She smiled.
     'Or so he tells me.  Would you like to spend tonight and tomorrow 
at my place?' His smile widened.
     'Nothing I would like better.' She opened her bag, took out her 
card card and pushed it across the table.  -case, slid out a 'That's 
the address.
     Come at eight O'clock.  My help will have gone by then.  We'll 
have a cold supper

     He picked up the card, studied it, then slipped it into his shirt 
pocket.

     'I'll be there, Mrs Weston.  I look forward to it.' 'You may call 
me Sheila, Julian,' she said.  'I have a lunch date.  See you tonight,' 
and giving him a flashing smile, she got to her feet, waved to him and 
walked to the club house.
     Lucan finished his drink, then ordered another.  Mrs Perry Weston, 
the wife of the successful script-writert Lucan made it his business to 
know about successful men.  Weston must be worth a sack of loot, he 
thought.  Well, his friends called him 'Lucky Lucan'.  He seemed to be 
living up to his name.
     Neither Sheila nor Lucan had noticed a thickset man, sitting under 
a sunumbrella, nursing a glass of beer.  He was one of those 
nondescript men you pass in the street and not notice.  His name was 
Ted Fleichman, one of The Acme Investigation's best private detectives.
     For the past week, he had been instructed to keep tabs on Sheila 
Weston.  A daily, detailed report of her activities was to be sent to a 
Miss Grace Adams of the Rad-Hart Movie Corporation.
     Fleichman had watched Sheila give Lucan her card, then he had 
watched her make her way to the open air restaurant.  He nodded to 
himself, then, getting to his feet, he went in search of a telephone.  
He called The Acme Investigations's office and spoke briefly to Dorrie 
in charge of assignments.
     Roper who was 'Dorrie, I want Fred Small.  Is he around?' 'When 
isn't he?  He's lolling around in the lounge, gaping at the girlie 
mags.
     What do you want him for?' 'I need a second on the Weston job.  
Tell him to hustle down to the Long Island Tennis Club pronto.  I'll 
meet him on the terrace.' He hung up and returned to his seat under the 
sun-umbrella.
     Julian Lucan was eating a sandwich, relaxing in the sun.  He 
seemed set for a while.  From where he sat, Fleichman could see Sheila 
talking with three other women as they sat at a lunch-table.  He 
nodded.  She was settled too for a while.
     He finished his beer and waved to a waiter for a refill.
     Half an hour later, Fred Small, a man in his late fifties, wearing 
a pale-blue light-weight suit, yet another of the Acme men who could 
pass in a crowd without being noticed, joined Fleichman.

      'V\That's.  cooking, Ted?' he asked as he sat beside Fleichman.

     'The party across the way in the tennis outfit,' Fleichman said, 
without looking in Lucan's direction.
     Small took a quick, casual glance, then he smiled.
     'Oh, him.  Lucky Lucan.  Man!  There's a smooth operatorl I had a 
little trouble with him in Manhattan.  Usually, he works the big City.' 
'What's his thing, Fred?' 'With those looks, he takes the older women 
for a ride.  All very smooth.  He screws them, and then Puts on the 
pressure, gets them either to pay up or give him a big present.  He 
does well.'

     'Well, he seems to be having a go at Mrs Weston.' Fleichman 
grimaced.

     'Or maybe, she's having a go at him.  Keep tabs on him, Fred.  
I'll watch her.' 'You know something, Ted7 You and I would be on the 
bread-line if women behaved themselves isn't it7' Nasty thought, 'Don't 
leave the men out.  It's the way of modern behaviour.  We'll never be 
on the bread -line so lqng as we can watch and wait.' Seeing Julian 
Lucan get to his feet and move over to the waiter to settle his check, 
Small grabbed up Fleichman's

     beer, drained it and Patted Fleichman on his massive shoulder.

     'Get Yourself another, Ted.  You've got it soft,' and he walked 
casually after Lucan.
     Lunch finished, Sheila parted with her three women friends, then 
went to a call booth.  She spoke to Liza, her coloured heIP-cum-cook.
     'I want to give Mrs Bensinger supper at home, Liza.' she said 
'Something nice.
     I leave it to you.  Then get off.  Have a nice week-end,' and she 
hung up.
     She then went to the changing -rooms, Put on a bikini and went to 
sit by the swimming-pool.  Fleichman sat under another sun-umbrella in 
view of the pool and waited.  His job consisted of waiting, but the 
money was good and he was a patient man.
     As Sheila lay in the sun, her eyes closed behind her big -goggles, 
she thought about Julian Lucan.  Some mani sun she thought, and felt 
the urge of sex surge through her.  Way out of Joey's and George's 
class.  This man could be the lover of all loversl Those grey, sexy 
eyes, his muscles and his confidence!
     as a lovely hunk of man you were talking to,' a 'That w voice 
said.
     Frowning, she looked up to find Mavis Bensinger had taken a 
lounging chair beside her.  She and Mavis were confidantes.  Mavis had 
married a man twenty years older than she, but although he was fat and 
balding and had the disgusting habit of sweating in bed, he was rich.  
Mavis looked elsewhere for romance.
     Happily Bensinger spent a lot of his time in Washington, so there 
were only a few days in the month when he pestered Mavis.
     'I guess,' Sheila said with a satisfied smile.  'I'll know 
tonight.  I've invited him home.  Perry is in LA.' 'Home7' Mavis 
sounded startled.  'Is that wise, Sheila?  I

     'I'm sick of motels.'

     thought you went to a motel as I do.' 'But suppose one of your 
creepy-crawly neighbours saw him7 You don't want a divorce, do you?' 
'Sometimes I think I do.  Perry and I are always fighting.  We haven't 
slept together for a couple of months.  I think I'd like to be free.  
There are so many men to choose from.' 'But think of the money Perry 
makest He does spoil you.  You might not find another man all that easy 
with money.' 'Oh, shut up I' Sheila got up.  'I'm taking a swim.' 
'Well, baby, it's your funeral.  I wouldn't divorce Sam.
     I have only to put up with him for three or four days a Sheila 
took a header into the pool.
     month, and I can spend what I like.' She returned to her home at 
19.00 to find Liza laying the table.
     'I got a nice hors d'oeuvres and two good lobsters, Mrs Weston,' 
she said.
     'Will that be all right?'

     L

      'That's fine,' Sheila said.  'You get off when you've finished.  
I'm taking a bath.'

     She spent the next half hour making herself seductive, and

     she was an expert at that.  As she was fixing her false eyelashes, 
she heard Liza drive away.  Now, she had her home to herself!
     At exactly 20.00 Julian Lucan arrived in his rented Mercedes 200 
SL.  Sheila was standing on the open patio and pointed to the double 
garage.
     Lucan drove his car into the garage beside her Volvo, then he got 
out of his car, closed the garage door and walked quickly to where she 
was standing.
     'Hello, there,' he said, smiling.  'Well, here I am.' The small 
but luxurious house was screened by high hedges and trees.  There was 
no problem of the neighbours seeing Lucan's arrival.
     That Saturday night with Lucan was the most exciting Sheila had 
ever experienced.  For the first time in her life a man left her 
completely exhausted.
     His sexual technique was, to Sheila, like a shot of LSD.  She 
floated away under him, out of her body, which he manipulated in a

     way that made her cry out, clutch him and groan for more.

     She came out of a heavy sleep to find him dressing.  For a long 
moment she didn't know what was happening.  Then she remembered it was 
Sunday and, looking at her bedside clock, she saw the time was 11.50.
     'You're not leaving?' she asked in dismay, sitting up in bed.  
'It's early yet.' He smiled at her.
     'Yes, honey, I have a date in the City.' 'But it's Sundayl' 
'That's right.  These people don't keep Sundays.' He stood before the 
mirror of her dressing-table and adjusted his tie.

     Looking at his long, strong back, Sheila released a long, moaning 
sigh.

     'I'll get you coffee.' Naked, she swung off the bed and put on a 
wrap.
     'I'd love that, honey,' he said.  'Did you have a good time?' have 
to ask ...
     didn't you?' you don't 'I sure did.' While she was heating up the 
coffee which Liza had prepared, she thought of the past night.  This 
had been a fantastic experience!  She mustn't lose this fantastic lover 
I It was a shock to hear he wasn't staying until Monday morning, but 
although she was only twenty-three years she did know that to put 
pressure on a man was of age, fatal.  Next time, they would go to a 
motel.  Then the next weekend, when she could get rid of Liza, they 
would come here.  s into the living-She carried a tray of coffee and 
cup room to find Lucan wandering around, stariig at the various objets 
d'art that Perry had collected.  To her irritation, Perry was a 
collector, and, even more irritating, he knew good antiques.
     'It's a kind of instinct,' he had told her, when they had wandered 
around various antique-shops, something that had utterly bored her, but 
that was in their first months of marriage.  He liked small things.  
Articles she wouldn't be bothered to look at.  He had tried to educate 
her when he had bought a gold George IV snuff-box.  'In a few years' 
time, this will be worth a lot more than I'm paying for it now.' She 
couldn't care less.  Nor could she care less having thrown a valuable 
Chinese vase at him.  Who cared for junk like that?
     Ah, coffee,' Lucan said and joined her at the table.
     'Honey, you are one of the most beautiful women in the world.' 
iving sexual urgeSheila felt a rush of blood, and a dr 'Stay a while, 
Julian.  Please don't go.' He drank the coffee, still smiling at her.
     'With the greatest regrets, I have to go-' 'When will you be 
back7' 'Not for a while.  I will be busy all this week.' Her heart 
sank.
     'When can we meet again?'  He poured more coffee into his cup.
     'We'll have to see.  I don't often come this way.' She felt a 
sudden uneasiness.
     'But, Julian, don't You want ... 7' She paused, then stared at his 
smiling face.
     'Oh, sure.  I loved it, but I have to move around.  Maybe I'll be 
your way in a month or so.  Suppose I give you a caII7' 'I said no way, 
honey.' She was aware that those sexy grey eyes were suddenly hard.  
'And before I go, how about my stud-fee7'

     She stared at him

     , her fists clenched on the table.
     'What do you mean7' His smile broadened.
     'Be your age, honey.  You don't imagine I spend a whole night with 
a woman without getting a fee, do you7 It was good, wasn't it7 You 
enjoyed it.  So 'You mean you are asking me for money7' Sheila said, 
her voice a husky whisper.
     'Let's settle for five hundred dollars,' Lucan said, his smile 
still wide, but his eyes now like chips of ice.  'For a

     full night, I usually charge a thousand, but seeing it is you ...

     She sat for a long moment, motionless, then she jumped to her 
feet, her eyes flashing, her face contorted with fury.
     'Get out!' she screamed at him.  'Get out or I'll call the police, 
You filthy blackmailer!' Lucan shook his head sadly.  He had been 
through this scene a number of times.
     'That's a great idea, honey,' he said.  'Call the police.  It'll 
be headline news tomorrow.  Your husband and the guys he works with 
will love it.  So will all your girl friends.  Go ahead, call the 
cops Sheila felt her fury drain out of her.  God!  What a fool she 
had been!  She didn't care what Perry thought, but her friends 
mattered.  Okay, most of them were having it off with each other's 
husbands, but, so far, they hadn't been caught.  She could imagine the 
gossip.  She wouldn't be able to show her face at the club again.
     'Hurry it up, honey,' Lucan said, seeing her dismay.  'I've 
another baby with hot pants waiting.' They stared at each other, then 
Lucan smiled.
     'Well, you didn't perform badly .  The dinner was good.  Okay-, 
this time I'll let you off the hook, There are times when I can be 
generous.  When you get hot pants again, be seeing you,' and he walked 
from the room.
     When she heard the front door slam, Sheila sank onto the settee.
     God!  What a crazy fool she had been!  s he thought.  When her 
girl friends wanted a change in bed, they always picked on their 
friends' husbands.  That way, there was security.  To think she could 
have picked on a stranger!  Her shame and fury was such, she burst into 
tears.
     Ted Fleichman sat in his car opposite the Weston house.  He held a 
Nikon camera fitted with an F 200 men lens.  He took three rapid shots 
of Lucan as he came out to the sunshine, then, dropping the camera on 
the pas.n senger's seat, he swung out of the car and walked fast to 
where Lucan was opening the garage door.
     Lucan, who w as humming happily, only became aware of Fleichman 
when he felt a tap on his shoulder.  Turning, he found Fleichman 
standing close to him.
     'Hi, Lucky,' Fleichman said with his hard-cop grin.
     'Had a good time7' Lucan closed his hands into fists and scowled.
     'Who the hell are you7' he demanded, not liking the cold tough 
eyes that were probing him.
     'Security.' Fleichman produced his wallet and fla--bed a silver 
badge.  'Okay, no fuss, Lucky.  Let's have it.  The place is bugged.  
You could go away 'or ten.
     So hand it over.' 'I don't know what you're talking about" Lucan 
said, his face paling under his tan.

     'But, Julian ... give me a call.  You'll find me in the book.  So 
long, baby,

      'Don't let's waste time.  You have another client waiting, so
hand it over unless, of course, you want me to mess up your handsome 
face.' 'Hand what over7' Lucan demanded.  'What are you talking about?' 
'Don't give me test crap, Lucky.  She didn't give You any money, so you 
helped yourself to something.  I know your methods.  Come on, hand it 
over or I'll have to get rough w-,th you.' Lucan had had one or two 
unfortunate experiences with security guards.  He realised to tangle 
with this thickset professional would lead to real trouble.
     He hesitated, then took from his pocket Perry's gold George IV 
snuff-box.
     Fleichman produced a small plastic bag.
     'Drop it in there, Lucky,' he said, 'then I'll have a nice Set Of 
your fingerprints.  No tricks or I'll ruin your family jewels.' Knowing 
Fleichman was capable of kneeing him in his most lucrative possession, 
Lucan dropped the snuff-box into the plastic bag.
     'Okay, Lucky, now piss off.  if you show your mug in my district 
again, you're for the cop house.' Lucan glared at him, then got in his 
car and drove out of the garage and away.
     Perry Weston came awake with a start.  For a long moment, he 
didn't know where he was, then realised he was still sitting in the 
rented Toyota and the rain was hammering down still on the roof of the 
car.
     He yawned and stretched.  Too much Scotch, he thought, and looked 
at the clock on the dashboard.  The time was 22.05.  He'd better get
moving.  He turned on his headlights and looked at the highway road, 
dancing with rain.  He should have stayed over at Jacksonville.  He 
reckoned he was within ten miles of his fishing-lodge.  A mile down the 
highway there was a turn-off that led to his destination, but the road 
could be bad.  He opened the glove compartment, took out the bottle of 
Ballantine and took a long drink.  Then replacing the bottle, he lit a 
cigarette and stared through the streaming windshield at the pelting 
rain.
     . Maybe he should have his head examined.  To get to his 
fishing-lodge could be some performance, but the Scotch bolstered his 
determination.
     He felt hungry.  He hadn't been to the fishing-lodge for three 
years, but he had arranged with Mary Ross, the Sheriff's wife, tolook 
in from time to time and keep an the freezer.
     eyeheonknew there was plenty of food in the freezer, and he knew 
Mary Ross had kept the lodge clean.  He suddenly looked forward to 
seeing her again, and to having a beer with Sheriff Ross.  They were 
both his kind of people and, in spite of his fame, they were real 
friendly.
     He thought of Sheila.  Okay, so she was having it off with men 
younger than himself.  Silas S. Hart didn't make reckless statements.  
So what?  Maybe when she got older she would settle down.  He admitted 
to himself that it couldn't be great fun for her to be married to a man 
who worked long hours.  Maybe, after this break, they could come 
together.  Maybe .  . .
     He switched on the ignition and started the car's engine.  
Usually, the highway was crammed with trucks and cars, but it was now 
deserted.
     Another ten miles to go.  Take it slow, he said to himself.  
You're full of Scotch.  Just take it slow.
     He knew there would be a juicy steak waiting for him.  He had an 
infra-red grill.  In less than an hour, he would be sitting at the 
table, eating.
     Ten miles to go!
     He drove carefully along the highway.  The windshieldwipers 
scarcely coped with the hammering rain, and he had to lean forward to 
peer into the wet darkness.
     The turn-off couldn't now be far.  He mustn't miss it.  He slowed 
down to twenty-five miles an hour, then he saw a bright light flashing 
ahead of him.  He slowed to a crawl.  All he could see was the red 
light flashing and the wetness.
      Some accident?
     He stopped the car as the flashing red light moved towards him.  
Then the light of his headlights showed him a man wearing a rain-soaked 
Stetson hat and the yellow slicker of a Highway Patrol officer.
     jesusl he thought, if this guy smells my breath, I could be done 
for a drunkdriving rap.
     He watched the man until he stepped out of the beams of the 
headlights.  He pressed the button so the electrically driven driver's 
window sank.  Rain pelted in the car and against his face.  He waited, 
feeling the rain refreshing.
     The man came alongside the car and flashed the red lamp at Perry.  
The beam moved to the passenger's seat, then to the back seats as if 
the man was checking that Perry was the only occupant in the car.
     'What's the trouble7'Pe@ asked, seeing only the middle part of the 
man's body as the man stood close to the car.
     'My car's run off the road.' The man bent slightly, but Perry 
could now only see the outline of the Stetson hat.  'I've got to get to 
a telephone.  Where are you heading?' 'Rockville.  I've a fishing-lodge 
two miles out of the village,' Perry said.  'You can use my phone.' 
'Yeah.' The man ran around the car.  His wet slicker showed for a brief 
moment in the headlights.  He opened the passenger's door and slid in 
beside Perry.
     'Hell of a night,' Perry said as he shifted into gear.
     'Yeah,' the man said.  He had a hard clipped voice.
     'Let's go.' and talked to Carl jenner Hollis sat in Sheriff Ross's 
car over the radio .  He told jenner that Deputy Sheriff Mason had just 
died.  t, jenner didn't seem able to grasp what

     For a momen im, then he said, 'You mean this has-Hollis was 
telling h

     tard killed young Mason?' terrible blow on the head.
     'Yes, sir.  He's dead.  He had a I've found the weapon: an axe.  
All the others were killed in the same way.  Their skulls were crushed 
like eggshells.  Mason only survived for a while because of his hat.  
This man must be as strong as an ox.  'Now six killings in one 'Good 
Godl'jenner exploded.
     night[ No one will be safe as long as this animal is free!  Don't 
touch anything, Hollis.  The homicide squad are trying to get to you.  
I've got cars covering Jacksonville.  When Lewis and Johnson reach you, 
send them back to the highway.
     He could be heading for Miami.  Tell them to head that way.  The 
State police are trying to set up roadblocks, but in this rain it's a 
job.' 'Okay, sir,' Hollis said.  'I'll keep in touch,' and he

     switched off the radio.  ts of an

     A minute or so later, he saw headligh approaching car.  The car 
pulled up beside him, and Lewis, the driver, leaned out of the window.
     Shouting above the sound of the rain, Hollis gave him the picture.
     'Orders are for you to belt back to the highway and head towards 
Miami fast.
     You just might overtake him.  He's wearing a Stetson hat and a 
yellow slicker he took from

     lk,

      Mason,'Hollis bawled.  'He'll be in Mason's Ford.  Number SZY 
3002.  Watch itl He has Mason's gunl' 'We hardly made it up this 
goddamn road,' Lewis moaned.  'It's like a quagmire.
     Okay, I'll do my best.' 'It'll have to be better than that!, 
Hollis snapped.  'This punk's got to be caughtf' After watching Lewis 
reverse his car, sliding in the mud, he ran back, through the rain to 
the shelter of the bungalow's lobby.

     Sheriff Ross, looking ten years older, met Hollis as he came into 
the lobby.

     'There's nothing for me to do here,' he said.  'I guess I'll get 
back to my office.'

     Hollis felt sorry for him.  The Sheriff looked a broken man.

     'I need your radio, Sheriff,' he said.  'Please stay around until 
the ambulance comes, then drive down with them.  Okay?' 'I wasn't 
thinking.' Ross walked heavily to an upright chair in the lobby and sat 
down.  'That boy was like a son to me.  I can't believe he's dead.'

     Hollis regarded him for a brief moment, then walked into the 
living-room.

     Davis was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, keeping 
his eyes from the three bodies.
     'We don't touch a thing, Jerry,' Hollis said.  'The Homicide boys 
should be on their way.  This killer could have left fingerprints, and 
he could have a record.' 'He's a real smart-ass, ' Davis said.  'The 
big deal is to catch him.  I'd hate to be the guy who corners him.  
He's got Mason's gun.  Let's get out of here.  This carnage turns my 
stomach.' The two men joined the Sheriff in the lobby.
     'You've got to get him,' Ross said, not looking up.  The Loss 
family and Tom were my true friends.  What's happening?  What's Jenner 
doing7' 'There's a full State alert, Sheriff,'Hollis said.  'The State 
police are in on it.  Tomorrow the National Guard will join in.  Every 
motorist, if he's listening to his radio, is warned, but there can't be 
many motorists out on a night like this.
     There's not much else we can do tonight.' 'Okay, but this is for 
sure,' Ross looked up.  There was a grim, determined expression on his 
white face -'If you boys don't find him, I will, if it's the last thing 
I do.' 'Sure, Sheriff Hollis said, feeling for the old man.  He 
thought this was kid's talk.  By now the killer could be miles away, 
probably heading for Miami, far away from Ross's territory.  'Don't 
worry.  Sooner or later, we'll find him.' 'I'll have to tell Tom's 
mother,' Ross muttered, and buried his face in his hands.
     The rain continued to pelt down.
     Perry Weston started the engine of the Toyota.
     'Around a mile ahead, there's a turn-off to the left that leads to 
my place,'he said.  'God knows what the road'Il be like.  It's pretty 
rough even in dry weather.' The man, sitting by his side, wearing a 
Stetson hat and a soaking wet slicker, said nothing.
     'Would it be an idea for you to call for help on your radio?' 
Perry asked.  'All cop cars have radios, haven't they?' 'The radio's 
bust,' the man said.
     'If it would be more helpful, I could take the branch road and you 
could telephone from the Sheriff's office.' 'Your phone is good as 
any.' The hard, metallic voice jarred on Perry.
     'Well, okay.'Perry slowed the car.  'We're coming to the turn-off.  
It could be tricky.' The man at his side said nothing.
     One of those strong, silent, brainless types, Perry thought and 
shrugged.
     He turned off the highway and onto a road that led, five miles 
ahead, to his fishing-lodge.  The road was half tarmac half sand.
     Feeling he should make the offer, and now aware that the lodge 
would be dismal, he said, 'If you want to, you can stay the night.  My 
place is well-organised, but maybe you want to get back to your car.'

     L

      There was a long pause.
     'I don't give a damn about the car,'the man said.  'I'm of duty.  
I'll have to tell them where the car is.  Sure, I'd like to' spend the 
night.  I've had it up to here with this rain.' ,Me too.' Perry leaned 
forward to stare at the narrow road scarcely lit by his headlights.  
'Glad to have you.  Who are you7' 'Keep driving, buster.  Watch the 
road.  It looks bad.' Perry felt a sudden uneasiness.  Although he 
couldn't take his eyes off the road, he wanted to look at this man by 
his side.
     We shouldn't be long,'he said.  'What's your name?' Again there 
was a long pause.
     'Call me Jim.' 'Jim - what?' Again a pause.
     'Brown.' 'Okay, Jim Brown.  I'm Perry Weston.' 'Watch your 
driving,' the man who called himself J:len Brown snapped.
     'Yeah.  God!  This rain!' Jim Brown leaned forward, staring into 
the small pools of lights from the car's headlights.  Suddenly he 
shouted, 'To your right!' It was too late.  A split second later, Perry 
saw a vast pool of rainwater and mud.  The front wheels of the Toyota 
just managed to cross the pool, but the rear wheels sank.  The car's 
engine stalled.
     'Hell!' Perry exclaimed.  'We're stuck!' ,I told you to drive to 
the right,' the man beside him snapped.
     'How the hell can anyone see anything in this rain!' Perry snapped 
back.
     'We're stuck for good!' 'I think I can shift her.  Let's take a 
look.' The man slid out of the car and into the pelting rain.  Cursing, 
Perry opened the driver's door and flinched as the rain beat down on 
him.  He was wearing a light trenchcoat that scarcely protected him as 
he floundered in the mud and the water.
     Brown was already standing up to his ankles in the pool.
     He turned on his flashlight, grunted, then looked towards where 
Perry was standing.
     'I can get her out,' he said.
     'How do I help?' Perry asked, feeling helpless.
     'I'll handle it.  Get in the car, start the engine and, when I 
yell, move into gear and creep forward.  Understand?' Perry stared with 
amazement as the man turned his back to the car and caught hold of the 
rear bumper in his gloved hands.
     'You'll never shift her,' he exclaimed.  'Let me help.' 'Get in 
the car and do what I've told youl' the man barked.  'I'll shift the 
sonofabitchl' Crazy!  Perry thought.  To try and lift the Toyota, 
loaded with luggage, out of this quagmire 'Suppose we both.  . .'he 
began.
     'Will you goddamn do what I tell youl'The voice was a hard bark 
that startled Perry.
     'Well, okay.'He was glad to climb into the shelter of the car.  He 
started the engine.
     'Now!' the man yelled.
     Perry shifted into gear and gently pressed the accelerator.  He 
felt the back of the car lift, the wheels spun, then gripped tarmac and 
rolled forward.
     Perry could scarcely believe it.  The car was again on firm 
groundl He slightly accelerated and the car moved forward, then he trod 
on the brake.
     He had imagined he would have had to walk to his fishing-lodge, 
leaving his car bogged down, and would have to telephone for someone to 
pull the car out of the quagmire.  This man had actually lifted the 
rear end of the car and had shoved it forward on its front wheels, 
doing the work of a breakdown truck!
     Incrediblel He must be as strong as an ox, Perry thought, unaware 
he was using the same phrase as Hollis had used when talking to jenner 
on the radio about the savage murders.
     Brown appeared, his head bent against the rain at Perry's window.
     'We're clear,' he said.  'Shift over.  I'll do the driving.'

      'I know the road.  You don't,' Perry said.  'I'd better 
drive.'

     'Shift overl' The man jerked open the door and shoved himself in 
as Perry was forced to move into the passenger's seat.
     As the man set the car moving, Perry realised he was thankful he 
didn't have to drive.  He felt, if anyone could get them down to the 
lodge, this man could.
     He reached into the glove compartment and produced the bottle of 
Scotch.
     'Have a drink, Jim.' 'I don't drink.' Perry unscrewed the cap on 
the bottle and took a long swig.
     'Well, have a cigarette.' 11 don't smoke.' Perry blew out his 
cheeks and shrugged.  He replaced the bottle in the glove compartment, 
then sat back, staring into the darkness and the pelting rain.
     'We have around three miles to go,'he said.  'Man!  Will I be glad 
to get home!' Brown kept silent.  He drove with skill and confidence, 
watching the road, following the twists and bends.
     Perry was now able to look at him, but the light from the 
dashboard revealed little.  He saw brown, big hands on the 
steering-wheel; the outline of the Stetson hat, but nothing of the 
man's face.
     Curious to know more about this man, he asked, 'Have you been long 
with the highway patrol?' A long pause, then Brown said, 'Long enough.' 
'That's a good answer.  I'm always saying that about my job.  I write 
film scripts.' Perry eased himself against the back of the seat.  'You 
married?' 'No.' 'To have shifted this car the way you did, You must be 
a weight-lifter in your spare time.' Brown said nothing.
     The condition of the road was improving and Brown increased speed.
     'Do you go to the movies7 You might have seen one of my 
films,'Perry said.
     'Ever seen The Gun Duel7 That was one of mine.' 'I don't go to the 
movies.' Man!  Perry thought.  This guy is a real square.  He doesn't 
drink, smoke nor go to the movies.  What the hell doe he do?  He 
asked the question, 'So what do you do in your spare time except police 
work7' 'Stop flapping with your mouth!' There was a snarl in Brown's 
voice.  'I'm driving!' 'Okay ... sorry,' Perry said.  He lit a 
cigarette and resisted taking another drink.
     They drove for the next twenty minutes in silence, then Perry 
said, 'Take the turn to the right, and we're there.' When they finally 
reached the fishing-lodge and Brown drove into the garage, Perry heaved 
a sigh of relief.  He knew he couldn't have made it, but, somehow, this 
man had coaxed the car through the mud with an expertise that baffled 
Perry.  He was sure, if he had been driving, he would have been bogged 
down a number of times, but they were under shelter at last.
     'That was great driving, Jim!' he said as they both got out of the 
car.  'You certainly did a fine job.' Brown moved to the entrance of 
the garage and peered out into the darkness and the pelting rain.  
Perry groped and found the light-switch and turned on the light.
     'Let's dump our wet things here.  No point in messing up my 
place,' he said, and stripped off his soaking trenchcoat.  He dragged 
off his boots.
     The man came away from the entrance of the garage and pulled off 
his mudencrusted boots.  Then the Stetson hat came off, then the yellow 
slicker.
     In the light reflecting down on him, Perry could now see him 
clearly.
     What he saw gave him a jolt of uneasiness.  The man was about his 
own height, but his shoulders were broader.  At first glance he looked 
like a primitive rock carving-.  long arms, a chunky body, long legs 
and the power and muscular build was awe-inspiring.
      Then the face: ice-cold blue eyes, a short, blunt nose, high 
cheek-bones and thick lips as if fashioned in red putty.  The hair was 
the colour of straw and cut in a fringe across a low forehead, dirty 
and shoulder-length.
     Perry saw around this man's thick waist was a revolver belt, and 
in the holster a gun butt showed.
     A real character, Perry thought.  Straight from the apes.
     'Let's get some comfort,'he said, wondering ;vhv a highway patrol 
officer should be wearing a dirty white sweatshirt and black jeans.  He 
shrugged this thought off as he groped for his keys and unlocked the 
door leading straight into his livin--room.  'Come on in, Jim.' He 
turned on the lights and led the way into the hi- room.  'Maybe you'll 
want to get out of those clothes.  I can fix you up.  Man!  Is ill good 
to get out of that goddamn rain!' Brown was staring around the big, 
comfortably furnished room.  For some seconds the luxury of what he was 
seeing seemed to stun him.
     Finally, he muttered, 'You live pretty well.' 'It's okay.  How 
about a bath?  I'm taking one, then I'll organise a meal.  I'll find 
something for you to wear.  I'll show you your room.'As he moved 
towards the stairs, he paused.  'I was forgetting.  You want to 
telephone.  The phone's over there.' 'It'll wait,' Brown said.  'I want 
to get out of these wet things.' Shrugging, Perry led the way up the 
stairs.
     'Your room's the second on the left,' he said.  'I'll find you 
something to wear.' He entered the major bedroom and turned on the 
ligh@s.  He looked at the big double bed which he had hoped 'to have 
shared with Sheila, but in spite of his efforts to persuade her she had 
refused to come to the fishing-lodge.  He paused, for a long r@loment, 
thinking of her.  What was she doing right now?  He glanced at his 
watch.  The time was well after midnight.  Then grimacing, he went to 
his big closet, found a sweat-shirt, underpants and a pair of jeans.  
These he carried down the short corridor and entered the second 
bedroom.

     Brown was standing by the bed, staring around the

     room.
     'Here you are.  I think you can squeeze into them,'Perry said, 
tossing the clothes on the bed.The for a bath.  See you in half an 
hour.' 'This is pretty fancy,' Brown said, still staring around the 
room.
     'Glad you like it.  The bathroom's right there,' Perry said, 
longing to get out of his damp clothes and into a hot bath.  He left 
the room and entered his bedroom.  t the As he drew water in the bath, 
he wondered abou weather conditions.  Was this rain going to cease?  
Stripping, he took his small transistor radio with him into the 
bathroom and put it on a shelf by the bath.  He turned it on, then 
sank, with a sigh of pleasure, into the hot water.
     He was in time to catch the weather forecast.  Rain was expected 
to persist for the next twenty-four hours, but would gradually die out, 
giving way to a spell of hot, humid weather.
     Perry shrugged.
     He knew he had plenty of food in the freezer.  In a couple of 
days, with luck, he could start fishing and thinking.  He grimaced, 
wondering if some idea would come to him.  It was odd how ideas for a 
plot could develop in a hot bath.  He thought of Silas S. Hart and what 
he wanted: sex, blood and action.  There was time.  After all, he had 
only just arrived.  He was hungry.  As he got out of the bath and 
reached for a towel, the impersonal voice of the radio announcer said: 
'We are interrupting this programme for an urgent police message.  All 
motorists travelling between Jacksonville and Miami are warned.  . .' 
Perry snapped off the transistor.  He was now no longer a motorist.  He 
was home, dry and hungry.  Let the other e rain, listen to police 
warn-poor sods floundering in th an, now called ings.  So he didn't 
hear the warning that a m the Axe Killer, was at large and disguised as 
a highway patrol officer.
     All Perry could think of right now-was a thick, juicy steak.  
Hastily drying himself, he scrambled into a sweat- 5
     shirt, jeans and loafers and ran down the stairs to the 
living-room.
     He found Brown moving around the room aimlessly.  Perry paused in 
the doorway.  Brown had taken a bat@..  His straw-coloured hair was 
clean and lay flat against his skull.  He had squeezed himself into 
Perry's clothes.  The short-sleeved sweat-shirt was too small and 
revealed this man's bulging muscles.  Perry saw on this man's left, 
thick forearm the tattoo of a striking cobra snake.  Around his solid 
waist was the cartridge belt and gun.
     Man!  Perry thought.  This guy is certainly a character!
     'Hungryl' he asked, moving into the room.  'I'm starving.  How 
about a steak?' 'Not for me,'Brown said.  'I guess I'll take a kip, but 
you go ahead, buster.' Perry suddenly realised he was beginning to 
dislike this man.  He now regretted offering him a bed, but what else 
could he have done7 Maybe he should have driven him to the Sheriff's 
office and have got rid of him.
     'Cut out calling me buster,' he said sharply.  'I told you my 
name's Perry Weston ... okay7' Brown stared at him for a long moment.  
His ice-blue eyes were intimidating.
     Then he shrugged.
     'Sure.  I'll catch up on sleep.' 'You wanted to use the 
telephone,' Perry said, thinking that there might be a chance for a 
highway patrol car to come and pick this man up and he would be rid of 
him.
     'Yeah.  Right.' Brown moved slowly towards him.  'The phone's out 
of order.  My fault.'He gave a short, barking laugh.  'I guess I don't 
know my own strength.' The sound of that mirthless laugh sent a cold 
prickle down Perry's spine.
     'I'm not with you,' he said.  'What's the matter with the phone?' 
'Bust,' Brown said, still moving forward.  Perry stepped aside.  'Don't 
worry about it.  Have your steak.  I'm taking a kip.' Perry watched 
Brown walk into the lobby and then climb the stairs.  He went quickly 
to the telephone and saw

     - p
     the cable was dangling.  It had been wrenched out of its

     socket.
     He heard a door upstairs slam shut.
     He stood thinking.  Something was very wrong.  This man just could 
not be a highway patrol officer: not with his long hair and the clothes 
he had been wearing.  Then who was he?  What the hell have I got myself 
into?  he asked himself.  Then he remembered there had been a police 
warning which he hadn't bothered to listen to.  Had that warning been 
anything to do with this man?
     Maybe there would be other warnings.
     He no longer felt hungry.  He had to admit he was now more than 
uneasy.
     Maybe the warning would be repeated on the television.  He crossed 
to the set, then paused, seeing the cable dangling.  That too had been 
wrenched out of the socket and the plug was missing.  Shocked, he 
remained motionless, aware his heart was thumping, then he remembered 
the transistor he had left in his bathroom.
     Moving silently, he climbed the stairs, entered his beditching on 
the room and moved into the bathroom, sw light.  One quick glance told 
him the transistor was no longer there.
     Jesus!  he thought, this is becoming really something!  Then he 
remembered the radio in the Toyota.  Again moving silently, he crept 
down the stairs.  Reaching the door that let into the garage, he turned 
the handle to find

     the door locked and the key missing.  of a

     So he was cut off, isolated, alone with this ape mani No outside 
help!
     Controlling a rising panic, he walked slowly back into the 
living-room - .  He poured himself a stiff Scotch and drank it neat.  
Then he refilled his glass and sat down in one of the big lounging 
chairs.
     Some situation, he thought.  He was now convinced this man, up in 
the spare bedroom, was dangerous, possibly crazy.  He had a gun.  Apart 
from the gun, he was horrifyingly strong.  glass carefully Perry 
emptied his glass, then placed the on the occasional table, so 
carefully the glass fell to the floor.
     Perry closed his eyes.  So, okay, he was smashed.  He hadn't eaten 
for ten hours.  He had been drinking steadily since he had got on the 
plane.  So, okay, he was smashed.
     He stretched out his long legs and made himself comfortable.
     Some situation!  Could this turn into the script that Silas S. 
Hart was demanding.  Blood, sex and action?
     Who cares?  he muttered.  Who cares about a guy with a gun?  Who 
the hell cares about anything?
     Lulled by the sound of the rain and the moaning of the wind in the 
trees, Perry Weston passed out.
     Sheriff Ross sat at his desk listening to Carl jenner on the 
telephone.  The time was 03-00, and Ross was feeling bone-wear-y and 
utterly depressed.  He had ridden back in the ambulance which contained 
four brutally murdered bodies.  He had sat beside Dr O'Leary, 
Jacksonville's medical examiner: a short, thickset man in his late 
fifties.
     'Never seen anything like this,' O'Leary muttered.
     Ross said nothing.  He was thinking of Tom Mason; his mother would 
have to be told, and his friends who had been friends of his for the 
past fifteen years.
     The ambulance driver had dropped Ross outside his office.  With a 
brief word of thanks and a nod to O'Lea Ross entered his office.  As he 
stripped off his soaking wet slicker and hat, he told his wife what had 
happened.
     'It's a terrible thing,'he said, walking to his desk and sitting 
down.  'I'll have to tell Tom's mother.' 'Tomorrow will do.  Let the 
poor soul have her night'-, rest,' Mary said.
     'Now don't worry about it.  I'll tell her.  1 have coffee for you. 
 Why don't you get some sleep7' 'I want to talk to Jenner,'Ross said, 
reaching for the telephone.  'I've got to know what's going on.  The 
State police have taken over, but that doesn't mean I can go to bed!' 
'Jeff!  This dreadful thing has now nothing to do with you,'Mary said 
gently.  'It's all in good hands.  Now, come to bed.' Ross was already 
talking to jenner.
     'Yeah, but nothing helpful,' Jenner told him.  'Mason's car was 
found tipped into a ditch around twenty-five miles from the farm on the 
highway.  Jacklin, who is now in charge of the investigation, thinks 
the killer must have stopped a passing motorist and got a lift, posing 
as a highway patrol officer.  Radio warnings are out.  Any motorist 
giving a patrol officer a lift is asked to contact headquarters.  So 
far, nothing.  Jacklin thinks he could be by now in Miami.  The 
Homicide squad turned up nothing.  The killer didn't leave 
fingerprints: must have worn gloves.  The murder weapon is clean.  We 
have a description of him, bu&Lit's vague.  I haven't had time to tell 
you the details, but here's what happened.  A motorcycle patrol officer 
spotted a hold-up at a garage.  He sent a radio that he was making an 
arrest.  A patrol car, picking up the message, was in time to find the 
hold-up man trying to start the police motorcycle.  The officer who 
radioed was dead, and the gas attendant so badly wounded he also died.  
The two patrol officers tackled the killer.  Sergeant Hurst was badly 
wounded, but Trooper Brownlow clubbed the man unconscious.
     Brownlow is new to this racket.  He searched the unconscious man 
and found a driver's licence made out in the name of Chet Logan.  He 
threw the man into the back of the car, then attended to Hurst, who was 
bleeding badly.  I guess Brownlow lost his head.  All he could think of 
was to get Hurst to hospital.  He forgot to put handcuffs on the 
unconscious killer.  Can you imagine?  He drove fast to Abbeville.  The 
road conditions were bad.  He did have the sense to report to me on the 
radio as he was driving.  From what Brownlow told me we have a vague 
description of the man.  You already have that.  The big thing is this 
man has a cobra snake tattooed on his left arm.  I guess Brownlow, 
while talking to me, must have taken his eyes off the road.  I heard 
the crash over the radio.
     He and Hurst were dead by the time we found them, and Logan had 
vanished.
     That's it, Jeff.  Captain Jacklin has now taken charge.  This is a 
State police job.  There's nothing either you or me can do.  This 
killer could be miles away by now and off our neck of the woods.' ,The 
killing took place on my territory,'Ross snapped.  'How does Jacklin 
know this man is heading for Miami?  He could have doubled back.  Along 
the river there are a number of fishing-lodges.  Most of them are shut. 
 He could be hiding in one of those.  He could be hiding any place on 
my ground.  As soon as this goddamn rain lets up, I,m going to check.  
If I find him, if it's the last thing I do, I'll make him pay for 
killing Tom and my friends' 'I can't stop you,' Jenner said, 
restraining his impatience.  'This man must be running to Miami where 
he can get lost.  But okay, suppose he has doubled back?
     You start checking out likely hiding-places, and you'll land up 
with a bullet in your head.  This man is vicious and armed, Tomorrow 
there'll be a massive search within twenty miles of where Mason's car 
was found.  Jacklin has called out the National Guard.  You keep out of 
it, Jeff.' 'The National Guard don't know the ground as I do,' Ross 
said.
     11,11 tell Jacklin to consult you.  Now, for God's sake, don't 
start acting like a hero, Jeff.  You'll need another deputy.  Sergeant 
Hank Hollis is due promotion.  He's a good man.  Okay, with you?' 
,Sure.  I know Hank.  He's a good man.' 'Right.  He'll report to you 
tomorrow morning.  Now go to bed.  If this rain continues, and the 
forecasters say it will, tomorrow is going to be a very tough day.' 'In 
the meantime, this killer is loose.' 'But not for long, Jeff - 
Good-night,'and Jenner hung up.
     Having watched Julian Lucan drive away, Ted Fleichman returned to 
his car.  He took off the cassette that recorded from the bug in the 
Weston house and dropped it into his pocket.  He lit a cigarette and 
stared into space, his mind active.
     He knew Perry Weston was a rich man.  Although Fleichman's salary, 
working as a private investigator, was good, he was in the hole for ten 
thousand dollars.  His wife was never out of a doctor's hands.  She was 
never out of a -F dentist's hands.  Well, okay, some women were like 
that.  He loved his wife, who was five years older than himself, but 
the bills that kept coming in weighed on him.  The last check he had on 
what he now owed came to $9,800, and he had had firm letters asking for 
payment.
     He would have to find the money.  He rubbed his jaw while he 
thought of Perry Weston.  Ten thousand dollars would be peanuts to a 
man in his earning bracket.
     This would have to be handled carefully, he told himself, but he 
could swing a deal.  Weston was out of town.  Maybe the wife could 
produce ten thousand dollars.
     It was worth a careful try.
     Sheila Weston had got over her crying jag.  An experience!  she 
told herself.  Never again!  No more strangers!  She was young enough 
to be resilient.  Today was Sunday, and she was alone.  She decided she 
would go to the tennis club and have lunch.  Julian Lucan was already 
fading into her past.  A marvellous sexy lover!  She suddenly smiled.  
She certainly had handled him beautifully.  He had given her the sex 
thrill of her life, and it had cost her nothing!  But never again I She 
would take a shower, dress for tennis and spend the rest of the day at 
the club.
     As she walked into the lobby, heading for the stairs, the front 
door-bell rang.
     Who could this be?  she wondered, frowning, aware she was only 
wearing a wrap over her nakedness, then with an impatient shrug she 
went to the door and opened it.
     She was confronted by a thickset man, wearing a dark light-weight 
suit, white shirt and a white linen cap with a long peak.
     'Morning, Mrs Weston,'the man said with a wide smile.  'Sorry to 
disturb you.  I'm Ted Fleichman, Acme Investigations.' He produced a 
wallet and flashed a silver badge.  'Security, madam.' 'I am not 
interested,' She, 'la snapped.  'Thank you,' and began to shut the 
door.
     Fleichman, still smiling, shoved his foot forward so the door 
wouldn't close.
     'You and me, Mrs Weston, need to talk.  It's to do with Julian 
Lucan, the man who spent the night with you.' The shock of hearing this 
was so great Sheila felt her heart skip a beat and felt blood drain out 
of her face.  She took two unsteady steps backwards, allowing Fleichman 
to move into the lobby.  He closed the front door.
     'Go awayl' Sheila said, her voice a whisper.  'You've no I right 
to come in here!
     Go awayl' Fleichman's smile broadened.
     'Sure, no problem, Mrs Weston.  I'll go away if that's what you 
want, but I could help you.  I want to help you.  It's part of my job - 
You see, I've been hired to watch you.  I have to turn in a report, but 
if you want me to go away that's just what I'll have to do.' 'Watch me? 
 Who has hired you?  My husband?' Sheila was now recovering.  This 
tough-looking man seemed friendly.  Could Perry have done such a thing 
.  . . to have her watched?
     'No, madam,'Fleichman said.  'Nothing to do with Mr Weston.  
Sorry, I can't name my client.  Can't we sit down and talk about this?' 
'Nol Go away!' 'Okay, madam.  Anything you say.  I just wanted to help 
you, but if you want me to turn in my report that you spent the night 
with Lucky Lucan, you have only to say so.' 'No one will believe youl' 
Sheila cried desperately.  'You're just a spy I You have no proof I Now 
get out I' 'Proof I' Fleichman shook his head.  'If you mean there's no 
evidence, madam, I have to correct you.  I have a recording of what 
happened last night, and what happened this morning.  I have 
photographs of Lucan leaving here.  You probably haven't had time to 
look around to see if anything is missing.  Lucan always gets paid: 
either in cash or a present.' He took from his pocket the plastic bag 
containing the gold George IV snuff-box and dangled it so Sheila could 
see it.
     'I believe this is your property, madam.  I persuaded Lucan to 
give it to me.' Not believing what she was seeing, Sheila ran into the 
living-room and to the table where Perry's antique collection was 
displayed.  She saw at once the snuff-box was missing.
     Fleichman had moved into the living-room and stood watching her.
     'Give it to me!  It belongs to my husband!' Sheila !xclaimed.
     Fleichman looked sad.
     'I wish I could, madam, but it has Lucan's finger-prints on it.  
His prints establish the fact that he stole it.  The tape I have 
establishes the fact that he tried to extort five hundred dollars from 
you which you rightly refused to give him.  The combination of his 
prints, the tape and the photographs will put him in the stammer for at 
least five years.  It is my duty to hand the evidence to the NYC 
police.  They have been waiting to get their hands on him, but, up to 
now, he's been too smart.' Sheila felt her knees buckling.  She sat 
down, staring at Fleichman, who also sat down, opposite her.
     'You see what I mean, madam.  It's a problem,' he said.
     Sheila shuddered.
     Awful thoughts flashed through her mind.  A police enquiry!  She 
would be called as a witness.  Her friendsl The sniggers and the 
whispers!  Her social life, which she loved, ruinedt God!  What a 
lunatic fool she had beenl 'This is a shock to you, madam7' Fleichman 
said.  'Should I get you a drink?' He looked around, saw the liquor 
cabinet, got up and poured a generous shot of Cognac into a glass.  He 
took the drink to her.  'Come along, madam.  Drink it.' With a shaking 
hand, Sheila took the glass and swallowed the brandy in one quick gulp 
- She shuddered and let d to h-s chair Fleichman take the glass from 
her.  He returne and sat down.
     For several minutes, Sheila sat motionless.  The Cognac began to 
knit her together.  Her mind began to work'As I have said, 
madam,'Fleichman said, seeing she was recovering from the shock, his 
voice gentle, 'there is a problem ... for you and for me.' She looked 
up and stared at him.
      'For you?' 'Yes, madam.  I have as big a problem as you have.' 
'I don't understand.  What is your problem?' 'Well, madam, unlike you, 
I have a financial problem.  I am being paid to keep tabs on you.  I've 
been keeping tabs on you for the past two months.  I know you have been 
having fun with certain men.  I know who they are.  I know Mr Weston 
has been busy and perhaps neglectful.  What is more natural for a 
young, attractive woman like you to have sex from time to time with 
other men?  It happens every day.  I know you have been with two of 
your men friends at various motels, but this time you fell for a 
professional, and you invited him to your home.  That' madam, was a 
fatal mistake.' Sheila stiffened.
     'Who is employing you?' 'I can't give you t'ne name of my client, 
madam.  That would be a breach of confidence.  When I investigate a 
woman who is playing around, it's my job to investigate in depth.  I 
have learned you and Mr Weston have drifted apart.
     Divorce evidence wouldn't worry you, but for the police and the 
press to know that you have been foolish enoughtotakeonaprofessional.  
. .'Hepausedtostareat her as he saw her flinch.  'Well, I don't have to 
spell it out, do I?' Sheila's hands closed into fists.
     'What is your problem?' she asked.
     'I have a sick wife, madam,' Fleichman said, crossing one thick 
leg over the other.  'I won't bore you with the details.  I don't earn 
much and the medical bills are more than I can pay.  I am in debt, 
madam.  I need ten thousand dollars.  Now, madam, the NYC police want 
Lucan.  They know private investigators like me often watch Lucan.' 
Fleichman paused, then went on, lying smoothly, 'They are offering any 
investigator who can produce strong enough evidence to put Lucan behind 
bars ten thousand dollars.' The lie, to Sheila, was so obvious, she 
closed her eyes.  To be blackmailed twice in a morning was something 
she couldn't believe possible.
     'You see, madam,' Fleichman went on, 'I have to think of my wife, 
but I have also to think of you.  I realise your nice life will be 
spoilt if you are forced to give evidence against Lucan.  It is not as 
if you are one of many thousands of women who have fun on the side.  
You are the wife of a very famous scriptwriter.  The press will have a 
ball if Lucan comes up for trial.'He paused, smiling sadly.  'I suggest 
you are not without money.  i leave it to you.  I must have ten 
thousand dollars.  I know the police will willingly give it to me, but 
if you give it to me I will hand over the tape, the snuff-box and the 
photographs and you'll hear no more of this unfortunate affair.  I 
will, of @ourse, have to continue to watch you, but I assure you, in 
the future, if you step out of turn, I won't report it.  in fact, 
madam, you will have gained a friend.' He gave her a big, friendly 
smile.  'Do we have a deal, madam7' sat silent, looking down at her 
hands, gripped between her knees.
     Flei--hman waited.  He was sure she would give bin the money.  
Time meant nothing to him, but after minutes had ticked by he said, a 
sharper note in his voice, 'Do we have a deal, madam7' 'I don't seem to 
have any alternative, do I7'Sheila said in a hard cold voice.
     She didn't look up.  'I haven't such a sum, but my husband might 
have it in his safe upstairs.  I'll see.  Wait here.' Iked Still not 
looking at him, she got to her feet ard wa out of the room .  Moving 
like a shadow, Fleichman lef,Lhis chair and moved to the living-room 
door.  He watched Sheila climb the stairs and disappear into a room 
down a short corridor.  Silently, he ran up the stairs and peered into 
the room.
     Her back to him, Sheila was taking a modern painting off the wall. 
 He saw the painting had concealed a small wall safe, and he grinned.  
He hadn't thought it would be this easy, but then, after all, she was 
only a kid, and he had scared her witless.
     As Sheila began to turn the combination knob, the telephone bell 
rang.  She turned, then saw ileichman standing

     L-@

     in the doorway.  She stifled a scream, her hand flying to her 
mouth.
     'Don't answer it, madam,' Fleichman said, moving further into the 
room.  'Just open the safe.' She moved so swiftly, he had no time to 
stop her.  She snatched up the telephone receiver as he caught hold of 
her wrist, but she said loudly, 'Sheila here.  Who is it?' Fleichman 
released her wrist.
     'Watch what you sayl'he said, in a low snarling, voice.
     'Sheila, honey, it's Mavis.' 'Oh ... Mavis,' Sheila made an effort 
to steady her voice.
     'I couldn't wait.  Has that gorgeous hunk of man left or; s he 
still with you?' 'He's left.' 'Was he good?' 'So-so.' 'Honey, you sound 
flat.  He looked marvellous!' 'Yes.' 'I must tell you.  Sam turned up 
last night without wari-,ing.  What a lucky escape I had!  I was about 
to go out with Lew!  Can you imagine7 I'm almost a ruin.
     Right now, Sam's snoring his head off.  The way he went on, Ye!  
would have thought he hadn't screwed a woman for th@,i7y years.' 
'Well, that's Sam.' 'You can say that again.  Heard from Perry?' 'No.  
He's on location somewhere in California.' 'California7 He can't be, 
honey.  He's in Florida.  San saw him at the Jacksonville airport.' 'I 
thought he was in California,' Sheila said, aware of Fleichman.
     'He's probably cheating on you, baby.  You coming to the club?  
Sam will sleep all afternoon.' 'Maybe.  I must go, Mavis.  My bath is 
running.  'Bye for now,' and she hung up.
     'If the phone rings again, madam,' Fleichman snapped, 'you don't 
answer it.
     Get that safe open!' He stood back and watched her walk to the 
safe.
     Ten thousand dollars!  he thought.  Mont Would that get him out of 
deep trouble I A guy like Perry Weston was certain to have a load of 
money in a wall safe.  Maybe he should have asked for more.  There 
would be further doctors'bills.  He had this kid where he wanted her.  
Maybe he had better take a look, seeing she had now opened the safe 
door.  As he moved forward, he stopped short.
     Sheila had spun around.  She was holding a viciouslooking .38 
revolver in her hand which she had snatched from the safe.
     In s ite of his toughness, Fleichman felt a sudden chill as p he 
stared first at the gun, then at Sheila's hard, desperate face.
     'Put the snuff-box and the tape on that table,' she said.  'I can 
shoot!  I'll smash your kneecap and you'll be crippled for lifel Do 
what I say!' Fleichman forced an uneasy grin.
     'That gun ain't loaded,' he said.  'You don't bluff me,' and he 
edged forward.
     There was a bang of gunfire.  He felt something like a hornet 
whizz past his face.  He started back.  He had never been faced with an 
experience like this, and his sagging confidence oozed out of him.
     'Okay ... okay.' He took the tape and the plastic bag from his 
pocket and put them on the bedside table.
     'Now, get out, you filthy blackmailer!' Sheila screamed at him.  
'Get out!' She followed him down the stairs, watched him open the front 
door and walk unsteadily down the drive.  She slammed the door shut and 
shot the bolt.
     Then she collapsed in a faint on the floor.

     4

     On this Sunday morning at 10.15, a police car pulled up outside 
Sheriff Ross's office.
     Captain Fred Jacklin heaved his bulk out of the car, slammed the 
door and ran up the wooden steps to the porch out of the rain that 
cascaded down.  If anything, he thought, taking off his soaked slicker, 
the rain was heavier than the previous day.
     Jacklin was a massively built man with rugged features and the 
cold grey eyes of a cop.  Head of the Jacksonville's State police 
department, nudging forty-eight years of age, he was known as an 
efficient and ruthless police officer.
     He shook his slicker free of water, then walked into the office to 
find Sheriff Ross and Hank Hollis bending over a large-scale map spread 
out on Ross's desk.
     'Hi, Jeff,'Jacklin said, advancing.
     going to continue.' 'Looks as if this rain's The two men shook 
hands, and Jacklin nodded Hollis.
     to

     'That's the way it looks, Captain,'Ross said.  'What's the 
news7'

     'If you mean have we found this killer, the answer is n Jacklin 
said.  'He could be anywhere by now.  All we can 'd"o in this rain is 
to keep broadcasting.' He pulled up a straight-backed chair and 
straddled it.  'Roadblocks have been set up, but it took time and he 
could have slipped through.  No motorist has reported giving him a 
Iiit.  In fact, we are getting nothing from our radio warnings.  He 
could have stopped a motorist while wearing the patrol's uniform, 
killed him and taken off in the victim's car.  This I man will stop at 
nothing.  I've turned out the National Guard.  They are sitting in 
their trucks waiting for the rain to stop.  So right now, we are 
getting nowhere.' Ross went around his desk and sat down.  He looked 
pale and tired.
     'This is the map of my territory,' he said, tapping the map spread 
out on his desk.  'What you say makes sense, but there were very few 
motorists on the highway last night.  I have a hunch that when Logan 
slid off the road and into a ditch, he took to the forest on foot.  I 
think he could still be on my territory.' Jacklin nodded.
     'It's a possibility, but he must know that the roads are now 
sealed off, and once in the forest, he wouldn't have a chance to break 
out.  No, Jeff.  I still think he hijacked a car, killed the driver and 
is heading for Miami where he could get lost.' 'I know this territory 
like the back of my hand.' Ross tapped the map.
     'There are dozens of places where this man could hide, but the 
places I like most are the fishinglodges along the river.' He pointed 
to the map.  'They are less than ten miles from where he ditched Tom's 
car.  There are footpaths through the forest that lead to the river.  
Now these fishing-lodges are unoccupied.  They are only used from time 
to time by people from Miami from New York.  If this man could find 
one of these places, he'd have no trouble breaking in.  I know the 
owners leave food in their freezers.  He could remain in hiding in one 
of these lodges for two or three weeks while your m@ hunt for birr..  
These fishing-lodges must be checked.' jacklin grunted.  He wasn't 
convinced.
     'It's an idea.  What do you suggest?' 'I'm going to check them 
out,' Ross said.  'As soon as this rain lessens, Hank and I are going.' 
'Now, hold itl'Jacklin said sharply.  'You two could get your heads 
blown off.
     This man has already killed six people[ He's as dangerous as a 
cornered tiger, and he has Mason's gun.  You keep out of it, Jeff I' 
'This is my territory,' Ross said quietly.  'If he's hiding in  the 
forest or in one of the fishing-lodges, 1,11 find him.' Jacklin 
shrugged, then smiled.
     'You're a stubborn old bastard Jeff - Okay.  I'll send four of the 
National Guards to you.  i want You to take them with you.'He got to 
his feet.  'This rain will last another six or seven hours.  I've got 
to get back to jenrier.  I still think, by now, he's in Miami, but if 
he's still around here, you'll need support.' He shook hands and ran 
out to his car.
     Ross snorted.

     'The National Guard?  What good are they: goddamn kids with 
rifiesl'

     'lleah.  They could get in the way,'Hollis ,aid.  'We can do 
without them.' Ross regarded Hollis thoughtfully.  Although he grieved 
that Tom Mason was dead, looking at Hollis, he could see this tall, 
lean man with his steady greyblue eyes and his hard, firm mouth was 
infinitely superior to Mason.  This man had Years of experience as a 
highway patrol officer.

     He had also served in Vietnam.  Ross was thankful to have him as 
his deputy.

     Hollis walked to the window and looked out at the rain.  
Rockville's main street was deserted.  He shrugged and turned to see 
Ross staring down at the map on his desk.
     'Hank, I've got to get this man,'Ross said in a low voice.  'He 
killed my deputy and three of my friends.  I can't sit around here 
waiting for the rain to stop.'He looked up and stated at Hollis.  'Feel 
like getting wet?' Hollis grinned.

     'I was hoping you'd say that, Sheriff.' Ross nodded,

     'Take a look at this map.  We can drive to this point hez,e.'He 
pointed to the map.
     'Here, there is a footpath that leads down to the river.  It's a 
good two-mile walk.  There are five fishing-lodges along the river.  
They are around half a mile apart.  This is going to take time, Hank 
but if he's anywhere on MY ground he'll be in one of these lodges.  
What do you say7' 'I'm with you, Sheriff.' 'Okay.  We could be out all 
day.  Mary's with Tom's mother.  I'll leave her a note.' Ross went to 
the gun rack, unlocked it and took out two rifles.  He then went to his 
desk and found a box of ammunition.  'You load up, Hank I'll write a 
note to Mary,' and he sat down at his desk - The note written, he went 
into the kitchen and cut four thick ham sandwiches which he put in a 
plastic bag, then he returned to his office to find Hollis, guns under 
his arm, wearing his slicker and hat, waiting.
     ' I'll call Jeriner,' Ross said.  'I don't want him to try to 
contact me and get no answer.' Picking up the telephone receiver, he 
dialled.
     When jenner came on the line, Ross said, 'This is Jeff.  I'm 
closing the office, Carl.  I'm taking a look at the fishinglodges.  
Could take me all day.' 'You're crazy I' jenner snapped.  'You'll never 
get down to the river.  Anyway, I - - .' 'This line's terrible,' Ross 
said.  'I just wanted you to know,' and he hung up.
     At Ross's nod, Hollis ran out to the patrol car and slid under the 
steeringwheel.  Ross paused long enough to lock the office door, then 
he joined him.
     'Let's go,' he said.
     With the windshield-wipers scarcely coping with the pelting rain, 
Hollis drove down Rockville's main street and headed for the highway, 
Perry Weston came out of a sodden sleep like a man crawling out of 
quicksand.
     He looked around the big bedroom, only half focussing, then he 
shut his eyes and groaned.
     He became aware of the sound of rain slamming against the windows, 
and he groaned again.
     What a dope he had been to have come down here, he thought.  What 
a dope to have paid no attention to the Hertz girl who had warned him 
that the rain was going to be bad.
     For some minutes, he lay still before his mind began to function.  
He vaguely remembered staggering up the stairs and dropping onto his 
bed.  That seemed years ago.  He  found he was still wearing the 
sweat-shirt and jeans, but he had kicked off his shoes.
     Then into his mind floated an unpleasant vision of a Powerfully 
built man with a cobra snake tattooed on his arm.  Jim Brown!
     Abruptly, he swung hi legs off the bed and sat up.
     How long had he slept?  He looked at his strap watch.  The time 
was 11.20.
     Had the man gone?
     Slowly, he dragged himself to his feet and went to tile bedroom 
door.
     He opened it, and stood listening.  He heard movements downstairs. 
 He could smell coffee.  So Jim Brown was still herel He shut the door 
and moved into the bathroom.  P, e dd paused to look at himself in the 
mirror.  What a go amn wreckl he thought.  He should never have hit the 
bottle as he had done the previous night.
     Making an effort, he shaved, then stripping off, he stood under a 
coldwater shower.  By the time he had dried himself, he was feeling a 
lot better.
     C,oing to the closet, he put on a short-sleeved shirt and i pair 
of linen slacks.
     While he was shavirg, showering and dressing, he was thinking of 
Jim Brown.
     This man, he decided, was either a nut-case or a ftigitive.  
Whoever he was, he was dangerous.  With the telephone dead, the rain 
hammering down, locked out from his car, there was nothing he could do 
except play this one off the cuff.  He had no alternative.
     Bracing himself, he left the bedroom and walked down the stairs.  
He paused in the lobby.  The smell of coffee was now added to the sound 
of meat sizzling.
     He pushed open the kitchen door and then paused.
     Brown was standing over the infra-red grill.  His head jerked 
around and the two men stared at each other.
     Brown was wearing the clothes Perry had given him.  Around his 
waist was the gun-belt.  His thick lips parted in a grin.

     'How's about a steak, buster?'he said.  'You've got good

     food in the freezer.  Won't take five minutes.  Okay?' 'Fine,' 
Perry said.  'I can't remember when I ate last.' Brown turned back to 
the grill.
     'I've made a pot of coffee.  Suppose you go in there and sit, huh? 
 Give me five minutes.' Accepting the situation, Perry walked into the 
livingroom, He found the dining-table laid.  This man had found the 
cutlery, the salt, pepper and mustard.
     He reatised how hand he was.  He was tempted to go to the 
liquor-cabinet anJ pour himself a shot of Scotch, but resisted the 
temptation.  Instead, he walked to the big window and, pushing aside 
the curtain, looked out at the rain, the mud and the dripping trees.
     Play this off the cuff, he thought.  There's nothing I can do 
about it.  This man holds all the cards.
     1-ie moved restlessly around the room until Brown came in, 
carrying a tray.
     He put down two plates, loaded with perfectly cooked steaks, peas 
and fried potatoes.
     'Here we go,' he said.  'You have a fancy setup here.' They sat 
opposite each other and began to eat.  This man could cook, Perry 
thought.  The steaks were excellent.  Halfway through the silent meal, 
Brown paused and looked at Perry.
     'Buster, I'm sorry about this.  I'm really sorry.' Pliy it off the 
cuff, Perry told himself.  He cut off a piece of steak, smotliered it 
with mustard, then before conveying it to his mouth, he asked quietly, 
'What are you sorry about, jim7' 'I needed sleep,' Brown said.  'I 
haven't slept for the past two days.'He began to eat again.  'This 
steak is good, huh7' 'You're quite a chef, Jim,' Perry said, land will 
you cut out calling me Buster?  My name's Perry to you.  Okay7' 'I'm 
with you.  Sure.'Brown spoke with his mouth full of food.  He ate 
savagely, the way a wolf eats.  He paused to pour coffee and shoved a 
cup towards Perry.
     'I can fix the phone, and the TV.  I just wanted to be sure I 
could get some safe sleep.  I didn't want you to start telephoning or 
to listert to the cop talk.  I just had to have sleep.' Perry began to 
lose his appetite.  He began to push the food around on his plate.
      'Are you in cop trouble, Jim?' Brown wolfed down the last of the 
steak, then sat back.  ll;s thick lips moved into an ugly grin.
     'Yeah.'He sipped coffee while he stared at Perry with his ice-cold 
eyes.
     'That's for true.  Cop trouble!' He brought his clenched fist down 
on the table in a thump.
     'You can say that again.' Perry found he couldn't finish his 
steak.  He drank ce,'fee while lie looked anywhere but at'@rown.
     There was a long pause, while the rain continued to han-imer 
against the windows, then Perry said quietly, 'Want to tell me about 
it?' 'Why not?' Brown finished his coffee and poured more.  'The big 
deal is .f you want to hear about it.' Perry pushed back his chai,-, 
s'ood up and crossed to the occasional table for a cigarette.  He took 
time to light the cigarette, then returned to the table and sat down.
     'Why the big deil?' 'Yeah.' Brown leaned forward, his powerful 
hands ri,-3t on the table.  His icecold eyes stared at Perry.  'A good 
question.'With a flashing movement of his hand, Masori's .38 revolver 
appe -ared in his hand.  The gin pair@ted dir(@ctly at Perry.  'A good 
question.' Perry felt a cold wave of fear run througl-i h-."ri.  He 
st motionless.
     'You don't have to do that, Jim,'he said, aware his voice was 
hoarse.  'If I can help you, I will.' Brown studied him, grinned, and 
the gun went back into its @iolster.
     'No, Perry, you won't try to help me.  You are going t,) help me.  
Okay?' 'Can't you tell me what this is all about?' Perry so',ci, 
relaxing.
     'That's what I'm going to tell you.  You like the coffer,'," 'It's 
fine.' 'Yeah.  I make good coffee.  I cook well.  There's not i-I'll,ch 
else I can't do except make money.' The sour bitterness in Brown's 
voice bothered Perry.  'Now you, yo@ I write for the movies.  Look at 
what you've got.' Brown waved in all directions around the room .  
-'Very fancy.  You've got talent.  I've got nothing.' He scowled.  'A 
guy like you wouldn't know what that means, to have nothing.' Perry 
kept silent.  He sat still, his heart thumping.  He owing uneasiness 
that at any moment this man, had a gr sitting, staring at him, could 
turn violent.
     'Nothing,' Brown repeated.  'You wouldn't know, would you, what 
nothing means?' 'That's where you're wrong,' Perry said.  'I'd guess 
you are not more than twenty-four, I am fourteen years older than you.  
When I was your age, I thought I had nothing.  All I did was to sit 
around and read books.  My parents kept pressing me to find some job, 
but all I wanted to do was sit and read.  It wasn't until my parents 
were killed in a plane crash and I found there was no money that I was 
forced to get a job.  I had to or I'd have starved.  So I took up 
writing.  I sat in a one-roomer and wrote and wrote.
     ge years I I lived on hambur rs if I was lucky.  For two thought I 
was kidding myself.  I kept thinking I had nothing.  I didn't think 
anything of the book I was writing.  There was a time when I was on a 
garbagetruck to earn eating money.  I worked as a dishwasher in a 
greasy spoon, but I kept on writing.  I finished the book.  I still 
didn't think much of it, but a publisher did.  It hit the best-seller's 
list.  From then on, I wrote and wrote, and finally I got into the 
movie racket.'He paused to stub out his cigarette, then, looking 
directly at Brown, he went on, 'I do know what nothing means.' He was 
surprised to see interest 0 n the hard, u nattractive face and 
surprised to see this man was listening.
     'A garbage-truck, huh?' Brown said.  'That must have been rough.' 
'It was eating money,' Perry said.  'At your age, it's a mistake to 
think you have nothing.' 'You know what I've got?' Brown leaned 
forward.  'If they catch me, I've got thirty years in the stammer.' He 
clenched his powerful hands into fists.  'Thirty years of nothing!'  
Perry poured more coffee into his cup and pushed the pot towards Brown.
     'What's the problem, Jim?' he asked.  'Look, we're here.  We are 
stuck here as long as this rain lasts.  Do you want to talk about it?' 
Brown stared at him for a long moment, then got to his feet.
     'Maybe.' He took up the dishes.  'I'll fix these.  My old man was 
a cripple.  My ma left him.  I looked after him: did everything.  I 
like doing things.' He carried the dishes into the kitchen and Perry 
heard him begin to wash up.
     Perry finished his coffee, then carried the cup and saucer into 
the kitchen.
     Brown, at the sink, whistling tunelessly, ignored him.  Perry put 
the cup and saucer down, then returned to the living-room.  Fie sat 
down in one of the lounging chairs and listened to the rain.
     Some situationl he thought.  This had to be played very carefully. 
 It was like having a tiger in the house.  One false move and the tiger 
would strike.
     Perry was sure of this.  He must relax.  He must show no fear.  Be 
casual, he told himself.  Give this man no reason to turn vicious.
     He forced himself to relax, stretching out his long legs and 
resting his head against the padded cushion of the chair.  For a long 
ten minutes, he listened to the rain and the wind moaning in the trees, 
then Brown came in from the kitchen.
     t He watched Brown walk to the window, part the cut--tams and 
peer out.  He stood with his broad back toward Perry for some minutes, 
then he pulled the curtains shut and moved to a lounging-cliair near to 
the one in which Perry was sitting.
     'You sure have more than nothing now,' he said as he sat down.  
'That's a real fancy kitchen.  You should have seen the hole I cooked 
my old man's meals in.' 'When I was your age, Jim, I didn't have a 
kitchen.  I ate out of plastic sacks.' 'As long as this rain keeps up, 
they won't come looking for me,' Brown said, half to himself.  'Cops 
don't like getting wet.'He stared at Perry.  'You and me are going to 
keep company.' His thick lips moved into a sneering grin 'Like the 
idea, Perry7' 'I'd rather have you here than be on my own in this 
goddamn rain,' Perry said mildly.  'At least, we won't starve.  I was 
planning a fishing vacation.  When I fish, I like to be on my own, but 
when I can't fish, I like corn'He was making a desperate effort to keep 
this man pony.
     relaxed.  'You like fishing, Jim?' Brown looked at the wall clock, 
then got to his feet and went into the kitchen.  He returned with 
Perry's transistor.  He sat down.
     'Time for the news,' he said and switched on the transistor.
     The announcer was finishing the headlines.  This country at war 
with that country.  Vandals smashing shop windows.  A black riot.  
Soldiers in Ireland getting shot.  A bomb exploding in a Swiss bank.  A 
Senator facing corruption charges.
     Brown said, 'They're all crooks, Perry.  We live in crap.' 'I 
guess,' Perry said.  'No one's happy.' 'Yeah because most people like 
me have nothing.' The announcer went on, Before the weather forecast, 
we are again reading a police message.  Chet Logan, the man who 
b@utally murdered six people last night, is still at large.  It is 
believed, wearing a Stetson hat and a slicker of a murdered patrol 
officer, he stopped a motorist and is heading South.  Although thi,- 
warning has been b;oadcast throughout the night, no motorist, so far, 
has ;-iotified the police.
     It is feared that the motorist could @ia7)e been r,-zurdered and 
Logan is using the victim's car, You are asked to watch for this man.  
His description is as follows: age around twenty-four, powerfully 
built, blond.  He has a cobra snake tattooed on his left arm.  If you 
see a man resembling this description, telephone the 1, lorida State 
police immediately.  No attempt should be inside to approach him.  He 
is armed and very dangerous, Police road blocks have been set up 
between Jacksonville ai-,d Miami.  The National Guard are co-operating 
with the State police.  Every effort is being made to capture this 
man.  This warning will be broadcast every hour, Brown snapped off the 
transistor and shoved it aside.  He stared thoughtfully at the cobra 
snake tattooed on his arm, then he looked at Perry.
     There was a long moment of silence.  Perry felt cold, The words of 
the radio announcer were ringing in hi@, mind.  Who brutally murdered 
six people last night ... no attempt should be made to approach him ... 
11 e is armed and very dangerous.
     Perry felt his mouth turn dry and his hands clammy, but he made a 
tremendous effort to appear casual.

     'Chet Logan?'he said, wishing his voice didn't sound so husky.  
'That you, jim7'

     Brown's thick lips twisted into a mirthless grin.
     'Who else7' He again stared at the tattoo on his arm.  'You know 
something?
     Kids do stupid things ... like this tattoo.  This is just the kind 
of thing cops love.  Stupid!' He rubbed the tattoo.  'When I was 
fifteen, I joined up with a gang.
     We called ourselves the Cobra.  There we-P five of us.  We had 
nothing ... no money, no nothing.  We went out nights and mugged 
suckers.  That way I kept my old man in food, and paid the rent of our 
one room.  Each of us had this snake tattooed on our left arm.  Stupidi 
At the time, we thought it was terrific.
     Stupidl' He again rubbed the tattoo.  'Yeah, well, we were kids, 
and kids dig symbols.  Stupid!' He looked up and stared past Perry.  
'We were working over a rich mug when the cops arrived.  I was the only 
one who got away.' Again his mirthless grin appeared.  'I'm good at 
getting away.  The other four went into the stammer, but they didn't 
talk.  It was a good gang while it lasted, so I got clear.  When I 
returned home, I found my old man dead.  I knew the finks in our block 
knew about my tattoo and would squeal to the cops, so I left my old man 
to rot and took off.  I've been hoofing ever since .  . . eight goddamn 
years, mugging, knocking off gas stations, living somehow, but the cops 
didn't catch up with me until last night.
     I'm good at getting away, so I got away.  No cop is ever going to 
catch me.
     Maybe, if I'm unlucky, he could kill me, but he'll never stick me 
behind bars.' Perry had to know.
     'Did you kill six people last night, Jim?' 'Oh sure.' Brown 
shrugged.  'What are six goddamn people in this crappy world when 
people are always killinb@ each other?  This six were stupid.  They put 
pressure c)n me, and when anyone puts pressure on me I hit back.  
TIiat's natural, isn't it7' Perry felt in urgent need of a drink.  He 
got up, went to the liquor-cabinet and poured himself a stiff shot of 
Scotch.
     He heard Brown mutter something.
     'I didn't get that, Jim.  What did you say?' 13rown stared at him, 
his expression suddenly vicious.
     'I said you can count yourself goddamn lucky you're not the 
seventh.' Perry emptied his glass in one long gulp.
     'How come I'm lucky7'he asked as he refilled his glass.  11 
thought of knocking you off last night when you were drunk,' Brown 
said.  'Then I had a better idea.  I listened to the radio.  The 
National Guardi The copsl Sooner or later, they'll come here.  They're 
going to check everywhere.  So I got this better idea.' He paused, then 
went on, 'You're going to be my front.  When the cops come, you'll tell 
them you're alone here.  You'll cover for me.' He stabbed his short 
finger in Perry's direction.  'You give me away, and I promise you one 
thing.' Perry waited, aware his heart was thumping.  As Brown continued 
to glare at him, he asked, 'What do you promise me?' The unattractive, 
square-shaped face turned into a snarling mask.
     'We'll share a double funeral,'Brown said.  'That's what I 
promise.' 'The footpath is just ahead,' Ross said, peering through the 
windshield.  'Pull into this lay-by.'

      Hollis slowed, then steered the car into the lay-by and cut the 
engine.

     'From here, we walk,' Ross said.  He fiddled with the radio and 
got Jenner's headquarters, 'Carl, Ross,' he said.  'We are at P on the 
Miami highway.  We're using the footpath to get down to the river.' 
'Hold it!' Jenner said, his voice sharp.  'You wait.  Jacklin has sent 
four Guards and they'll be with you in half an hour.  I don't want You 
to go into the forest without support, Jeff.' 'I have all the support I 
need,'Ross said.  'I have funk I don't want four trigger-happy kids 
losing themseiie!  in this jungle.  Keep them off my back.
     Over and out, ',I .11 c he switched off.  'Okay, Hank, let's get 
wet.' The two men reached into the overhead rack for t rifles.  Ross 
put the plastic sack of sandwiches in','it'( pocket of his slicker, 
then both men got out into the r,@ij,.
     After locking the car, Hank followed Ross's hr@),@ti back along a 
narrow path that led into the forest.  C@Ti@ (, under the heavy foliage 
of the trees, they were shelt(,i-@@(-i!  from the pelting rain, but 
water dripped on them.
     WItf@r and mud flooded the path, making the going slow precarious.
     This walk reminded Hollis of his trips into Vietnamese jungles.  
Often it rained like this, but, as ll@@ had led his patrol, he hadn't 
bothered about the rain.  A; I he then bothered about was a concealed 
sniper.  He t,]'t' pretty confident that this killer wouldn't be 
lurking in shrubs.  All the same, he kept his rifle at the ready as 
!-.e plodded after Ross.
     Here was a man!  Hollis thought.  One of the real all toughies.  A 
man to be admired.
     This is my territory, he had said to the top shot of tli,@ Florida 
police, no one gives me orders.
     That's telling them, Hollis thought, and grinned.
     Ross paused and turned.
     'Another mile, Hank, then we reach the river.  The ri@,-!  
fishing-lodge is immediately at the end of the footpath I'll go 
forward, you cover me.  We don't stop to argue.
     We shoot first and apologise after.  Okay?' 'Look, Sheriff,' 
Hollis said quietly.  'I've had jungle training in the army.
     With respect, I go first and you cover me.  This is my scene.  We 
don't want to make a balls-up of this.  One slip and we're both dead.  
Okay7' Ross hesitated for only a moment, then he nodded.
     'Right.  Then let's get on with it.  Go straight ahead.  I'll do 
what you do.' Hollis moved around Ross and started down the path.  'The 
trees were thinning so both men had the rain beating down on them.
     A@ter half an hour of slow progress, sloshing in the .i(i and 
rain, Ross said softly, 'We're nearly there, I't@Lhing aside a tree 
branch, Hollis could see the river.  could also see a wooden cabin.
     "VI-,at's Mr Greenstein's place.  He only comes once a Ross said.  
He fumbled in his pocket and produced [,,,inch of keys.  'They all 
leave their keys with me.' h@le the rain dripped off his Stetson hat, 
he selected a y. 'What do you think?' "@c)u stay here, Sheriff.  I'll 
take a look,'Hollis said, and taking the key from Ross, he moved fast 
in a crouch fwards the cabin.
     Watching him, Ross saw his deputy really knew his b;.isiness.  He 
seemed to melt into the trees and shrubs, ,)ving like a shadow with the 
speed of a hunting Ross stayed where he was, fingering his rifle.  He 
felt @,id about letting Hollis do this, but he knew the younger ,@an 
could handle this dangerous situation much better an he could.  He 
thought of Tom Mason who had (i I iven up to Loss's farm and to his 
death.  He should liver have let him go up there alone.
     Now, he had let his @,(@cond deputy go forward alone.  Suppose 
Hank got @,ii'lied7
     Trying to imitate Hollis's movements, Ross i@-!oved forward until 
he was within twenty yards of the @@bin.  Crouching, he covered the 
cabin with his rifle, ll!@tened and waited.
      He waited for perhaps len minutes.  They were longest minutes he 
could remember, then he saw Ho appear around the side of the cabin and 
wave to him Relieved, Ross hurried to him, 'Can't see a trace of a 
break-in, sheriff,' Hollis said.  'All the window shutters are tight.  
The dccr's okay, but he could be in there.' 'We'll check it out.
     It was a nervy half hour before Ross relocked the door of the 
deserted cabin.
     Both men now fully realised the task they faced.  A@, they had 
checked the four rooms of the cabin they known that any moment there 
could be a blast of fire.  It had been a nerve-stretching job: four 
more cEiii"), to checki 'The next one belongs to Mr Franklin.  I-le 
comes f)(rf@ regularly twice a year.  He's due at the end of the Mol-@ 
@ ll.@

     'Who looks after these cabins while they're en)[)i@l'.?  Hollis 
asked.

     'MY wife, Mary, organises' it - These guys let her k3 when they 
are coming and she sends a couple of wa!it(,@@ down to clean up.  
Franklin's place is about two -bunt) yards further on.' Again Hollis 
led the way.  Again there was tens Again Hollis checked for a break-in. 
 Again the t searched the cabin.  Both men were very edgy by nwoow, l I 
y the time they had checked out the fourth cabin, the tiriie was 
15.45.

     Standing in the big lounge, Ross took off his soaking slicker.

     'I guess we'll take a break, Hank.  Let's eat.  There's 0 1 i 1 y 
one more cabin to check.  If he isn't there, then I guess he isn't in 
the forest.  There's nowhere else for him to hicl:(-,' Hollis took off 
his slicker, wiped his face with a handkerchief and sat down.

     Ross produced the ham sandwiches and the two 1rcn ate hungrily.

     'The last cabin we have to check, Hank,' Ross said as he munched, 
'belongs to Mr Perry Weston, who is script-writer.  He's a real nice 
fellow: lots of has a place on Long Island.
     He bought this lodge three years ago, and had it worked over: made 
it cy.
     For the first year, he came every other month.  He's a keen 
fisherman.
     Many a time I had drinks with him at his lodge or in Rockville.  
Then he married a girl fourteen years or so younger than he.  Fishing 
wasn't her sc-,r@e.  Mr Weston wrote to Mary asking her to look after 
tl- place, saying one day, he hoped to be back, Mary t,@ the lodge 
every month and keeps it nice.  He hasn't @@r, up these past two years, 
but Mary keeps a check o@!  tli(@ freezer, There's plenty of food.  The 
lodge would i i@t to Logan.' ()Ills finished his sandwich, then 
looked at his watch.
     t i i-i-te was 16.05.
     i ',z)e getting dark in a couple of hours.  Shall we go?' Ross 
stood up and stretched.  He put on his Slid 'Looks like the rain's 
lessening.' i@, two men picked up their rifles and left the cabin.  
waited until Ross had locked up, then started @ri) the muddy path by 
the river.  @',)(,.ut a half mile ahead,' Ross said.
     I,) ing silently, still hampered by the mud and water I vered the 
path, the two men began to converge on ry laleston's fishing-lodge.
     iirn f3rown had repaired the plug on the TV set, had Burned the 
set on and, for the past hour, sat watching a police movie.  From time 
to time, he released a derisive wi)istie.
     'Cops don't act this way,' he muttered.  'What crapl' Jerry sat 
away from the set, nursing a glass of Scotch.  The loud voices, the 
sound of gun fire, the roaring cars di(-in't disturb his worried 
thoughts.
     When people put pressure on me, I hit back.  That's @,7riural, 
isn't it?  I promise you.  You give me away and we'll share a double 
funeral.
     Perry recalled the vicioiis expression on Brown's face when he had 
said this.  He was sure Brown wouldn't hesitate to wipe him out if 
Perry made one false move.
     Jesus!  he thought.  What a situations He had to di everything he 
could think of to keep this man relaxed: zii pressure: no criticism: 
friendly understanding.  Liste-n to] i him, Perry said to himself.  Go 
along with him.
     Let him talk when he wants to.
     The movie came to an end and Brown switched off set.
     'Junk,' he said.  'Do you write junk like that, Perr,!@7' 'I hope 
not.  I don't write for TV.' 'No,' Brown turned in his chair and stared 
at Perry.  'I guess you're pretty smart.  You make a lot of money?' 
Keep this ape relaxed, Perry told himself as he s ii(@,

     I

     make more than I did when I was your age.
     'How much money do you make7' 'It depends.  Each year varies, 
Around sixty thou@:,i-, but it's taxed.' Perry made much more than 
this, ban wasn't going to tell this man just how much he did 'Sixty 
thousand ... nice.  Have you got money 'Around five hundred.' 'You 
could get more7' 'Yes, from the Rockville bank.' 'That's good news.  I 
will need a stake, Perry.  with y,3ti?' Perry forced a smile.
     ,Okay with me, Jim.' Brown nodded again.
     'It'll have to be okay with you, Pe", right dowt-@, til- I line.' 
'Looks like it.' "@eah.  Sixty thousand bucks.  Know the hi,@,gest 
sui-@- money I lifted off a sucker7 Two hundred dollars ai,)' gold 
watch that wasn't gold.' 'People don't carry much money around with 
these days.' 'That's right, but you can get money from the bai i Perry 
nodded.
     Brown got to his feet and went to the window.  Lifting aside the 
curtain, he eered out.
     could be here 'The rai@s stooping.  That means the cops his 
ice-cold before long.' He turned and stared at Perry , they come7' eyes 
menacing.  'You I"-Now What to say when . eady spelt it out,' Perry 
said quietly.  'We 'You!ve a r don't have to go over the dialogue 
again.' dorit play it tricky.  That way, you stay alive.
     Ur@,erstand?' @@(2or You.  So I don't play it tricky.' parted in 
a grin-l'irown's thick lips guy who works on;3
     garbage-truck

     smart.  Any so don't

     Ll nds up with a joint like this must be saart, all it tricky.' 
'@-'@,Qkay,l'msmart,'PerrYsai-d.'Oneth, g,jim,ifthe @n iicq do came 
here, you',ve left the Stetson hat and the ara@e.  If they find them 
... I He stopped as in my 9 eering grin.
     Brow@s sl rt guy, I don't get caught.  I've got the hat 1,@,@,.en, 
syna Brown said.  'yo !!e , slicker hicldei in my room t have to 
worry about me.  All you have to do i

     t-, about yourself.'

     fry shrugged.

     'I have things in the car.  Clothes, a typewriter, busines 7'

     I'd like to 'have them.  Okay with you Brown thought for a long 
moment, then he nodded.  H ')k from his pocket the key to the garage 
door.

     e te

     'Go ahead.  Unload the car, Nothing tricky.  Let m )@u 
something.  I'm good at two things.  I cooled for m man ,vho liked his 
food.
     That's one thing I'm 900 ['he sun in its holster flashed into his 
hand - 'I'm ver if, but no tric' NVith a gun, Go ahead, get your sti 
d his hand as a sigrat to Ross, ploddi ,I !)Ins lifte stop.
     Under the drippi r(@lgh the Tn@d and rain, to o rqcn came 
together

     the tw Is [odge Hollis whispered.

     'Sor@neone's in Weston n-ian's just come out of the garage.  
'I'here's a car there They were within fifteen yards of the 
fisttirt@lad forward and peered through the rain.
     Ross moved  recognised Perry Weston as he was unloading bagg from 
a car.
     With Hollis crouching by his side, he said, 'That's Weston.' 'You 
mean that's the owner of the place?' 'That's him.' For a long moment, 
they watched Perry drag out two suitcases, then he disappeared from 
sight.
     Ross moved out of the cover of the trees with Hollis at his heels.
     Brown, watching, spotted the Stetson hats.
     Perry came into the living-room and dumped the suitcases.
     'I've got my typewriter to collect,' he said.
     'Take it easy, buster,' Brown said softly.  'They're here.  Two 
goddamn cops.  You know what to do.  One stupid move from you and 
you're dead.  Go ahead and get your typewriter.' Perry gaped at him.
     'They're here?  What do you mean?' 'Get moving or there'll be a 
shoot-out, and the first to go will be you!  Gal' The threat in Brown's 
voice was like a blast of icy wind to Perry.  For a long moment he 
stood paralysed.  Brown gave him a shove, then ran up the stairs.
     11,11 be watching, buster,' he called.  'One stupid move and 
you're dead.' Bracing himself, Perry walked back to the garage.
     Ted Fleichman sat in his car, parked opposite the Westens' house, 
feeling like a lump of ielly.  Sweat ran down his face.  His hands, 
resting or, the steerinc-wheel, trembled.
     jous!  he was thinking.  That vicious little bitchl He recalled 
the sound of the bullet as it had zipped past his face.  An inch to the 
right and he would have been deadi What a n-lug he had been to have 
underestimated this girl I Man!  This could cause real troublet Suppose 
she called the cops?  He wiped more sweat off his f ace and made an 
effort to control his shattered nerves.  uldn't call the cops.  She

     No, he assured himself, she wa land him in

     was too smart to do that.  She'd not only trouble, but herself - 
He had had enough of Sheila Weston.  He wanted outHe would tell Dorrie 
to take him off the assignment.  Let h, and good luck to himl Fred 
handle this bite okay.  He wasn't going Sunday the office was closed.  
So, ce the cops to sit in the car outside her house, taking a chon 
could descend on him.
     He thought of his sick wife.  He couldi-i't remember when last 
they had spent Sunday together.  He was always watching some randy 
woman or randy man seven days of the week.  Id be sur- Well, okay, he 
would go home.  His wife wOu I,-,z-;!;ed and pleased .  He'd take her 
out for dinner this evel@iI@ g. To hell with the costi To hell with 
Sheila Weston!  He ngine and pulled away from the kerb.  He t @i 
7-ted the car's ee office that he had a stomach upset.
     c@)t,tld always tell th T hell with them anywayl Now, relaxing, 
he drove @oTnewards.
      Sheila stood at the window and watched-him go.  She had quickly 
come out of her faint and had walked unsteadily into the living-room.  
She had stood behind the muslin curtains, watching Fleichman as he sat 
in his car.  Then when she saw him pull away from the kerb, she drew in 
a long breath of relief.  He was going!
     She moved away from the window and sat down in one of the 
lounging-chairs.
     For some twenty minutes, she stared into space, her mind active.  
What an experience!  she thought.  This must never happen again.  Then 
her mind shifted to her husband.
     What's the matter with me?  she asked herself.  Why do I act like 
a goddamn tramp?
     Perryl She felt an overwhelming need to be with him.  Ever since 
they had married, he had been kind and understanding.  Whenever he 
hadn't been writing, he had been more than lovable.  He had always 
spoilt her.  Although she had been demanding, he had done his best to 
please her.
     She beat her clenched fists on her knees.
     The trouble with you, you stupid bitch, she thought, is you're 
over-sexed.
     You have only to look at any handsome man and you want him to 
stick it in you.
     This must stopf Perry is marvellous in bed.  He loves youl These 
other men just want your body, but Perry really loves you!  I want him 
and I need himi She thought back on her various lovers, then she 
thought of Julian Lucan.
     She moaned to herself.  What a mad, reckless fool she had been!
     This must stop!
     Then she remembered what Fleichman had said when she had asked him 
who was employing him to watch her.
     Nothing to do with Mr Weston.  I can't name my client.  That would 
be a breach of confidence.
     Her expression hardened.  Ever since Perry had become the top 
scriptwriter, she had felt that he was dominated by Silas S. Hart.  She 
had once met this man and had hated him.  She knew he had no time for 
her.  When any mart didn't fall for her, she automatically hated him.  
She had an instinctive feeling this powerful movie mogul would like 
nothing better than to break up their marriage.
     So it was obvious: this ghastly blackmailer's client was Silas S. 
Harti She remembered Mavis had said Perry had been seen by her husband 
at Jacksonville airport, yet Perry had told her he was going to Los 
Angeles to work for Hart, so why should he be in Florida?
     She sat back, thinking.  This was another of Hart's dirty tricks 
to separate them.  This fishing-lodge Perry had so often talked to her 
about, had tried so hard to persuade her to go there with himl Yes, he 
must be there.
     She had a suffocating urge to get away from this house, to be with 
Perry, to talk to him.  She had to confess.  Perry was always 
understanding.
     jumping to her feet, she ran up to the bedroom.  As she began to 
pack a suitcase, she felt released.  In a few hours, she would be with 
Perry.  She would tell him everything.  She would ask that they might 
begin afresh.  Why not?  They could begin afresh.
     Anything, she thought as she closed the suitcase, rather than stay 
alone in this house.
     Packed, dressed, she carried the suitcase down to the lobby and 
called the airport.  She was told a flight to Jacksonville was due off 
in two hours.  Sheila booked a reservation.  She had plenty of time.
     Again she went to the window.  There was no car parked outside the 
house.
     She felt a moment of triumph.  She had frightened this filthy 
blackmailer away.
     So, for the moment, she was no longer being watchedi She scribbled 
a hasty note to Liz, telling her she would be away for a week or so, 
and to look after the house.  Then she telephoned for a taxi.  She then 
went into the lobby to wait for the taxi and she saw the gun lying on 
the floor by the front door where she had dropped it when she had 
fainted.
     As she saw the gun the shock of realising that she had nearly 
committed murder made her close her eyes.  God!  she thought.  What a 
mess I'm inl Perryl He would be the solutionl She must tell him 
everythingi She picked up the gun and stuffed it into her handbag, not 
knowing what else to do with it.
     Seventy minutes later, she was at the airport.  Half an hour 
later, sitting relaxed in the aircraft, she was heacl,;,ng for 
Jacksonville.
     Sheriff Ross and Deputy Sheriff Hollis standing just behind him, 
watched Perry return to the garage.
     'I'll go talk to him,' Ross said.  'You keep out of si@ht.  Let's 
take it easy, huh?' 'I'll cover you, Sheriff,' Hollis said.  'You take 
it a Logan could be there.' Ross walked slowly towards the lighted 
garage, at the alert.  He arrived at the entrance of the ga ,ig@ Perry 
heaved the typewriter from the car's boot.
     'Hi, there, Mr Weston,' Ross said.
     Perry was braced for this encounter, although lie ii,@fri't 
expect to see Sheriff Ross.  He put down the typewriter and forced a 
smile.
     'Why, hello, Jeffl' He came forward.  'What are you doing here in 
this weather7' The two men shook hands.
     'I could say the same to you, Mr Weston,' Ross s,-@l.
     'You couldn't have come at a worse time.' 'I guess you're right.  
I'm working on a movie, arid thought I'd get away from the big city.  I 
didn't expect.  t.--) run into this.' 'You just arrived, Mr Weston7' 
'Got in late last night.  The road down here is murder.  I guess I was 
lucky to make it.' 'You on your own, Mr Weston?' 'That's right.' 'All 
okay with the lodge7' 'Sure.' Perry made the effort and, forcing a 
smile, @e we,-it on, 'A million thanks to Mary.  The place is fin(--.' 
Ross turned and signalled to Hollis who came forward.  'This, Mr 
Weston, is my new deputy: Hank Hollis.' 'Glad to know you, Hollis,' 
Perry said as the two men shook hands.  'Rifles, huh?  You two can't be 
out hunting7' "F@iat's what we're doing,' Ross said quietly.
     'Well, what do you know?'Perry was trying desperately to sound 
casual.
     'Conte on in.  You'd like coffee or something7' 'We wa@t come in,' 
Ross said.  'We'd only muddy up your place.' He pointed to his 
mud-encrusted boots.
     'Come oni Take them off I I bet you could use some

     coffee.  You two look half drowned.' then Ros

     Ross and Hollis exchanged glances, s nodded.
     'Thanks, Mr Weston.  We sure could use some coffee.' '(-.et those 
boots off and'come on in.  I'll start coffee, c r 7 @ said, picking up 
the typewriter.  'You know the way, YOU7, A @, both men str'

     ip ank.  I guess it's okay, but ped off their slickers and their 
boots,

     .()@;s said quietly, 'Keep alert, H @()Ii't let's take chances.' " 
i'he rifles7' Hollis asked.
     'I-eave them here.' Ross patted his revolver holster.  'Just let's 
watch it, Hank.' He led the way into the big living-room, both men in 
th@ir stocking feet.  cepan.  He In the kitchen, Perry poured coffee 
into a sau had no idea where Brown was hiding.  Upstairs7 He could be 
anywhere.  We'll share a double funeral.  He was surprised to find how 
steady his nerves had become . He no longer felt frightened.  This 
situation was developing into a [)Io t for a movie script: the kind of 
script Silas S. Hart was ivanting.  He paused for a moment, thinking.  
He realised he was playing with fire.  Any moment Brown could turn 
vicious, but it was possible, if he played the cards carefully, Brown 
could be kept under control.
     Perry felt a surge of confidence.  He knew for certain that if he 
gave Ross the slightest hint that Brown was hiding somewhere in the 
lodge, there would be.
     a shootout.  He knew for sure Brown would never be taken alive.
      Some situation!  Already, lie could imagine how to begin the 
script.  He poured coffee into two mugs.  So, okay, play this very 
cool.  This could develop into a great movie.
     He carried the two mugs into the living-room to find the two 
officers standing awkwardly, looking around.
     'Make yourselves at home,' he said.  'Sit down.  Here ' He handed 
the two mugs of coffee to the two men, ... then dropped into a lounging 
-chair.
     'You didn't tell me.  What are you two doing out here in this 
goddamn rain?' Both men sat down, facing him.
     'Well, Mr Weston, we're hunting a killer,' Ross said.  'I had an 
idea he might be hiding in one of the fishing-lodges.  We've checked 
them out.  So, I was wrong.' 'A killer7 You don't mean this man Logan?  
I picked up a radio warning.' 'That's the man.' Ross paused, then went 
on, 'Would you remember Jud Loss, Mr Weston?' Perry had a sudden cold 
feeling in the pit of his stomach.
     'Jud Loss7 Why, sure.  He owns an orange-farm.  We used to have a 
drink when he was in the village.  N4ce fellow.  What about him?' 'Ever 
met his wife?  His daughter?' 'Can't say I met his wife, but I remember 
his daughter ... nice kid.  What about him?' 'Logan arrived at the farm 
and massacred the three .)f them with an axe.' 'Good Godl' Perry stared 
at Ross in horror.  'They'@-e dead?' 'My deputy, Tom Mason, went out to 
the farm.  He wit unlucky.  Logan gave him the same axe Lreatment.' 
jerked his thumb at Hollis.  'He's replaced Mason,' Into Perry's mind 
flashed the hesitant thought.  Shoul@.-I he tell these men that Brown 
was here?
     We'll share a double funeral.
     No!
     'This is a terrible thing, Jeff,' he said.  'Do you think this man 
is still in the district7' 'He could be.  The State police and the 
National Guard are hunting for him.
     The State police think he held up a potorist and got through the 
roadblocks and is in Miami.' Perry nodded.  He was sure, somewhere, 
Brown was stening, gun in hand.
     Having finished his coffee, Ross got to his feet.
     'We've got to get along, Mr Weston.  Will you be staying long7' 'A 
couple of weeks.' Perry heaved himself out of his chair.  'Could be 
longer.
     It depends how the work goes.' 'Do you want my wife to look after 
you, Mr Weston7' 'Not right now, Jeff.  I'll telephone her ... okay7' 
'You do that.  I guess the rain will clear by tomorrow.
     It's been a rough three days.' 'Let's hope.' Perry went with them 
to the garage and waited until the two men had put on their boots and 
struggled into their soaked slickers.  He shook hands.
     'I'll be around, Jeff, but for the next week, I've a big job to 
cope with.  Give Mary my love.  I'll call her when I need help.' Okay, 
Mr Weston.' Ross said, picking up his rifle.  'Best of luck for the 
movie.' He and Hollis moved out into the rain and started up the muddy 
path into the forest.
     'Well, I guess I was wrong,' Ross said.  'Okay, you can't always 
be right.  I guess Jacklin makes sense when he thinks Logan got through 
to Miami where he could get lost.' Hollis said nothing the shelter . He 
plodded through the mud behind Ross, but when they reached of the 
dripping forest he said, 'Hold it a moment, Sheriff.' Ross stopped and 
turned.
     'What is it, Hank?' 'I think Logan could be in Weston's place, and 
Weston, under gun threat, is covering for him.' 'What are you saying7' 
Ross stared at Hollis.  'How can you say a thing like that?' 'A hunch, 
Sheriff,'Hollis said quietly.  'I've got a hunch that Logan is there.' 
'A hunch7 What do you mean7' 'Maybe you can tell me something, 
Sheriff.' Hollis's  voice was cold and hard - 'Why is the telephone 
torn out of the wall?  While you were talking i was looking around.  Do 
you think Weston out the telephone cable, killing the telephone?' Ross 
stiffened, He felt suddenly old.  He should have seen what Hollis had 
seen.
     'We'll go back.  We'll ask Mr Weston .
     'With respect, Sheriff,' Hollis said, 'we shouldn't do that.  You 
don't want Mr Weston killed, do you?' Having plodded miles in mud and 
rain, Ross felt tired and defeated.  He made the effort to say, 'You 
really think Logan is holed up there?' 'I don't know.  He could be.  
Why the disconnected telephone?' Ross thought.
     'You think if Logan's holed up here, he'll start shooting?' 
'What's he got to lose7
     If we move in, the first to go will be Weston.' 'You could be 
wrong, couldn't you7 Mr Weston sajo he was alone.' 'You'd say that if 
you knew a Sun was pointing at you.' With his boots in thick mud and 
feeling the rain dripping on his Stetson hat, Ross felt baffled.  Up to 
now, Rockville had been free of crime.  Now he realised that he had a 
situation that, tired and feeling old, he couldn't handle.
     'We'd better alert the State police,' he said.
     'With respect, Sheriff,' Hollis said quietly, 'that wouldn't be 
the way to play it.  Frontal assault, if Logan is there, wouldn't save 
Weston's life.  He'd be the first to go.' Ross thought, then nodded.
     'So how do you suggest we handle it, Hank7' 'We should let this 
situation cool.  If Logan is there, holding a gun on Weston, and I 
could be wrong, but if he is, I want him to think we don't think he is 
there.  That way he could relax, and when a killer like him relaxes, 
then we can make our move.' 'What move, Hank?'

     tomorrow.  When I was in the army, I trained as an

     ti-sniper.  I know how to watch and wait.  I want YDur ission, 
Sheriff, to do just that-.  watch and wait.  if gan is there and he 
feels there's no pressure on him, he CO-Lild relay-, and that's the 
time to nail him.  Suppose we go back to the office and talk about it?' 
g. 'If Logan is 'I- don't like it, Hank,',Ross said, hesitatin uld go 
back th2re, Mr Weston is in danger.  I think we sho and search the 
lodge.' - there-, Weston's a dead man, @if e do that, and Logan is We 
too could be dead.  Do me a favour?  play it my way Let it cool; let me 
watch.' Ross turned this over in his mind - He felt confident that 
Hollis was talking sense, but still he hesitated, remembering Tom 
Mason- Vietnam,' Hollis said quietly, 'When I was serving in it took me 
ten ,niper knocked off twenty young men, days, hidden in the jungle, to 
get him.  Finally the bastard relaxed and I spotted him.  Sheriff, this 
is a specialist's job@ 1'rn a specialist.  Watch and wait .  Will you 
let me play it my way7' Ross put his, hand on Hollis's shoulder.
     Okay, son, he said.  'We'll do it your way, but I mus report to 
jenner.' Hollis shook his head.
     'Again with respect, Sheriff, we should tell no one.  I'l .  . and 
I'll watch.  We' come back here tomorrow evening, e'll start action 
keep in touch by radio .  if you tell lenner, h and that's what we 
don't want right now.  We don't know i Logan is there, so don't tell 
anyone.' Ross shrugged helplessly 'Okay.' He turned and began to plod 
along the path, then paused.
     'I'll have to tell jenner something' u tell him we' 'Sure.' Hollis 
grinned.  'I suggest YO e haven't fou checked out the fishing-lodges, 
and w Logan - We haven't found him yet, have we, Sheriff 7' Would you 
remember lud Loss, his wife and dauzhter?
     Logan arrived at the farm and massacred the three of them with an 
axe.
     Perry leaned against the Toyota, feeling sick.  He vividly 
remembered jud Loss: a short, thickset man with girigercolout-ed hair.  
Loss often came down to the Rockville bar, and he and Perry often had 
beers together.
     Murderedi He would make a break for it!  Run after Ross!  Get away 
from this nightmare.
     'Very nice, Perry.' Brown's hard clipped voice made his heart skip 
a beat.  He turned.
     Brown was standing in the doorway, gun in hand.
     'Very nice,' Brown repeated.  'Come on in, Perry.  laie both can 
relax, huh7
     Those slobs won't be coming back.  You played it really cool.'The 
gun waved at Perry.  'Come on in.' Under the threat of the gun, Perry 
walked unsteadily into the living-room.
     He heard Brown lock the garage door, then he came into the room.
     'For handling that, Perry,' Brown said, 'I'll cook you a nice 
supper.  Like a chicken?' Perry sat down.
     'I don't want anything.' 'Sure you do.  You want a big Scotch.' 
Brown droppe the gun into its holster and crossed to the liquor ca 
bin,.i, He poured Scotch, came back to Perry and thrust the giants into 
his hand.
     'You'll be okay in a moment, My old was a lush.  When I could 
steal a bottle, Scotch cheered him up.' Perry swallowed the drink in 
one long, greedy gul), then he shuddered and dropped the glass onto 
the floor.
     Brown sat on the arm of a lounging-chair, watching.
     'You filthy brute!' Perry blurted out.  'You killed a pa(!  
friend of mine!' Brown shrugged.
     'I didn't know.  If I had known it wouldn't have mac any 
difference.  The stupid jerk put me under pressure.  get mad when jerks 
put me under pressure.  Here's happened.  There was this car crash and 
the two cop,; killed.  I took off.  I walked and ran in the rain for 
ten i-niles.  I hadn't eaten for two days.  I was bloody hungry.  I 
came to this farm.  I banged on the door.
     This jerk opened up.  I asked him for food.' Brown's face 
hardened.  'Know what he said to me?  He said "Get the hell off my 
land.  I don't give hand-outs to bums!"
     and he slammed the door.  I had nowhere to go.  I was wetter than 
a drowned dog.
     Know something, Perry?  When I want something and some stupid jerk 
won't part, I get mad and, when I get mad, it's just too bad for stupid 
jerks.  I found the axe in a shed.  I went back and kicked the door in. 
 I found the jerk and his wife settling to a hot meal.  I,fixed them.  
Then I heard a scream and there was a girl coming down the stairs.  Her 
screams got me madder so I chased her up to her room and fixed her.  
Then I went downstairs and ate the meal on the table.  It was good.' 
Brown nodded.  'Yeah, it sure was szood.  The telephone bell kept 
ringing.  I guessed it was the -cops, checking.  I guessed before long, 
they'd come up to check, so I hid in the shed.  When I saw there was 
only one of them, I fixed him and took his car.  That's how it 
happened, Perry.  All stupid jerks.' He stared for a long, hard moment 
at Perry, 'Don't you be a stupid jerk.  Now, I'll go fix a chicken 
dinner.  Give yourself another drink.' He got to his feet, then paused. 
 Watching him, Perry saw Brown's face turn into a snarling, vicious 
mask.
     The sight of his murderous-looking face sent a chill down Perry's 
spine.
     He saw Brown was staring at the disconnected telephone cable.
     'Goddamn it!' Brown muttered.  'I should have fixed that.' He 
turned.  'They didn't say anything, did they?  I was listening.  Maybe 
they didn't spot it.  The old fart is bar, nless, but the other guy 
looked tough.' His eyes narr,' @oed.
     'I'll take a look.  You sit right here.  Don't be a S' I if-)id 
jerk.' Jerry heard him run upstairs.  A moment later, he came I-  k, 
wearing Tom Mason's slicker.
     'II take a look,' he said and, opening the front door, he appeared 
into the growing gloom and rain.
     erry got to his feet and poured himself another Scotch.
     There was nothing he could do, he told himself.  The Scotch had 
got him over the shock of hearing the Loss family had been murdered.  
He returned to his chair, lit a cigarette and sipped the drink.  He 
looked at his watch.  The time was now 19.10.  Already it was turning 
dark.  He thought of the night ahead.  How long would this man remain 
here?  He finished his drink.  He now felt relaxed and a little high.
     Would Ross and Hollis return7 Had they spotted the telephone 
cable7 Did they suspect Brown was here7
     He got to his feet and began to prowl around the room.  Brown 
would never be taken alive.  We'll share a double funeral.  For the 
first time in his life, Perry realised how important life was to him.  
He had to do everything he could to prevent a shoot out, knowing that 
he would be the first to get shot.
     It was over half an hour before Brown appeared silently in the 
living-room.
     After his third Scotch, Perry was dozing in the armchair.  He came 
awake with a start as Brown closed the door.
     'They've gone,'Brown said.'Stupid jerksl They couldn't have 
spotted the telephone.  Copsi They don't know their asses from their 
elbows I I followed them right to their car.  They've gonel' Perry 
heaved a sigh of relief.
     'Okay, Perry, I'll fix supper,' Brown said.  'You hungry now?' 
Perry discovered he was hungry.
     'Sure.' 'Tonight,' Brown said, 'you get locked in your room.  I 
sleep light, Perry.  If there's trouble, I'll handle it.  Understand?' 
'Sure,' Perry said.
     Nodding, Brown went into the kitchen.  Perry heard him whistling 
tunelessly as he put the chicken on the spit.
     Sheila Weston wheeled the hand trolley containing her suitcase and 
vanity-box into the arrival centre of Jacksonville's airport.
     It had to be raining I she thought.  She had no idea where to find 
Perry's fishing-lodge.  All she knew was it was near some village 
called Rockville.
     I Describing the lodge, Perry had told her it was right by the 
river.  He had said hopefully he would teach her to fish.  Sheila had 
firmly declined.
     'I don't like walking, I've seen a river and to hell with fishing, 
I she had said.
     That settled that.
     Now aching to talk to Perry, she was determined to get to the 
fishing-lodge.
     The Hertz Rental people would probably know.  Perry had said he 
always rented a car to get to the lodge.
     The time now was 19.15, and she could see through the glass doors 
not only steady rain, but the light was failing.
     As Sheila approached the Hertz desk, she saw a broadshouldered 
man, his back to her, leaning on the counter, talking to a pretty Hertz 
clerk who was smiling the way young girls smile when a man has made his 
mark.
     Sheila eyed the man's broad back.  He was wearing a beautifully 
cut, lavender-coloured country suit.  His dark hair was shot with grey.
     She left the trolley and walked up to the desk.
     The Hertz girl was saying, 'I really wouldn't advise it, Mr 
Franklin.  Better wait until tomorrow.'She then looked at Sheila and 
said, 'I won't be a minute.' The man turned and regarded Sheila.
     She felt a little jolt run through her.  This was some man!  She 
immediately thought of Douglas Fairbanks Jr when he was in his prime.  
This man had the same kind of features, not only that, but he had a 
personality that came out of him, and made Sheila feel randy.
     'Attend to the lady, Penny,' the man said.  'I'm in no rush.' The 
girl lost her enchanted smile and moved along the counter.
     'What can I do for you, madam7' 'I am Mrs Perry Weston,' Sheila 
said.  'Did my husband hire a car from you yesterday?'  The girl's 
face lit up.  Even remembering the thrill of dealing with Perry Weston 
remained.
     'Why, yes, madam.'

     'How do I get to Rockville and his fishing-lodge7 Would you 
know7'

     The girl looked blank.
     'Rockville, yes, but Mr Weston's fishing-lodge, no.
     The man whom the Hertz girl had called Mr Franklin said in a deep, 
soft voice that sent a tingle down ShFila's spine, 'Excuse me.  I 
couldn't help but overhear.  1 am Perry's neighbour.  I have a 
fishina-lodge about a mile from his.' 0

     Sheila turned her back on the Hertz girl and gae Franklin a 
flashing smile.

     'What a coincidence, Mr Franklin.  I believe Perry has mentioned 
your name .'This was strictly untrue.
     'I'm going to Rockville and could show you the way, but not 
tonight.  Miss Pentagast tells me the roads down there are bad.  
Perhaps your husband is meeting you?, Sheila flashed a smile as she 
moved away from the desk, aware the Hertz girl was listening.  Franklin 
moved after her until they were away from the desk.
     'It's a surprise visit,' Sheila said.
     I'm coming.' 'No, he doesn't know Franklin lifted an eyebrow.
     'You won't make it tonight, Mrs Weston, but tomorrow, if the rain 
clears, I'll be happy to drive you there.' 'That's very kind of you, Mr 
Franklin, Well, I guess I'll have to find a hotel.'Sheila put on her 
helpless look which had paid dividends in the past.  'Do you know of a 
good hotel, Mr Franklin?'

     Franklin studied her for a brief, searching moment, then he 
smiled.

     'I come down here every other month,' he said 'Sure, there'a an 
excellent motel I stay at.  Would you like'e me to make arrangements for 
you, Mrs Weston?' Again the helpless look.
     'I don't want to be a nuisance .
     'It'd be my pleasure.  I'll get a taxi.  Just leave your bag gage, 
Maybe you will want to telephone your husband?' Oh, no, Sheila thought.
     What she felt was the urgent need to get into bed with this 
beautiful man.
     'I don't think so.  He would only fuss.  I'll call him tomorrow.' 
They regarded each other, both smiling.
     'I'll fix everything for you, Mrs Weston.  just wait here.' Sheila 
sat down on one of the benches while Franklin wheeled her trolley 
outside.
     You never know, she thought, what's around the corner, then she 
remembered Julian Lucan.  Who was this man, Franklin?  He must be all 
right if he had a fishinglodge and knew Perry.  AR the same, Lucan 
haunted her.  He too had been suave, handsome and sexy.  She got to her 
feet and walked to the Hertz desk.
     The Hertz girl looked inquiringly at her.
     'Who is Mr Franklin7'Sheila asked.  'What does he do7' The girl 
gave a sly little smile.  She read the message.
     'Mr Franklin is the senior partner of Franklin & Bernstein, the 
New York lawyers, Mrs Weston.' Her sly servile widened.  'You could say 
he was important people.' The two girls exchanged looks, then Sheila 
smiled.  'Thank you,' she said, and returned to her seat.  Well, that's 
all right, she thought.  Maybe he won't want me in his bed.  Maybe ...
     After five or six minutes, Franklin appeared.
     'Sorry for the delay.  I had trouble getting rooms at the motel.  
Everyone seems to be staying over-night, but I've f@'@x(,d it.  Are you 
ready to go?' 'It is kind of you, Mr Franklin,' Sheila said in her most 
de,nure manner.
     'Since we could be near neighbours, suppose you call me Gene?' 'Of 
course.  Sheila.' 'Nice name.' Franklin took her elbow and steered 
her

     out to a waiting taxi.  'Would you dine

     On the brief drive to the motel, he said, 'I'd love to.' with me, 
Sheila?'  When they reached the imposing-lookirig motel, Sheila I 
could see just how important Gene Franklin was.  The staff bowed and 
scraped.  The luggage was whisked away.  Franklin shook hands with a 
beaming reception clerk.  Two bellboys conducted them down a corridor 
or@d opened two doors.
     'That's yours, Sheila,'Franklin said, generously tippin@ 'Suppose 
we meet in the foyer at eight thirty7' 'Of course.' Leaving him, she 
entered the big, comfortably furnished bedroom.  Her luggage was 
already on the rack.  She shift the door and looked around, then her 
smile brightened].  There was a communicating door to Franklin's room.
     She spent half an hour lying in a warm bath, relaxirig.  For this 
night, Perry was forgotten, also Julian Lucan and that ghastly 
blackmailer Fleichman.  Sheila was happy.
     Forty minutes later, she was being guided into the crowded 
restaurant by Gene Franklin, who gently held her elbow.  The touch of 
his warm hand sent thrills throu-h Sheila's body.
     The Maitre d'was there.  Chairs were pulled out, Menus flourished.
     'An aperitif, perhaps, Mr Franklin?, 'A martini, Sheila?' 'That 
would be lovely.' 'Two,'Franklin said.  As the Maitre d'whisked away, 
be went on, 'Do you like sea food, Sheila?' 'I adore it,' 'Then let me 
suggest.  They do shrimps steamed in beer.  Sounds odd, but it is 
excellent.  Then I suggest a small steal< and half a lobster with 
crabmeat stuffing.' 'Sounds utterly marvellous.' Two martinis appeared 
on the table.  The Maitre d' arrived and took the order.
     'Perhaps honey biscuits or a tossed salad?' 'No honey biscuits.  
Salad please,' Sheila said, The too,' Franklin said.  'Their honey 
biscuits are ey(-,l lent.  Sure?' 'Oh no.  I have to watch my 
weight.' -i'lie Maitre d'went away.
     'Watch your weight?' Franklin looked directly at her, i @i-c; 
handsome f ace srrtiling.  'I should have thought you had @ttiier 
things to watch.' S!leila stiffened.
     Oh?  What makes you say that?  What other things.' His smile 
widened.
     'You would know better than I would, wouldn't you, Sheila?' She 
suddenly felt a little uneasy.
     'I really don't know what you are talking about.' 'Never Mind.' He 
produced a solid-gold cigarette case.
     '@,!noke7' 'Not now, thank you.' She sipped her drink, regarding 
fie was certainly one of the most handsome men she h'al ever met.  I 
should have thought you had other things to ivatch.  What an odd thing 
to have said.  She shrugged off t-,he remark.
     'I don't know how long you will be staying at your Iiiisband's 
lodge,' Franklin said, 'but you'll need alliveather clothes.  Did you 
bring things with you?' 'All weather?' '-I'here are floods by the river 
and lots of mud.' '01-i!'Sheila looked dismayed.
     'I hadn't thought of that.
     Ustially, it is hot and sunny down here, isn't itl' 'Eventually, 
it will be.  I checked the forecast.  The rain is supposed to die out 
tomorrow morning.  All the same, 'II need boots, jeans and so on.  
There's a good shop just down the road.  'reil them where you are going 
and they'll train you out.' 'That's thoughtful of you.' 'i-he shrimps 
were served.  As they began to eat, Sheila asl(ed, 'What do you do for 
a living, Gene7' 'I'm a counsel at law.  These shrimps are good, 
aren't

     Delicious.  A counsel at law7 That sounds terribly

     iiiilortant.' "(es, you could say that.' 'Are you on vacation7' 
 'Business and pleasure.  I have to talk business with your husband.' 
Sheila stiffened.
     'Per@7' 'Yes.  I expect he's told you he and Silas S. Hart are 
putting a movie together.  I handle the legal work.' Sheila felt a rush 
of cold blood down her spine.  'Silas S. Hart?'

     'That's ri-ht.  You look surprised.  Mr Hart is my most important 
client.'

     'I didn't know.' Sheila found the shrimps weren't so delicious.
     That bastard Hart again!  she thought.  I'm sure he sicked that 
blackmailing investigator on me.  I should have thought you had other 
things to watch.  This handsorie, smiling man had given her a warningl 
There could be no other explanation.  All thoughts of sharing a bed 
with him this night vanished from her mind.  Even if she had made 
advances, she was now sure he wouldn't have responded.  She had only 
just missed a humiliating snub.
     There was a steel hard core in Sheila that had dismayed her 
parents.  From the moment she could talk, she had been difficult and 
obstinate.  Her parents had been kindly people, and had shown great 
patience which Sheila bad not appreciated.  She would much sooner have 
a blazing row with them and have done with it.  She really enjoyed 
fighting with Perry.  A good, blazing row, and then to make up was the 
spice of life to her.
     'Perry is at the fishing-lodge to find inspiration,' Frank]in said 
as they finished the shrimps.  'Mr Hart is relying on him.' 'I'm sure 
.'There was a sharp note in Sheila's voice.  Then with power always 
expect miracles.' She looked up to see Franklin, although still 
smiling, had a quizzical expression in his eyes.
     There was a pause while a waiter cleared the dishes.
     'I have some business to attend to tomorrow morning.  Th@t will 
give you time to do some shopping,' Franklin said.  'I suggest we have 
lunch together, then leave for the fishing-lodge immediately after.  It 
is a good forty-mile drive.' 'All right.' The i-nain course was served 
with a flourish.
     'Looks fine, doesn't it?' Franklin said, surveying his plate.
     'It looks wonderful.' They began to eat.
     ',So Perry isn't expecting you7' Franklin said, his voice casual.
     Sheila's guard was up.
     'He'll have a wonderful surprise.' She forked steak into her 
mouth.  'Hmm .  . . good.' Sheila, I'm wondering if it was such a good 
idea for you to come all this way.  You haven't even consulted Perry, 
have you7' She gave him a cold, steady stare.
     'Are you suggesting my husband won't be pleased to see me?  And if 
you are, please tell me what business it is of YOL!rS.' Franklin made a 
little grimace as if to imply this very young woman, seated opposite 
him, was going to prove more difficult than he had anticipated.
     "i\,4r Hart was particularly anxious, Sheila, for your husband to 
get down to important work without interi-up tion,' Franklin said 
quietly.  'That is the reason, and the only reason, why Perry has gone 
to his fishing-lodge ... to be able to concentrate and work.  Besides, 
Sheila, you couldn't have come at a worse time.  You will find the 
conditions at the lodge disagreeable.  I am told the footpaths are 
thick mud.  It has been raining non-stop for the past three days.  You 
will be cooped up in a small lodge and will distract Perry.' His smile 
appeared.  'As he doesn't expect you, don't you think it much more 
sensible for you to return to Long Island and leave Perry to work7' 
Sheila finished the steak and began on the lobster.
     'This crabmeat stuffing is fantastic,' she said.
     'Oh yes, The fish food here is excellent.  You haven't an-@wered 
my question.
     Don't you think.
      'I haven't forgotten your question.' Her pretty face was hard.  
'I should be glad if you wouldn't try to interfere with the lives of 
Perry and myself.  I am sure you are acting under orders from Hart.' 
'It's not a matter of interfering, Sheila.  Perry has a big deal on.
     By being with him, you could destroy his creative thinking.  
You're very young.  Perhaps you don't realise what a brilliant creative 
mind Perry has.  He has been a tremendous success.  There is a lot of 
money involved.  By descending on him, you could ruin a very important 
deal.' 'And Silas S. Hart would be terribly upset?' 'So would Perry.' 
'I don't think he would.  I think he would be glad to have me with him. 
 But as you appear to be so worried, Gene, I'll call him and let him 
settle this little argument.' 'That, of course would be the solution, 
but unfortunately I have already tried to contact him.  His telephone 
is out of order.' 'Then let's change the subject,' Sheila said.  'I'll 
have a coffee.' For the first time, Franklin lost his smile.  Looking 
at him, she saw why he was Silas S. Hart's attorney.  The grey eyes had 
suddenly turned to stone.
     'What subject would you like to talk about, Sheila7'he asked, 
signalling to the waiter.
     'Oh, anything.'She shrugged.
     'So let's talk about you.' The waiter cleared the dishes.
     'Not a very interesting subject,' Sheila said.
     'I think so.  You see, Sheila, you are a very young woman.  You 
are fortunate to be married to a rich, clever man.  Would you want to 
lose him7' The waiter placed the coffee before them.
     'That's my business,' Sheila snapped, 'but if it will satisfy your 
curiosity, I won't lose him.  Perry happens to love me.  He has many 
possessions.  I head the list.' 'Or do you just imagine you do?' Sheila 
sipped her coffee.
     'That's my business, and not yours.' 'I didn't want to bring this 
up,' Franklin said, 'but your husband has every reason and evidence to 
divorce you.' Sheila's face hardened.
     'Interesting.' There was a long pause while she stared around the 
restaurant.
     'EVery reason and evidence to divorce you,' Franklin repeated.  
'Now, please do what I suggest.  I will drive you to the airport 
tomorrow.  Go home.' Sheila finished her coffee and stood up.
     'I'm going to bed.  You will drive me to Perry's lodge tomorrow.  
If you don't, I will find a way to reach him.  Thank you for an 
excellent dinner.  Shall we say midday tomorrow?' 'I wonder if you 
realise, Sheila, that you are behaving like a selfish, spoilt brat,' 
Franklin said quietly, looking up at her.
     'Those were almost the same words my father used to say to me when 
he couldn't get his own way.' Sheila smiled.  'On second thoughts, I 
intend to find my own way to Perry's lodge.  I will be leaving early, 
so don't wait for me.  Is that understood?' Franklin shrugged, 'I can't 
stop You.  I do assure you, Sheila, Perry won't want a spoilt, selfish 
brat around when he is working.' 'We'll see .'Sheila leaned forward.  
'I'll return the compliment, Mr Franklin .
     In spite of your good looks and your charm, you are a toady.  You 
are frightened of Silas S. Hart.  I'm sorry for you, I am not 
frightened of him.  Goodnight,' and, turning, she walked out of the 
restaurant.
     Using the Ross's spare bedroom, Hank Hollis sl 10-00, knowing he 
would probably be up all nigh shave and a shower, wearing his uniform, 
he cai to the living-room.
     'I heard you moving around,' Mary called i kitchen.  'Breakfast is 
ready.  Sit down.' Hollis sat at the laid table, and Mary brought in a 
pile of waffles which -she set before him.
     'You eat that.  Eggs to follow,' she said, and returned to the 
kitchen.
     Ten minutes later, she returned with a plate of three eggs and two 
thick slices of grilled ham.
     She sat down opposite Hollis.
     'How's the Sheriff?' he asked, pushing aside a few remaining 
waffles and starting in on the eggs, 'Hank, he's not getting any 
younger,'Mary said quietly.  'He's a big worry to me.  He's been on the 
telephone since eight o'clock.  He told me what you plan to do.  He's 
worried.  I'm worried.  I don't think he'll ever forgive himself about 
Tom.
     Do you really think this man could be hiding in Mr Weston's 
lodge7' 'Look, Mrs Ross, this is police work.  I've been trained to 
check out possibilities.  There is a chance he could be there.  I don't 
know.' She nodded.
     'Yes, I understand.  Jeff wants to go with you, He keeps saying if 
he had gone with Tom, Tom might still be alive.' 'Frankly, Mrs Ross, I 
don't want him with me.
     He's not as young as I am.  I've dealt with situations like this 
bel ai-e.

     m the

     She put her pl him.
     @ooked directly at

     hasn't - You relax - He will be much more useful staying

     $ght here.' 'I told him that.' Hollis finished one slice of ham 
and started on the other.  'I'll spell it out to him too.  You cook a 
great breakfast, rs Ross.' urip, clasped hands on the table and 'I be 
careful.' Hank, you will grinned at her.
     ure.' He looked out of the window.  'Well, the rain's I and it 
looks as if the sun might come out.' Heed his breakfast, then pushed 
his plate aside.
     'That great.' e prepared food for you,' Mary said.  'There's half 
a cooked chicken and lots of sandwiches.  Jeff thinks you Id be in the 
forest for quite a while.'

     cou ed again.  'Many thanks.  I'll

     'That's terrific!' Hollis grinn go talk to the Sheriff.' nk?' 'You 
really will be careful, won't you, Ha 'I'll be careful.' He found Ross 
at his desk.
     'Hi, Sheriff,' be said as he came in.  'Any news7' 'Sleep well?  
Mary fed you?' Ross asked, turning in his

     chair.

     'Sure.  What's the neWS7' There's no 'Negative.  I've talked to 
jenner and jacklin sign of Logan.  I've called all the farmers: nothing 
there.  It looks to me Logan did get away before the road-blocks ere 
set up.' w 'Unless he's holed up with Weston.' stache.  'Jacklin tells 
me he 'Yes.' IZoss pulled at his mou now has two hundred armed men on 
the hunt.  Do you still think this man could be hiding with Weston?' 
'As I said last night, I don't know - It's a hunch.  I want to 
check.'

     I don't like you doing this on your own, Hank.  I should

     be coming with you.' 'Don't let's go over this again, Sheriff - 
This is my thing.
     Maybe nothing will come of it.  I plan to clir Weston's place and 
sit and wait.
     That's not the woods.  Leave it to me.  I'll keep in touch With a 
frustrated sigh, Ross nodded.
     'I guess you're right.  Well, okay, it's worth a try.' He got to 
his feet.  'I've checked your rifle.  There's a walkietalkie and a good 
pair of field glasses.
     Mary said she would provide food.  What else do you want?' Hollis 
stared at him for a long moment, then he said, 'I want to treat Logan 
as I once treated a murderous Vietnam sniper.  If I see Logan, I want 
to shoot him.  How do I stand?' Ross shifted uneasily.
     'That would be illegal, Hank.' 'I know, but who's going to prove 
he didn't shoot first?' Ross rubbed his chin.
     He thought of the vicious murders of the Loss family.  I-le 
thought of Tom Mason.
     'So he shot first,' he said looking directly at Hollis.  'Okay.  
You spot him, then kill him.  You have my backing all the way.' Hollis 
grinned.
     'That's all I want to know.' He moved over to where the rifle, the 
walkietalkie and the field-glasses were lying.  'Then I guess I'll get 
off.  Will you drive me to that turn-off road to Weston's place7 From 
there on, I'll be on my own.' Ross got to his feet.
     'Let's go then.' He put his hand on Hollis's shoulder.  'For God's 
sake, Hank, take no risks.  I don't want you to go the way Tom went.' 
'I don't want that either,' Hollis said.  His smile was grim.  'If I 
get a clear shot, I'll fix him, Sheriff.  If I spot him and can't get a 
shot, I'll alert you, then we'll have to think how to get at him.' Mary 
came in carrying the plastic sack of food.
     'You're off, Hank?' Her plump face was strained an,-i anxious.
     'Manythanks,MrsRoss.'HollispattedherarmL-"oil,@ worry.  It'll 
work out.'

     The two men went out into the steamy sunshine and got in the 
patrol car.

     AL 09.00, Sheila, dressed and packed, leaving her suitcase in the 
motel lobby, crossed the street to Cab Calhoun's sr ,)art's outfitting 
store.
     She had passed a restless night, and found the steamy heat from 
the earlymorning sun unpleasant.  Slight mist vias rising from the 
sodden street.  She entered the store, surprised at its size and its 
range of merchandise from fisliing.-tackle and sporting guns to clothes 
and footwear.
     From behind a long counter, a tall, black man with a griz@7led 
beard came to her, smiling.
     'Morning, ma'm,' he said.  'I'm Cab Calhoun.  Thank you for 
calling.  What can I do for you7' Sheila regarded this man and liked 
the look of him.  'You have quite a place here, Mr Calhoun.' 'I guess.  
It's taken me forty years to build it up.  It's as good, if not better, 
than any other store you'll find in Jacksonville.' 'Congratulations.'A 
pause, then Sheila said, 'I am Mrs Perry Weston.' Grizzled eyebrows 
lifted.
     'Mr Perry Weston?  Ah, sure.  I well remember him.  I had the 
pleasure to kit him out around three years ago .  A fine gentleman if I 
may say so.  I haven't seen him for too long.' 'I want to be kitted out 
too,' Sheila said.  'My husband if-, at his fishinglodge.  I am joining 
him.  What do you suggest I buy, Mr Calhoun?' 'You want 
fishing-tackle7' 'No.  Just sensible clothes.' Calhoun smiled.
     'That's no problem.  You will want a half a dozen cotton shirts 
with long sleeves, a couple of pairs of jeans and tivo pairs of boots, 
then you're home.' 'Do you know where my husband's fishing-lodge is?' 
'I,/Vhy, sure.' Calhoun looked a little startled.  'But Mr lcton will 
be fetching you, I guess.'  'No.  I'm giving him a surprise visit.  I 
want to get there on my oarn.' Calhoun scratched his beard.
     'If you'll excuse me, Mrs Weston, that's setting yokirs(if a 
tricky task.  It's my business to keep in touch with the local road 
conditions.  I know for a fact that them ro@,] leading down to Mr 
Weston's lodge is nearly washed out.  If you would wait three or four 
days to give the road a chance to dry out, then there'd be no problem.  
I dcL)t if Mr Weston could make it now.' 'I intend to go there this 
morning,' Sheila said.  'I would be glad if you would tell me how to 
get there.'She sinned, a determined expression on her face.  'My 
father one(, t,)Id me that obstacles were made to surmount.  I'm gain" 
tfiis

     morning.' @ll

     Calhoun studied her, then nodded.
     'Then f'll help you, Mrs Weston.  I can find someorf@ who will 
take you in a Jeep.  That's the only transport that will get you 
there.' 'I'm going alone.  I can handle a Jeep.  Can I hire one?' 'Oh, 
sure.  Okay, Mrs Weston, over there you'll find everything you want.  
You go ahead.  I'll fix a Jeep for you Forty minutes later, Sheila 
had selected the clothes she would need.  Using a changing room, she 
put on a red and yellow cotton shirt, slid into tightfitting jeans and 
put on heavy calf-high boots.  Carrying her dress, picking up the 
bundle of clothes she had chosen, she went to the co nL@,r where 
Calhoun was drawing a map on a sheet of per.

     'All fixed, Mrs Weston?' L@p

     'Yes, thank you.  You have a wonderful selection.' 'Well, now, 
m'am, I've got the Jeep fixed for you.  it'!l be around in ten minutes. 
 Here's a map to tell you ho"7 t'o get to the lodge.' Fie pushed the 
sheet of paper towai,('4s her - 'You leave here, turn left onto the 
highway and d ri @7c around twenty miles.
     That'll be no problem.  You'll car-".  to a sign-post marked 
"River" on your left.  Turn h Now, here's where you will have 
problems.  Take it There'll be lots of mud and water, and I guess the 
will get you through so long as you drive real slow.  You'll have 
around two miles of this road, then you'll come to the river.  Follow 
the road by the river and you will come to Mr Weston's lodge.  Just 
remember to let the Jeep take you and don't force it.' 'Thank you, Mr 
Calhoun, you couldn't be more helpful.' 'Glad to oblige a determined 
young lady.  Here are the papers for the Jeep.
     just needs your signature.  It's for a week-'s rental.  Okay7' 
Sheila signed the papers, then made out a cheque for her- purchases.
     " "lay I ask you to give Mr Weston my compliments, N/irs Weston7' 
Calhoun asked.  'Please tell him I hope to ll;m soon.' '(:)f course.' 
She held out her hand.  'Again many i 'In@ S.' ant me to put your 
purchases in a suitcase for you?  You can return the case with the 
Jeep.' 'That'd be fine.' By the time Calhoun had packed her clothes in 
a battered suitcase, the Jeep arrived.
     Carrying the suitcase, Calhoun followed Sheila from the store to 
the Jeep where a black youth got out of the driving-seat.
     'I'll check out,' Sheila said, land collect my other luggage.' 
'You do that, m'am,' Calhoun said, then turning to the black youth, he 
went on, 'Go, collect the lady's baggage, Joel.' As Sheila crossed the 
road, followed by the black youth, a taxi pulled up outside the motel.  
Gene Franklin came out of the motel, carrying a bulky briefcase.  He 
paused, seeing Sheila.  She felt his eyes go over her and saw his 
frown.
     'G ood-morning, Sheila,' he said.  'In spite of my advice, see you 
are going.' ',;@ie stared at him, her pretty face hard.
     '(-'orrect.  I am still behaving like a selfish, spoilt brat,

      Mr Toady,' and she walked by him into the lobby of the motel.

     Franklin hesitated, then, shrugging, got into the taxi and was 
driven away.
     While the black youth carried her suitcase and variitybox to the 
jeep, Sheila ettled the motel check.  Recrossing the street, she 
found Calhoun had put her luggage in the Jeep and was standing, 
waiting, 'Ma'm,' he said, 'this boy knows all the roads arol-md here.  
He'll gladly drive you.' Sheila smiled.
     'Thank you, no.  I'll be fine.' She shook hands.  'I'll tell my 
husband how very helpful you have been.' She climbed into the Jeep and 
started the engine.
     'Just take it slow, m'am,' Calhoun said.  'It's been a pleasure to 
help you.' Sheila gave him a wide, flashing smile and, with a wave of 
her hand, headed towards the highway.
     Perry Weston came slowly awake and became aware that hot sunshine 
was streaming through the bedroom win.  dows.  He looked at his strap 
watch.
     The time was 08-30.  Feeling hot and sticky, he got off the bed.  
He went to the door and found he was still locked in.
     He stood still, listening, but heard no sounds of movement below.
     Going to the open window, he looked out onto the river, lit by the 
sun.  He saw the road by the lodge was water-logged with thick, wet 
mud.  Well, at least the rain had stopped and the sun was out.
     Taking his time, he shaved, showered and dressed.  He longed for 
coffee.  If Jim Brown wasn 't in control of this bizarre situation, he 
would get out his fishing tackle and spend the rest of the day by the 
river, but Jim Brown was in control.
     Perry sat down, lit a cigarette and waited.
     It wasn't until 10-00 by Perry's stra p watch that lie heard 
movements.
     Going to the door, he listened and heard Brown's tuneless 
whistling.  Ten minutes later, he heard the key turn in the lock, and 
Brown entered.
     Perry noted Brown was now wearing one of his long-sleeved shirts, 
hiding the tattooed snake on his arm.  Brown looked relaxed as he gave 
Perry a mirthless grin.
     'I've been catching up on sleep, Perry,' he said.  'You want 
breakfast?  It's all ready.' While he was speaking, Brown's eyes were 
looking around the room, then he moved forward to the bedside table and 
picked up a big, silver-framed photograph of Sheila.
     Perry watched as Brown studied the photograph, giving a nod of 
approval.
     He put the frame back on the table.
     'Your girlfriend?' he asked.
     'My wife,' Perry said curtly.
     'Is that right?  Nice.  Lucky guy.' Brown shook his head.  'Some 
guys are lucky.
     I never found a girl I'd want to marry.  You like married life7' 
Perry got to his feet.
     'I'd like a cup of coffee.' He left the room and walked down the 
stairs to the living-room.  He found the table laid.  He sat down and 
poured himself a cup of coffee while Brown went into the kitchen.  He 
returned in a moment, carrying two plates of thick, grilled ham.
     'T' is freezer of yours, Perry, is sure something,' he said [I as 
he set one of the plates in front of Perry.  He sat down.  'It's 
something to have money.  I guess you have a pretty good setup in New 
York too.' Perry began to eat.  This man certainly could cook.  The ham 
was done to a turn.
     'It's okay.  I live in Long Island.' 'Nice.' Brown was shovelling 
food into his mouth.  'Money can give you anything.' 'If you have 
enough of it.  It depends what you want.' 'I'd like a wife like you've 
got,' Brown said.  'I've kicked around on my own in this fucking world 
too long.  When I want a woman, I have to pick up some whore.  I've 
never had a home, except the hole my father lived in.  That was for the 
birds!' 'How long do you plan to stay here, Jim?' Perry asked.
      'When the heat cools, I'll get moving.  I've listeri(,d to the 
radio.
     The cops are still in an uproar.' Brown grinred.  'They won't find 
me here, that's for sure.' He looked tip and stared at Perry.  'You're 
going to stake me.  I'll wa-it ten thousand.  Okay?' 'It has to be 
okay, doesn't it?' 'You can say that again.' Brown finished eatin ai, 
I back.  'Yeah.
     We'll have to see how we fix it.' 'Where will you go, Jim?' Brown 
shrugged.
     'I'm good at fading out of sight.  You don't ha@,,: worry about 
me.  All you have to do is to worry in)al,[f yourself.' 'Fading out of 
sight7'Perry said.  'For how long7 I Jim, face facts.
     Wouldn't it be sensible to give yo@@,ii, up?  You can't go on 
running.  Sooner or later, ti ri y catch up with you.  Even in prison, 
you're alive.' 'You're talking like a goddamn priest.' There v,@ snarl 
in Brown's voice.  'Give myself up?  Be locked @ @ for the rest of my 
life?  That's not for me I'm not scar(@i death.  No one is taking me 
alive.' His expression 1

     vicious.  'And I'll take as many cop bastards with m(l@ is i 
can.'

     Perry was about to say something when the souill.1 11 the 
telephone bell startled him.
     'Oh, yeah,' Brown said.  'I forgot to tell you.  I've the 
telephone.  I'm a great little fixer.  You answer, ;@Tlv Perry, watch 
it.' He stared at Perry.  'I' m getting tc@ I'l, you, buster, so don't 
get tricky.' Perry crossed to the telephone.  He lifted the receillci 
'Who is this?' he asked.
     'This is Mrs Grady, Rockville post office,' a worried said.  'I 
heard your telephone was out of order.' 'That's right.  It's okay now.  
I guess it was the rar@.  working fine.'

     'I was going to send Josh as soon as the road had (I" Cli 
out.'

     'No need, Mrs Grady.  Thanks for calling.' 'You're welcome, Mr 
Weston.' Perry hung up.
     'Checking the telephone.' 'I thought of that,' Brown said.  
'Didi't want some guy comin .  g here.  just be careful, Perry.  
Don't try using the phone.  Right7' 'if i,"s okay with you,' Perry 
said, 'I'd like to start I came here to write a movie.  What are you to 
do7' ahead.  Don't worry about me.  I like this room.  I'll TV.  Know 
something, Perry?  I feel real at home in oint.  I'll get lunch.  There 
are a couple of juicy- !,@(-king pork chops in the freezer.  Like that 
with French i ;e"l?l @ii ie,' Perry said and leaving the room, he 
walked the short passage to his study.  He sat at his desk @ooked out 
of the window at the sun and the trees.
     @auld have liked to be out with his fishing-rod.  He@d back in 
his chair and gave free rein to his imagina After half an hour of 
concentrated thought, he took @,o(,@@ his desk a block of paper and 
began to sketch out i irst moves of the plot that just could please 
Silas S Ic became so absorbed in his work, he lost count of it was only 
when the door opened and Brown L-d in that Perry was thrown back to 
reality.  '('huck's up,' Brown said.  'Come and get it.' l@@,rry looked 
at his strap watch.  The time was 1-3.00.  il@, @@,of to his feet and 
reluctantly left his desk, following into the living-room.
     thick pork chop with a heap of French fried awaited 'of no 
onions,' Brown said, sitting opposite Perry.  'i@@ onions with pork 
chops.' He grinned mirthlessly.  "!I' t have everything.  My old man 
liked onions.
     I used c)ok him fried onions and potatoes.  He liked that.  
towards his end, wasn't all that good for him.  He Ill(.  rotten 
teeth.' 1 Slurry cut into his chop, thinking everything this man 1;@ 
Ill was now background for his plot.
      'You were fond of your pa, weren't you, Jim7' 'Well, I guess.  
Know something?  It's good to be fond of someone.  He wasn't all that 
hot.  Sometimes, I didn't think he liked me.  There were times when he 
used to give me sly looks.  I know looks.  Okay, I was fond of him.  It 
didn't matter how he felt about me.  I had no one else, so I was fond 
of him.  When I found him dead, something in my life went away.' He 
chewed, nodded.  'Damn fine meat.' 'How about your ma, jim7' Brown 
scowled.
     'Don't talk about her.  No good.  You fond of your wife7' 'Of 
course.' Brown nodded.
     'I guess.  Nice-looking girl.' He looked up.  'A bit yc)tir,@ 
for you,' isn't she7' This ape of a man had touched a sensitive nerve.  
Pci@,-@ winced.
     'That's not your business, is it?' he said curtly.
     Brown gave a sneering little grin.
     'I guess that's right.' He eased back his chair.  'Y(.)Il working 
on a movie?' 'That's why I'm here.' 'How do you write a movie?' Perry 
shrugged.
     'If you want to know, you first get an idea.  Arte@ you're sure 
the idea is sound, then you think of people t( carry out the idea.  
Once you've created interesting people and the idea, the movie will 
more or less write itself.' 'Is that right?  Sounds easy.  The money's 
good, huh?, 'Nothing in this world is ever easy if it is to pay off, 
Jim.' Brown studied him.
     'You got characters?' 'I've just an idea.' 'What's the idea?' 
'That's not your business either, is it7' 'I bet one of the characters 
is me.' 'if you think so, then think so.' Perry stood up.  'A great 
meal.  I'll get back to my desk.' collected the Brown began to whistle 
tunelessly as he plates.  Back at his desk, Perry could still hear him 
whistling in the kitchen.
     @heriff Ross and Hank Hollis got out of the patrol car just before 
the turning down to the river.  Silently, Ross handed the rifle to 
Hollis who slung it on his shoulder.  He took the plastic sack of food 
and the radio transmitter.  The two men looked at each other.
     'Take no risks, Hank,' Ross said uneasily.  'I wish I were (:oming 
with you.' Hollis grinned.
     'Take it easy, Sheriff.  I'll be in touch.' 'I'll never forgive 
myself if something happens to you,' Ross said.  'This is my 
speciality.  Cheer up!' Hollis grinned again.
     I'll get off.  Don't worry about me.' T lie two men shook hands, 
then Hollis moved onto the t@I)rest road.  He waited until he heard the 
patrol car start up and drive away, then he began a slow, cautious 
walk, k.-@eping to one side of the road.  He unslung his rifle, 
in@ched the plastic sack and the radio on his left shoulder @l'ici 
continued to move forward.
     Once in the dense forest, he moved much more cau@@",!.Sly@ He felt 
relaxed.
     This hunt after a vicious killer i!@ his mind back to the jungles 
of Vietnam.  How often he done this?  Countless timesl He had always 
come out alive, and a sniper dead.  Okay, Chet Logan, you @von't know 
what's going to hit you!
     The road was fast drying, but in places there were pools of muddy 
water.
     Hollis skirted these, pressing against the wet shrubs.  It took 
him over an hour to come within sight of the river.  To his right, now 
no more than a couple of hundred yards away, was Perry Weston's fishhe 
warned himself, he must take the ing-lodge.  Here, k into the thickest 
part of greatest caution.  He moved bac the forest, using every bit of 
cover, moving so silently 119
     even the birds in the tree tops were not alarmed.  Again, lie 
moved forward, pushing shrubs gently aside, feeling thick mud on his 
boots.  It was steamy hot and sweat ran down his face.  His shirt and 
khaki slacks were wet from the soaking shrubs.  Discomfort never 
bothered him.  Once a jungle fighter, always a jungle fighter, his 
Captain had said to him.  Damn right!
     Another few yards, then parting the branches of a tree, Hollis 
found himself looking directly at the fishing-lodge.  He stopped short, 
crouched and regarded the lodge.
     There was no sign of life.  He noted the curtains of the front 
windows were drawn.  That didn't mean Logan wasn't somewhere either in 
the lodge or near the lodge, watching.
     Hollis looked up at the tree.  It seemed perfect for his purpose.  
Within reach were long foliage-covered branches.
     Taking his hunting-knife from his belt, he cleaned off the thick 
mud from his boots, then, slinging the rifle, lie caught hold of the 
lowest tree branch and began to climb.
     He climbed slowly and carefully, taking care not to make movement 
among the branches.  7I'o him, it was an easy climb.  He swung fiimself 
up and up, until he reached nearly to the top of the tree.  From this 
vantage-point, he could look down at the fishing-lodge and still remain 
hidden.
     Here, he paused.  Two thick branches made a comfortable-looking 
fork.  He nodded to himself, then settled, his legs astride a branch, 
his back against the thick trunk.  So far, so good, he thought.  I can 
stay up here for hours.
     He flung the plastic sack of food on a branch, lomd a safe 
place for his rifle, then set the radio transmitter between his legs.  
He surveyed the fishing-lodge.  Still no sign of life.  This could be a 
waste of time, but he didn't think so.  Why had the telephone cable 
been wrenched from its socket?  That was the clue.  That was the hint 
that Logan was hiding there with a gun on Weston.
     It was now a matter of patience, and Hall ' is had plenty of that.
     By now, Hollis thought, the Sheriff would be back in

     1 r

     his office.  He switched on the radio.  Keeping his lips close to 
the transmitter, he said, 'Hollis.  Are you hearing me?' 'Loud and 
clear, Hank,' Ross said.
     'I've found a good tree, Sheriff.  I can look right down at the 
lodge and can't be seen.  There's no sign of life, but the front-window 
curtains are drawn.  I guess I'll just have to wait.' 'You can get me 
whenever you want, Hank.  I'm not moving from my desk.  Keep in touch.' 
'Over and out.' Hollis switched off the radio.  He looked at his watch. 
 The time was just after noon.  Odd, he thought, Weston hasn't shown 
himself.  One would have thought he would have come out.  Maybe he had 
slept late and was now having a brunch, or maybe Logan was there and 
wouldn't let him out.  Hollis decided to sample some of Mary Ross's 
sandwiches.  He opened the plastic sack and found a big pack of ham and 
beef sandwiches and a bottle of w I ater.
     He ate two sandwiches, always keeping his eyes on the lodge.  It 
would be good to have lit a cigarette, but that would be too dangerous.
     He re-hung the sack, settled his back against the treetrunk and 
relaxed to wait.
     This was like o'@d times, he thought.  He thought of the most 
stubborn and dangerous sniper who was nearly , but not quite, as good 
as himself, This little Viet had concealed himself in a tree.  From 
there, he had picked off two of Hollis's good friends.  Hollis had 
sworn to get hir@i.  He had located where the shot had come from.  In 
the hot, steamy darkness, he had climbed a tree within three hundred 
yards from the tree in which the sniper was concealed.  He had waited 
for eighteen tense, nervestretching hours.  That time, he had only two 
bars of soggy chocolate and his water-bottle, not like now with good 
sandwiches and half a chicken.  Hollis nodded.  It had been worth the 
wait.  The jungle had been silent.  Finally, the sniper showed himself. 
 He shinned down the tree, lowered his trousers and squatted.  Hollis 
had sent a bullet through his brain.  The most satisfactory thing he 
had ever done in his Army career.  And now he was up another tree, 
waiting to see if Chet Logan would appear.
     Patience!
     An hour crawled by.  Then Flollis became alert.  The grinding 
sound of a car engine in low gear approaching, made him peer forward.
     To his startled surprise, he saw a Jeep moving slowly along the 
sodden river road.  From his viewpoint, he couldn't see the driver.  He 
unslung his rifle, watching as the Jeep slid on the muddy road, then he 
saw the Jeep pull up outside the fishing-lodge.  He saw a blonde-haired 
girl, wearing a yellow-andred shirt and tight jeans, jump out of the 
Jeep and walk up to the door of the fishing-lodge.
     Oh, Hell!  he thought.  Here's a real complication!  Who is this 
girl7 What's she doing here7 He pushed aside some foliage so he could 
get a better view.
     She was knocking on the door.  In the silence of the forest, 
Hollis could hear the impatient rapping of her knuckles.
     He was now badly placed.  He had only a half sighting of the front 
door.  He saw it open.  There was a long pause.  Faintly he heard 
voices.  It seemed to him, although he couldn't hear what was being 
said, there might be some kind of argument.  Then he saw the girl push 
her way in and the front door slammed.
     He switched on his radio.
     'Sheriff?' 'I'm listening.' It was a relief to hear Ross's steady, 
deep voice.
     'There's a development here, Sheriff.  A young girl has just 
arrived in a Jeep and she is now in the lodge.  The Jeep belongs to Cab 
Calhoun, Jacksonville.  Will you check?' 'Back in five minutes,' Ross 
said and switched off.
     Hollis waited, staring down at the lodge.  There was no sign of 
activity.
     Maybe, he thought, I was wrong.  This killer isn't there.  Weston 
had been expecting this girl.  He could be sitting up in this tree with 
swarms of mosquitoes tormenting him for nothing.
     But Hollis had learned to be patient.  Still, letting the 
mosquitoes buzz around him, he watched and waited.
     Ten.  minutes crawled by, then his radio came alive.
     'flank7' Ross's voice.
     'I'm hearing you.' 'The girl is Perry Weston's wife.  She hired 
the Jeep and t)Id Cab she would be staying a week or so at the lodge. 
 Look, Hank, I think you can come back.
     You're wasting your time.  I am satisfied this killer did get away 
to Miami as jacklin said.  There's a massive hunt on for him.  Come on 
back.' 'With respect, Sheriff, I'm not coming back yet.  How do we know 
Lovan isn't there?  Okay, Mrs Weston could be on a vis-t.  She could be 
walking into trouble.  I'm staying and watching.  How does anyone know 
that Logan is out of our district7 I'm going to wait.' 'Yeah.  Okay, 
Hank.  Keep watch.  I'll stay right here until you tell rie you're 
coming back.' 'Over and out,' Flol,lis said and switched off.
     When Sheila Weston turned off the Highway and began the descent to 
the river, she quickly realised that Cab Calhoun's warning she could 
have problems became a disagreeable fact.
     Once Sheila had made up her mind to do something, nothin-, no 
matter the difficulties, would deter tier.  She was e,.e.'termined to 
talk to her husband.
     When only ten years of age, she had driven her father's Jeep 
around his extensive ranch, i-nuch to tl-ie amusement and admiration of 
his cattle hands.
     She had heard one of the men say to another, "rhat's a real 
hellion.' She had smiled with pride, as she was now smiling to herself, 
remembering those words.
     So, okay, she was then a real hellion, and a hellion she would 
remain.
     Skilfully, she manoeuvred the Jeep through the pools, the mud and 
the slime.
     She felt the steamy heat pressing down on her.  She had taken the 
precaution to smear her face and hands with anti-mosquito cream so the 
buzzing swarm didn't bothet- her.
     Eventually, she reached the big quagmire that had bogged down the 
Toyota.
     Seeing it, she stopped her crawl forward and stared at the mess of 
water and tl-tick mud.  Would the Jeep cope?  If she got bogged down, 
she would be in real trouble.  She got out of the Jeep and walked to 
the edge of the quagmire.  She examined the ground.  Either side of 
this swamp was firm ground.  She nodded to herself.  Retirning to the 
Jeep, she engaged the four-wheel drive, edged the Jeep forward so the 
off-side wheels got a grip on the firm ground and moved forward, 
patiently taking her time.
     The onside wheels sank into the quagmire, but the offside wheels 
took hold.
     Holding her breath, feeling sweat running down her face and back, 
she slightly accelerated.  She had to use all her strength to keep the 
Jeep from sliding.  She could hear mud and water churning under her, 
then, with a jerk, the Jeep came through and she was clear.
     While Sheila was continuing the drive down to the fishing-lodge, 
finding the road much easier now to car)e with, the telephone bell rang 
on Grace Adams's desk.
     With a work-load spread out on her desk, she snatched up the 
receiver with an impatient exclamation.
     'What is it7' 'Mr Gene Fl,ankl-n is calling, Miss Adams,' her 
secretary said.  'Okay to put him through7' 'Go ahead.' There was a 
click, and Franklin came on the line.
     'Hello there, Grace,'he said.  'I guess S. S. H. has left '-)y 
now.
     'He's in Hollywood.  What is it7' 'Bad news, I'm afraid.' 'That's 
something I could -well do without,' 'Yes.  Perry's: wife is joining 
him at the fishing-lodge.' 'God almighty!'Grace exploded.  'How do you 
know?' 'It was the merest chance.  I flew down to Jacksonville 
yesterday to get Perry to sign the contract and I ran into Sheila.
     She told me she intended to surprise Perry and spend a couple of 
weeks with him.
     I knew that this was the last thing S. S. H. would want.  It was 
pouring with r-@iin, so I arranged to put her up at my motel, gave her 
(liriner, and for a nickel she would have jumped into bed ,.ith me.  
It looked fine until I began to sell her the idea he'd be wiser to 
leave Perry alone and go home, then she ;I iined ugly, Nothing short 
of knocking her on the head iin ' kidnapping her would have worked.  No 
one, repeat t I o f N ne, including S. S. H can handle this obstinate 
little i-)itch.' , S,-,) you're telling me she's with him7' 'She must 
be.  The road conditions are bad.  She rented a Jeep and left about 
half an hour ago.  With luck, she could get bogged down, but it's my 
bet she will get to Perry.' Grace Adams drew in a long, exasperated 
breath.
     'You know what this means7 There'll be no moviel With her 
bothering Perry, he won't do any work.' 'Why did the goddamn sucker 
marry that little bitch7' 'We won't go into that.
     I'll contact S. S. H. He'll love i@t' and she slammed down the 
receiver.
     I ep-ling triumphant, Sheila steered the Jeep along the narrow, 
mud-soaked road, driving slowly and carefully.  Another ten-minutes' 
driving brought her in sight of the river.  She smiled to herself.  A 
hellion?  Again she smiled.
     Obstacles were made to surmount!  She nodded.  How I-ig ht!  Then 
she saw the fishing-lodge.  She recognised it from Perry's description.
     Here I am, she thought, then unaware that she was being watched by 
Hollis perched in the tree, she steered the Jeep to the front door and 
cut the engine.
     She sat for a long moment, looking at the lodge.  Well, she 
thought, it is certainly primitive.  It flashed through her mind 
whether she would be able to put up with living there for a couple of 
weeks.  It would be utterly dull, utterly isolated.  If she could not 
stand it, she told herself, she could drive to Miami where the bright 
lights always beckoned.  But right at this moment she felt the need to 
have Perry's arms around her, to sit with him and talk about herself.
     He was the only one who would listen.  All her women friends only 
half listened, waiting for a chance to jump in and tell her their 
troubles.  Her men friends never listened.  They nodded, smiled with 
sympathy and waited for the chance to tell her what great puys they 
were.  But not Perry.  He always listened and undci-stood.
     She jumped out of the Jeep and ran to the front door of the lodge. 
 There was a heavy iron handle.  What a surprise for Perry!  she 
thought.  She would take him to bed the moment she had had a bath.  
Then, lying in his arms, she would tell him about this bastard Hart and 
the private eye.  She would even tell him about that awful Lucan.
     She turned the door handle to find the door locked.  She now saw 
the curtains were drawn at the three big windows.
     Was Perry there7 she wondered.  Godi What a flop if she had come 
all this way and he wasn't therel She rapped on the door.  Waited, then 
rapped again.
     She heard the lock click back and her face lit up.
     Perry!
     The door opened.
     The man she longed to talk to, the only man who understood and was 
kind to her stood before her.
     The expression on his white drawn face sent a chill through her.
     'Oh, God, nol' he exclaimed.  'Oh, Sheilal What are you doing 
here7' His expression was something right out of a horror movie.  It 
was all there: fear, terrible tension and despair.
     'Perry, darling I' She rushed to him and threw her arms around 
him, hugging him.  'I know I shouldn't have come, but I needed you so 
much.  Darling, tell me you are glad to see mel' As she clung to him, 
over his shoulder, feeling his body trembling, she saw Jim Brown, 
standing just behind her husband, an evil smile on his face and a gun 
in his hand.
     Perry felt fingers, like steel claws, clamp on his shoulders.  
With a violence he didn't think possible, he felt himself thrown aside. 
 He thudded against the wall of the lobby.  Sheila, still clinging to 
him, went with him.  Together, they slid to the floor.
     Jim Brown kicked the front door shut and pushed the bolts home.  
He moved away, his gun now back in its holster, and watched Perry and 
Sheila disentangle them-selves and shakily stand up.
     'What the hell is this7' Sheila shrilled.  'Who's this jerk?
     What's happening?' More slowly, despair in his heart, Perry 
straightened up.  He looked helplessly at Sheila, seeing her enraged 
expression, and he said quickly, 'Careful, darling.  This man is 
dangerous.' 'You said it, buster,' Brown snarled.  'Now, this is your 
wife ... right7 She's stuck her pretty nose where it isn't wanted.  . . 
right7 So no tricks, buster.' He grinned evilly.  'You two could share 
a double funeral.' With an effort, Perry composed himself 'Okay, Jim.  
There'll be no tricks.' Brown nodded.
     'That's what I like about you, Perry.  You're a guy I can deal 
with.  Right.
     Take your wife in there and spell it out to her.  I've things to 
do in the kitchen.
     You've got kingsized prawns.  l@m good with them.  We'll all have 
them for supper.' 'What is this?' Sheila screamed.  'Who is this man?
     What's going on?' Perry gently took her arm.
     'Let's go in and sit down, Sheila.' want to be alone with you!  
Get rid of himl' Brown gave a barking laagh.
     'She's real dumb, isn't she?  Get her in there or I'll kick her 
in!' The snarl in his voice scared Sheila.  With a long look at him, 
she let Perry lead her into the big living-room.  1-1 by her side on 
the settee.
     Brown appeared in the door-way.
     'No tricks, Perry.' 'No.' Brown nodded, then moved into the 
kitchen and (;fit c@@ sight.
     'Perryl What is this7' He put his hand on hers.
     'Don't talk.  Just listen.  I am a hostage.  Now you, cl b .  v 
ing here, are also a hostage.  This man is being hunt( the police.  He 
killed six people two nights ago.  He i@ dangerous and as vicious as a 
cobra.' @ I

     'Six people7' Sheila stared at him, her eyes round.

     'Yes.  Now, darling, please listen.  He must be some kin I of 
psychopath.
     The only way we can handle him is to relaxed and nice to him.  
When I say nice, I mean don't so anything that could antagonise him.  
Do you understa!id 11 'Do you really mean ... 7' 'Sheilal Be adult!' 
The snap in Perry's voice brou@,@i@, flush to her face.  'This is 
deadly serious.  This lunati(@ @!v i 1,@ kill us both if we provide him 
with the slightest excus(, - F(@ God's sakel Why did you come7' The 
steel in her asserted itself.  She stiffened, then look@-@ directly at 
him.
     'I came because I wanted to talk to you.  I became sicl< o@ myself 
and the way I have been acting.  I wanted to tell v@)@i so many 
things.' 'Okay.  There'll be time for that.  Right now, we ho tit have 
to go along with this man or we'll finish up den(i.' They both paused 
to listen to Brown's tuneless whistl(,

     'Don'tbabyme!'Sheilashrilled.'Getridofthismanlim Browncamein.

     Perry moved close to her.  He slid his arm around her shoulders as 
the door opened.
     You told her, Perry7' 'I've told her.' arne in and shut the Sheila 
was regarding this man as he c r his door.  What an apel she thought.  
Her eyes ran ave powerful body.  His face which scared her, she 
disregarded, but his bodyl In spite of being scared, a thought came 
into her mind what it would be like to get into bed i,,;th a brute 
like this.  She felt a tingle of sex run through tier.  @'he had never 
seen such a man.  Those square, broad shoulders, the slim waist, those 
terrifyingly powerful hands!
     'Okay,' Brown said.  He looked at Sheila.  'You take it easy, 
baby, and we'll all get along nice.  Right?' Sheila nodded.
     'You have a job to do, Perry,'Brown said.  'You're going ri ht now 
to your bank and you're getting ten thousand bLIcks in cash, and you 
will chat up the jerks in the a f i(i find out what the pressure is.  
Get it?' village Ilerry jumped to his feet.

     'No I I'm not leaving my wife alone with you I That I s for

     sLre!  I'm not goingl' Brown grinned.
     u'll go.  Take a look 'Yeah.  That's what you think, but yo ii@ 
this.' H(@ looked around the room, then walked over to an I table and 
picked up a big, heavy pewter ashoccasions tf.ay.  He balanced it in 
his hands, staring at Perry 'Watch, buster,' he said.
     Et f artlessly, as if the heavy ashtray was made of tin foil, @,e 
crumpled it, squeezed it and threw the ball of metal at 1jeri-v's feet.
     'Let me tell you something,'Brown said softly.  'A couple (,f 
years ago, I hired a hooker for the night.  She was vourig, but nothing 
like as pretty as your wife.
     She wanted ten bucks.  I had ten bucks,- so we went back to her 
pad and I gave her ten bucks.  Then a big black buck appeared and told 
me to get the hell out.  That was putting pressure on me.  I told you 
when people put pressure on me, I hit back.  That's natural, isn't it?  
So this big black buck put pressure on me and I hit him.  I broke his 
goddamn neck.  The hooker began to scream so I fixed her.  I took her 
head in my hands and squeezed.' He paused to look at Sh(,ila.  'You'd 
better listen, baby, Okay, I squeezed.  Know o)Qt happened?  Her 
brains came out of her ears.  I/Vh(,!  squeeze, I squeeze good.' Sheila 
shuddered, staring up at Perry who had r white.
     'That's it, buster,'Brown snarled.  'From now on vat ,Ic) exactly 
what I say otherwise I'm going to take yout,- ha s head in my hands and 
I'm going to squeeze her f@)ce some rotten orange.  Okay?' 'Perryl' 
Sheila, now terrified, shrilled, 'Do wF@it @@e saysl' Perry looked 
around for a weapon.  With the cou r@i g: despair, with the normal 
instinct of a man who mti@;t tect his mate, he grabbed up a 
pathetically fragil(vase and threw himself at Brown.
     Grinning, Brown avoided his clumsy rush and (--Lil @ -d him with 
his open hand.  The cuff sent Perry reeling.  Dr(@pping the vase, which 
smashed to pieces, he lost his bala rice and landed on the settee.
     'Nice try, buster.  Next time I'll use my fist,' Brown s@i Id.  
'Then you'll know what it is to be hit.  You going or am I going to 
break your neck and squash your babe's fac(,?' Sheila gave a soft 
scream, then put her hands to her mouth.  Perry shook his head.  The 
slap had stunned him.  He knew it was just a slap, but the force of it 
horrified him.  He remembered this ape of a man lifting the car clear 
of lie quagmire.  This brutal, ape-like strength was beyond 
imagination.
     'Now, listen, Perry,' Brown said.  'You're scar,:,(" going to 
screw your wife as soon as you go.' He n,-),I@, 'That's something I can 
understand.  You go.  I'm not going to touch her.  We'll sit here and 
wait for you to come back with the money.  Play straight with Ine, and 
I'll play straight with you.  Get the money, find out what the pressure 
is, and you don't need to worry about your wife.  That's a promise.  
Okay?' 'You'll leave her alone?  You won't touch her?'Perry said 
getting unsteadily to his feet.
     'So long as she sits still, doesn't make trouble, I don't touch 
her, but if she gets tricky she'll get a slap.' Brown gri@-ined.  'Fair 
enough7' Listening, Sheila felt a powerful sexual urge sweep through 
her.  Looking at this man, she imagined him takin her.  She imagined 
him entering her.  She imagined gripping those terrifyingly muscular 
shoulders.
     I Sheila, darling, I'll have to go,' Perry said.  if Jim tells me 
he won't touch you, I'm prepared to trust him.  Now, for God's sake, do 
just what he says ...
     please.' Sheila forced a smile.
     'I will.  Before you go, I would like my baggage.  Would you get 
the two bags7' Looking at her, Perry felt a qualm.  She had now 
completely relaxed.  Her eyes had lit up.  She was once more the 
SI,-ila he had had to cope with since they had married.  @et her bags, 
Perry,' Brown said.
     Hollis, in his tree-top, watched Perry come out into the steamy 
hot sunshine.  He watched Perry take two suitcases from the Jeep, then 
return to the lodge.
     'Honey, please take them to our room,' Sheila called.
     Perry carried the bags up the stairs.  Brown sat down, staring 
thoughtfully at Sheila who was smiling.
     Perry came down the stairs and stood in the doorway of the 
living-room.
     'Okay,' Brown said.  'Get the money.  While you're down there, get 
some onions and eggs.  Fill the Jeep with gas.  When I shove off, I'll 
use the Jeep.  Okay?' 'Yes.' Perry looked at Sheila.  'Darling, it'll 
take a couple of hours.  Please remember what I've said.' 'Of course.' 
She smiled.  'I'm not scared.  If Jim says he won't touch me, why 
should I be scared7' Perry hesitated, then nodded and went out to the 
Jeep.
     Hollis watched Perry get into the Jeep, turn it and head towards 
the river road, leading to the highway.  He switched on his radio.
     'Sheriff?' 'Hearing you.' 'A new development.  Weston has just 
gone Dff in the Jeep, heading for Rockville.  The road's still bad, but 
in the Jeep he'll get there.  His wife is in the lodge.  What do you 
make of it7l 'Could be okay.  I don't know.  I'll be on Ihe look out 
for him when he arrives.' 'I don't think it's okay.  I still think 
Logan is now holding a gun on Mrs Weston.
     I'm sticking.  Keep in touch,' and Hollis switched off.
     As soon as Sheila heard the Jeep start up and drive away, she 
smiled at Brown.
     'I guess I have to ask your permission, Jim,' she said.  'I would 
like to unpack and take a bath.' Brown studied her, then nodded.
     'Go ahead, but no tricks, baby.  Right7' 'Will you cut out calling 
me baby?' Sheila said, getting to her feet.  'My name is Sheila.' 'Go 
take a bath, baby,' Brown said.  'Just no tricks.' Sheila left the 
living-room and climbed the stairs to the double bedroom.  She stripped 
off, ran a bath, then sank into the warm water.
     What an ape of a mont she thought, feeling an uncontrollable sex 
urge run through her.  So he won't touch me( She released a soft laugh. 
 It would be fun to seduce him.  Marvellous to lie beneath him.  All 
the other men, including Lucan, didn't compare with this brute, She had 
two hoursf She remained only for a few minutes in the bath, then she 
dried herself and went to the big mirror and fixed her hair.  She then 
went into the bedroom, naked, and unlocked her suitcase.  She found a 
flimsy, transparent wrap which she put on.  She closed and relocked the 
suitcase.
     She found her heart was thumping and she was breathing fast.
     Now, she thought, the big seduction scenel She giggled, feeling 
lust move through her.  She went to the door and called, 'Jim!  I can't 
get my suitcase open.
     Come up, please, and fix it for me.' She moved to the big bed and 
waited.  She had her back to the sunlit window and knew the light was 
shining through her flimsy wrap.  No man, she told herself, could 
resist this temptation, let alone an ape like Brown.
     Brown appeared in the doorway, his blunt features expressionless.
     Sorry to bother you, Jim.  I'm an idiot with locks,' Sheila said, 
giving her most seductive smile.
     still remain Is that right?' Brown said, ing in the doorway.  She 
was a ware he was eyeing her near-naked body.
     She felt moisture gathering in her loins.
     As he still remained motionless, she said impatiently, her voice a 
little shrill, 'We haven't much time .  Don't just stand there!' She 
opened her wrap so he could see her body.  'Come to me!' 't you hear I 
You deaf or something7'Brown said.'Didn told Perry if he played 
straight with me, I'd play straight with him7 Are you a goddamn dope7 
Now, I'll tell you something.  To me, you are no better than the worst 
hooker I've ever screwed.  You are, to me, like the mess a dog leaves 
on the sidewalk.  Even if I hadn't told Perry I wouldn't touch you, I 
wouldn't now touch you I' Turning, he moved to the head of the stairs, 
slamming the door behind him.

     Perry Weston drove down Rockville's main street an

     pulled up outside the bank.  The time was now 15-00 iple on the 
street .  Most of the citizen There were few pea.
     had done their shopping, and he was thankful that aril the old 
were sitting in the shade of the trees, dozing o boring each other with 
small talk.  rted except for a He entered the bank which was dese 
elderly woman, seated behind the counter, making entr he looked up, 
stared, then smiled.
     in a ledger.  S 'It's Mr Weston, isn't it7'

      'That's right, Mr Allsop around7'

     'Why, Of course.' She slid her bulk off the stool, I,lj get him, 
Mr Wesion.' Fred Allso , the manager of the bank, a small, thi?i p man 
in his late fifties, came bustling out of his office, 'Why, Mr Westonl 
What a pleasurer'ffe shook hands 'You are here for a vacation?' Perry 
was continually thinking of Sheila.  Coul(,@ trust this ape of a man?  
fie -must get back as quickly j, could.

     'Well, no.  I'm on a trip, Mr Allsop.  I need money.  11 m in a 
hurry.'

     'Mr Weston, we are here for service.  We haven't seen You for a 
long time.  What can I do?' 'I want ten thousand dollars in 
one-hundred-dollar bills.' Allsop blinked.
     'Well, You haven't that amount in Your account, Mr Weston.  That's 
quite a sum.' With an effort, Perry controlled his impatience.
     'I need the money, Mr Allsopl'he said, his'voice sharp.
     'If You want, call my New York bank.  I'm in a hurrvi' Startled by 
the bark in Perry's voice, Allsop said @ur-ried]Y, 'I'll arrange it, Mr 
Weston.  Ten thousand in onehundred-dollar bills?, 'That's what I saidi 
I have some shopping to do.  I')) be back in a quarter of an hour.  
Okay?' "Yes, Mr Weston.' These small-time bankers!  Perry thought as he 
left the bank and crossed over to the self-service store.  As he 
entered, Sheifi Ross moved across the street from his office and walked 
into the bank.
     'Fred,'he said.  'What did Mr Weston want?' Allsop hesitated.
     , Well, Jeff, maybe it's not Your business, but if you want to 
know, he's asking for ten thousand dol)or's in one-hundred-dollar 
bills.'

     'Can you sta]17'

     'I told him I'd fix it.  He was most insistent.
     What's going on7' 'Never mind, Fred.  Give him the money,' and le 
Allsop staring in bewilderment, Ross, worried, m across the street and 
leaned against the wooden rail side the self-service store.
     Perry bought a dozen eggs, two lettuces and a s ick of onions.  As 
he came out into the steamy suns if if saw Ross.  His heart skipped a 
beat as Ross ca m with an outstretched hand.
     Shopping, huh?' Ross said.  'Nice to see you aro Mr Weston.' Perry 
shook an s.
     'Yeah.  It's great to be back.  Nice to see you a Then remembering 
Brown's orders to find out who pressure was, containing his impatience 
to return t fishing-lodge, he went on, 'Got a little business wit bank. 
 Suppose we have a beer together, Jeff?' 'Sure.  I'll be over at Tom's 
bar,' Ross said, and ding, he started down the street.
     Perry put his purchases in the Jeep and then entere bank.
     'All ready for you, Mr Weston,'Allsop said.  'Just here.' Perry 
signed the form and picked up the envelope.
     'Many thanks.  Your service is terrific.' He s hands, then, 
leaving the bank, he locked the e'nv away in the Jeep, then walked down 
the street to T bar.
     This was a bar which tie had frequented a numb mes when he had 
first moved into the fishing-lodge ti fat, jovial-looking harman beamed 
at him as he ent 'Mr Weston!  My pleasure!' 'Nice to see you again, 
Tom,' Perry said and hands.  He looked around.
     There were only a few sitting at tables at this hour, but all 
recognised him.
     touched their hats, nodding a welcome.  Perry saw S  'Two beers, 
Tom,' Perry said and crossed the room, forcing a smile for each man who 
was giving him a welcome.  He sat by Ross's side.
     Ross eyed him, He could see Perry was tense.
     'I can't stay long,' Perry said as Tom brought the beers.  'I have 
my wife with me.  I don't want to leave her too long alone.' 'I 
guess.'Ross sipped his beer.  'All okay at the lodge?' 'No problems.' 
Perry stared at the beer in his glass No problems?  What an 
understatement!
     'Mary was wondering if you need her, Mr Weston,' Ross said.  'As 
soon as the road dries out, she could come down and clean up for you.' 
'No, thanks.  My wife can handle it.  Give Mary my love.' 'Sure will.' 
Ross nodded.  'You writing a movie7' 'Yep.' Perry forced himself to 
sound casual.  'This killer.  He gave me an idea.  Any news of him?  
Has he been caught?' 'No.  There's a big man-hunt on for him.' Ross 
leaned back in his chair.  'The police believe he is now somewhere in 
Miami.' 'Do you think he'll get away7' 'He'll give us a run for our 
money, Mr Weston, but sooner or later, we'll catch up with him.' 'I 
guess so.' Perry sipped his beer.  He desperately wanted to confide in 
this big, calm-looking man, but he knew that if there was police action 
he and now Sheila would be the first to die.  'I'm working on this 
idea, Jeff.  It was you coming to my place checking to see if this 
killer was hiding in one of the fishing-lodges that sparked me off.' 
'Is that right, Mr Weston7' Ross remained relaxed in expression, but 
mentally very alert.  'I guess that happens to men with your 
imagination.' 'When you and your deputy left, I thought what would 
happen if this man was hiding in my place.  From what you told me he is 
a nut-case and very dangerous.  I tried to imagine how I would react if 
he appeared with a gun.' Perry paused to sip his beer, then forced a 
laugh.  began to intrigue me.' 'Sure.  I see that.  What did you 
imagine, Mr Weston Perry hesitated.  Was he talking too much?  He kn 
Ross was no fool, but what he had said so far must acceptable without 
causing Ross to call out the Nation Guard.
     'Quite a situation for a movie,' he said, lighting a cig rette.  
'But I saw it would be static.  You know?  A crimin and a writer holed 
up in a lonely fishinglodge.  So far s good, but then what?  Then the 
writer's wife arrives.  didn't expect her.  Now the plot comes alive.  
This ma now has two hostages.  That's a big step forward.  I'm St 
working on the idea.' 'Sounds fine to me,' Ross said.  'Yeah.  I've 
seen all yo movies, Mr -Weston.
     This one could be the tops.' 'Glad you think so.' Perry finished 
his beer.  'The tric now is how to finish the movie.  You see these two 
a hostages.  If the police come to the rescue, the killer w kill them, 
then fight it out until he himself is killed.  I can allow this to 
happen.  This might not work out.' Ross was now convinced that Chet 
Logan was hidin in Weston's lodge, but he gave nothing away as he to 
finished his beer.
     'I could make a suggestion, Mr Weston.  Of course, I, not in your 
trade.  I'm thinking as a cop.' In spite of trying to be casual, Perry 
slightly stiffened and Ross, watching him, saw his reaction.
     'Any idea is better than none,' Perry said.  'What's t@ 
suggestion, Jeff?' Ross thought for a long moment, then said, 'The setu 
is your character has a homicidal killer in his lone] fishing-lodge7' 
How right!  Perry thought" but merely nodded.
     'Two cops arrive.  Your character knows if he givi them the nod, 
there'll be a shoot-out.  Right7' Again Perry nodded.
     'These two cops suspect what is happening.  They c, see your 
character is in danger so they leave as Hollis ai I left.  Now, suppose 
the younger cop happens to have served in the Marines as an 
anti-sniper.  Suppose be

     returns to the scene, climbs a tree, overlooking the lodge, and 
waits.'

     Perry drew in a long, slow breath.  He realised that Ross knew 
Brown was hiding in his lodge.  He thought of Hank Hollis- lean, tough, 
every inch an ex-marine.  Was he really already up a tree, watching?

     'Sounds good,' he said, aware his voice was husky.  'Then what?'

     'Well, here is a tricky situation, Mr Weston, but I guess

     with your know-how and for a movie, You could get around it.'

     'SO7, Now it was Ross's turn to hesitate, then, shrugging, he went 
on, 'This killer had murdered six people in one night.  If he is 
caught, he'll go away for thirty years which doesn't mean a damn.  He 
could be paroled after serving only eight or less years so he'd be 
loose again to kill more innocent people.  The cop up the tree would 
treat this killer as he treated murderous Viet snipers.  That's against 
the law, Mr Weston.  As cops, we must arrest this man for trial, but 
this COP isn't going to bother his head about that.  So he kills this 
man.' Perry stared down at his hands.
     'I don't think that would jell, Jeff.  It would put the police in 
a bad light.' 'Sure, but you could think up some solution.  Suppose 
this killer spots the cop and fires at him, then the cop is justified 
in killing him.' Perry felt a cold chill run through him.
     'I understand.' 'There's another trick You will have to think up, 
Mr Weston,' Ross said quietly.  'Your character and no one else can do 
it.  Your character has to find a pretext t Persuade the killer to show 
himself .  . 0 - to come out into the open so the cop in his tree can 
nail him.  It's got to be a certain shot.
     If the COP fires and misses, the killer will dive for cover and 
your character and his wife are as good as dead, so somehow you have to 
think up an for your character to entice the killer out into the o 
Perry thought of Brown.  Entice him out into the o What 
plausible-reason could he give Brown to per him to show himself7
     Watching him, Ross saw his look of despair.
     'Think about it, Mr Weston,' he said.  'There's no

     'Yes.' Perry abruptly stood UP -way.' 'I must be getting

     This has been a very helpful talk, Jeff.  Thanks.' Ross got to his 
feet and the two men shook h They stared at each other for a long 
moment, then walked across the road to the Jeep.
     Hank Hollis eased his position as he straddled the branch of the 
tree.
     A depressing thought struck him.  Fifteen years when he was 
twenty-five years of age, he had tho nothing of hiding in a tree in 
steamy heat, watchin waiting, but now, after five hours of waiting, he 
re he wasn't the man he once was.  His back was aching crotch was 
getting sore, The mosquitoes tormented All this he had laughed,off 
fifteen years ago.  He r bered once a snake coming along the branch whe 
was sitting.  He hadn't moved, He knew one move from him would alert 
the Viet sniper who was watching.  He had let the snake slide over his 
legs disappear into the foliage, He was damn sure he w have remained 
still now.
     Fifteen years was a long t Although he attended the rifle club 
twice a week, was reckoned to be the best shot there, he knea 
snap-shooting wasn't as sharp as it once was.  He to, at his watch.  
The time was 16.25.  In another three b it would be dusk, then quick 
darkness.  Then m Would Logan show himself?  Hollis decided he colu 
remain up the tree during the night.  As soon as it dark, he would 
climb down, move into the forest sleep.  Then, before dawn, he would 
climb the tret wait.
      Then he heard a soft bleep from his radio and switched it on.
     'Sheriff?, 'Yup.'Ross's voice was soft.  'I'm now damn sure that 
Logan is in the lodge.
     I've been talking to Weston.' Briefly, he described the 
conversation he had had with Perry.  'Weston is in a tight situation, 
Hank.  So long as Logan remains out of sight, there's nothing we can do 
for either Weston or his wife.  I could call out the National 'Guard 
and have the lodge surrounded, but that would mean Logan would murder 
the Westons.  Weston is smart.  He has ideas.  He could persuade Logan 
to show himself.  Then it's up to you.' Hollis wiped the sweat off his 
face.
     'I'm with you, Sheriff.' 'It looks as if Logan is going to make a 
break for it.  Weston drew ten thousand dollars from his bank.  Logan 
could take off when it's dark, but I'm sure he will kill both the 
Westons before he goes.  He wouldn't want them to raise the alarm that 
he is on the move.  This is a real mess, Hank.' 'Yeah.  Okay, I'll keep 
watch.' 'I guess I should come down there and relieve yo 'Not This is 
my problem.  Not yours.  u' Hollis heard Ross sigh.
     I'll handle it.'

     'How are you M

     aking out, Hank?  You've been up that tree for more than five 
hours.' Hollis hesitated, then decided he wasn't going to get Ross in a 
flap.  The last thing he wanted was this big, bulky man pushing his.
     alerting Logan.  way through the forest and 'I'm fine,'he said.  
'Don't worry about me, Sheriff.  This is my speciality, I'll keep in 
touch.  Tell Mrs Ross her sandwiches were great.' 'Okay.  Keep alert.  
Let me know when Weston gets back,' and Ross switched off.
     The next hour dragged by.  Hollis kept shifting his position.  He 
looked down at the glittering river and longed to take off his 
sweat-soaked clothes and take a swim.  To pass the time he ate some of 
the cold fried chicken.  He was thirsty and longed for a beer.  He also 
longed for a cigarette.
     'Show yourself, you bastardi he thought.  Come onl Show yourself I 
But there were no signs of life from the lodge.  Yes, he was right.  
Logan must be there, otherwise, on this hot evening, Weston's wife 
would have come out.  Hollis imagined her, terrified, cooped up with a 
thug like Logan.
     Then he heard the sounds of the jeep approaching.  He became very 
alert.  He saw the Jeep pull up outside the lodge and watched Perry get 
out.  Perry took from the hatch back a sack of shopping and he saw the 
front door open.  Perry entered and the door shut.
     Hollis switched on the radio.
     'Sheriff?' 'Listening.' 'Weston's back.  He's left the Jeep 
outside the entrance.' 'Okay.  Keep alert, Hank,' and Ross switched 
off.
     Brown, his face a hard, suspicious mask, had his gun in his hand.
     'Shut and bolt the door, Perry.  Put the sack down.  Now turn 
around.  No tricks!' Perry did as he was told and felt Brown's powerful 
hands run over his body.
     'Okay,' Brown said.  'Now I'll take a look at the sack.  I never 
take chances.
     If there'a a gun in it, you're deadf' With a swift movement, he 
upended the sack and surveyed its contents, then he grinned at Perry.
     'You're smart.  Onions, huh?  You 4ike onions?' 'Where's my wife?' 
Perry said.
     'No problem.  She's upstairs, unpacking.  I said- you play 
straight with me and I'll play straight with you.  Let's talk.' 
Holstering his gun, he walked into the living-room.  'What's the news?' 
Perry followed him and sat down.
     'I've got the money.  Ten thousand in one-hundreddollar bills.'  
'Manl Aren't you smart!' Brown said, leaning against the wall.  'What's 
the pressure like7' 'I talked to the Sheriff.  The search for you has 
shifted to Miami.  There is no pressure here.' Brown stared at him.
     'This straight7' , With an effort, Perry kept his face 
expressionless.
     'Straight.' 'Did you talk to the Deputy7' 'No.' 'Did you see him?, 
Here it is, Perry thought, sure that the lean, toughlooking Deputy was 
the man up in the tree, overlooking the lodge.  He took out a pack of 
cigarettes.
     'I saw him,' he lied.  'He was doing something to the patrol car.  
I didn't speak to him.' 'Straight?' There was a snap in Brown's voice.
     Perry lit the cigarette.
     'Straight.' 'The Sheriff is nothing, but that Deputy Brown rubbed 
his chin.
     'So, okay, the pressure's off.  Right7' 'Yes.' 'Where's the 
money?' 'In the jeep-, Brown's eyes narrowed.
     'Don't sit there!  Go, get it!  I want to see what ten thousand 
dollars in onehundred-dollar bills look like.' Perry had never ceased 
to marvel at the speed of thought.  In that split second, as he stared 
up at Brown, a thought flashed into his mind.  Suppose he told Brown to 
get the money himself?  Suppose Brown, anxious to lay his hands on the 
money, thoughtlessly went out to the Jeep?
     Find a pretext to get him out into the open.
     'Hear me?' Brown snarled.  'Go, get itl' No, Perry thought.  It 
would be far too dangerous to tell this man to get it himself.  Looking 
at Brown, seeing the suspicious gleam in his eyes, Perry decided Brown 
wouldn't go, and, what was more, he would begin to distrust him.  If he 
was to get Brown into the open, he would have to think of a much more 
subtle method.
     He got slowly to his feet, crushed out his cigarette, then walked 
to the door.
     'I'll get it.' Brown followed him to the front door, his gun now 
in his hand.  He drew the bolts.
     'No tricks, Perry,'he said.  'Hurry it upt' Hollis, in his tree, 
heard the bolts being drawn.  He snatched up his rifle, ready for 
action.  Then seeing Perry come hurriedly out of the lodge to the Jeep, 
he muttered a curse.
     Was Logan never koing to show himself?
     He watched Perry return to the lodge, a big, bulky envelope in his 
hand.  The money, of course, he thought.  Well, this could be the start 
of something.  But suppose Logan took off when it was dark?  He would 
have to stay alert from now on.  There would be no question of sleep.
     Cradling the rifle, he leant his aching back against the tree and 
waited.  Half an hour crept by.  At least the mosquitoes seemed bored 
with tormenting him, and it was turning cooler.  What he would give for 
a cigarettel Then something happened which he wished would never have 
happened.  He heard a rustle in the undergrowth that stiffened him to 
attention, his hands gripping the rifle.  Then a dog began to bark.
     He peered down, but the tree foliage was so thick he couldn't see 
the ground.
     He could hear the dog snarling and barking at the foot of the 
tree.  Then he heard a man call out, 'Found something up there, Jacko7 
Come onl You ain't no tree-climberl' With sweat running down his face, 
Hollis raised himself.  He could see a tall, thickset man, a 
fishing-rod in his hand, by the river.
     The dog continued to bark savagely.
     Hollis remained motionless.  What a goddamn giveaway, he thought.  
Logan must hear the dogl The man called again, a snap in his voice.  
'Jackal To heel!'  The dog abruptly stopped barking and joined the man 
on the river path.  The man bent and patted the dog, and the two moved 
on, passing the lodge.  For a moment, the man paused to stare at the 
parked Jeep, then went on, the dog obediently following him.
     As Perry returned to the lodge, Brown snatched the envelope from 
his hand and slammed and bolted the door.
     'Ten thousand dollars, huh?' Brown grinned at Perry.  'Mani You're 
smart!' He moved into the sitting-room.
     'I want to talk to my wife,' Perry said.  'You count the money .  
, Jim.  Just make sure I haven't cheated you.' Brown's steel-like 
fingers closed on his arm.
     'Plenty of time, Perry,'he said.  'You have a lifetime to talk to 
your wife.
     She's okay.  You played straight with me.  I told you I'd play 
straight with you.
     I want to talk to you Knowing resistance would be dangerous, 
Perry went with him into the living-room.  He watched as Brown spilled 
out the bills on the table.
     'Mani Money!' Brown muttered.  'The most beautiful sight in the 
world !'He pushed the bills around with a thick finger.  'I've never 
seen so much money.' He turned and grinned at Perry.  'You're smart, 
Perry.' 'I want to talk to my wife,' Perry said quietly.
     'Sure.  You said that before.' Brown began to gather Lip the 
bills, pushing them into the envelope.  'Okay, sit down.  I want to go 
over this again.' Containing his impatience, Perry sat down and lit a 
cigarette.  Brown sat opposite him, the envelope in his hand.
     'Go over what again?' Perry asked.
     'You saw that old fart of a Sheriff ... right7' 'I saw him.' 'And 
he told you the cops are now looking for me in Miami ... right?' 
'Yes.' 'He said the pressure was off ... right?' 'That's what he told 
me.' Brown stared directly at Perry, his vicious eyes probing.
     'You believed him?' d, aware his mouth 'I had no reason not to,' 
Perry sai . was turning dry- Brown nodded.  und Miami ... righti' 'The 
pressure's on aro ,So the Sheriff told me.' 'No pressure here, huh7' 
Perry thought of the cop up in the tree, watching the lodge.  He 
dragged on his cigarette and slowly released the srrioke 'That s what 
the Sheriff said.' 'You'd know, would@t you, Perry7' 'I only know what 
he told me.' 'He Wouldn't lie to you, would he, Perry7' Perry felt 
sweat trickling down his spine.  'We're good friends, Jim - There's no 
reason for him to lie to me.
     'Although we ain't good friends, Perry, you wouldn't lie to me 
either?' At this moment the telephone bell rang.
     Brown stiffened.  Automatically the gun jumped into his hand.
     'Answer it, but be careful.  No tricks.' Perry got to his feet and 
lifted the receiver 'is that Perry7' A ma@s voice

     'Yes.  Who is this7'

     ou.  Your

     'Gene Franklin.  I've been trying to contact y

     phone was out of order.  How are your' Perry drew in a deep 
breath.  Keeping his voice steady, he said, 'I'm fine,' He was aware of 
Brown pointing a gun at him.  'Long time no see.
     How are you7' 'Fine.  I'm at Jacksonville.  I've got a contract I 
want to talk to you about - Suppose I drive over or maybe you can come 
up here?' 'Sorry, Gene.  You ve interrupted.  l,m getting this script 
together.  I don't want to leave it.  The contract will have to wait.' 
it can wait, but S - S. H.
     'Sure, I understand.  Well, I guess wants it signed.'

      'He'll have to wait too.' There was a snap in Perry's voice.

     'I met your wife at Jacksonville.  She's with you, isr)'t she?'

     'Yes.'

     A pause, then Franklin said, 'S.  S. H. wouldn't app roy(-.  
She'll be a distraction.' If t'ms situation hadn't been so desperate, 
Perry woL)d have laughed.  Distraction7 How about a vicious killer 
sitting, pointing a gun at him7
     'I write scripts for Mr Hart, but neither he nor anyone else 
dictates my private life,' Perry said.  'See you Jot(@,-, Gene,' and he 
hung UP

     Brown returned the Run to its holster.

     'That's telling them, @erry,'he said and grinned.  'You're smart.' 
'You finished, Jim7 I want to talk to my wife.' 'Sure.  You seem to 
have your wife on your nut.  She's okay.  I want to tell you something. 
 When it's dark, I'in taking off,' Brown said.  'You'll like that, 
won't you?  I'll take the Jeep.  No cop has ever caught me, and no cop 
ever, will.
     I'll take off.' Perry passed his hand over his sweating face.
     'Can't say I'll be sorry, Jim,'he said, and forced a smil(,.  
'This has been an experience.'

     'I guess.' Brown leaned back in his chair.

     'One thinl, Perry.  Listen good.  I like you.  You're smart, and 
you'v;@ been straight with me.  Watch that wife of yours.  Man!  She 
needs watching.  Know her problem?  She has red-h(@t pants.  If she was 
my wife, I'd beat the hell out of he,.  I'm being straight with you.  
It's not my business, but I'iii telling you.'He rolled up his sleeve to 
reveal the cobra to, tooed on his arm.  'I'd trust her as I'd trust 
this snak(,.
     Okay?' As Perry began to protest, both men heard the loucl, savage 
barking of a dog.
     For more than an hour Sheila lay on the big double bed, Brown's 
words burning into her mind, over and over again: To me, you are no 
better than the worst hooker I've ever sc-ewed.  You are, to me, like 
the mess a dog makes on the sidewalk.
     At first, tears of humiliation ran down her face.  Then the shock 
of sexual frustration, then, finally, a cold rage .  Her body 
stiffened, her fists clenched.
     No man had ever dared to speak to her like thisl You ape I God I 
You stinking animal I She swung her legs off the bed and stood up.  The 
rage engulfing her left her breathless.  She hammered her clenched 
fists together.  Her body was shaking.
     No man would ever speak to her like that and get away with iti You 
are, to me, like the mess a dog makes on the side-walk.
     Mel Sheila began to move slowly around the room.
     After some five minutes, she gained control of herself, but her 
rage against Brown burned.  Her breathing eased, and she began to 
think.  She sat down and stared at the sunlit window.
     I'll fix you, you ape, she told herself.  Somehow, I'll fix youl 
How can I?  she thought, but I'll do it if it's the last thing I ever 
do I Mushy thinking.  I want to see you dead I How7 A g,)ad question.  
She thought of the telephone.  The police!  ['hen she realised this was 
still mushy thinking.  She would never get near the telephone.  This 
ape was in control!
     WaitafewmiRutes.  Get control of yourself, she thought.  Shegot up 
andwent into the bathroom.  Shebathed herface incoldwater.  Shelooked 
atherself in themirror, aware that the steel in her was exerting 
itself.  She was now relaxing.  She spent some minutes fixing her face, 
then satisfied, she returned to the bedroom and opened the suitcase 
Calhoun had lent her.  She selected a fresh shirt and another pair of 
jeans and dressed.  All the time her mind was active.  Hethoughts were 
only on Brown.  How to fix him?
     Now, almost calm, she sat in a lounging-chair.  Her mind darted 
like a fieldmouse collecting food.
     Finally she nodded, now completely calm, Nothing else will do.  I 
must kill him!
     She sat still, repeating the thought again in her mind.
     Yesl But how?
     She thought of his brute strength.  The way he crushed the pewter 
ashtray.
     The way he had slapped Pe@", If only she had a gun!
     Then she stiffened and sat up straight.
     A gum She had a gun!
     How could she have forgotten7
     She remembered taking Perry's gun from the salt ir scaring the 
life out of that stinking private eye.  She retain bered stuffing the 
gun into her handbag.
     She jumped to her feet.
     Where was thehandbag?  Shelooked at the two suitcl@,t,: She looked 
around the room, her eyes searching.
     No handbag.
     Then she remembered.  She had put the handbag in the )eep's map 
pocket by the driver's seat when she had le) Jacksonville.  Perry had 
missed it.  So, the handbag wi@; i the Jeep, parked outside the lodge.
     How to get it?
     Then sheheard thesound of a carapproaching.  Sheran to the window 
and saw the Jeep pull up outside the lodge.  Sh( saw Perry get out, 
carrying a plastic sack, and enter the lodge.
     She stared for a long moment at the Jeep, knowing she d@t get to 
it and get her handbag.  She heard voic vul n

     uld t oving silently, she opened the bedroom door a

     istened.
     'I want to talk to my wife.' She heard Perry say, Brown said 
sorilething, then a door shut and she io more.
     Waitfshetoldherself.Thetimemustcome-Thegun there.  just wait.
     i Hollis switched on his radio.
     'Sheriff7' ,listening.' y cover is blown.' Brie 'A bit of a mess.  
I suspect m 'This punk is lie-)Ills went on to explain about the dog.
     Be,ii guess I'm up this tree Hollis concluded.
     @ @c lell.  I'd better tell jenner, Hank.' it, dark, I'll move to 
another t As solon as s rry about it.  This punk won't said.'IDO@t we e 
he won't even

     before it's dark, and rnayb

     ",.cook, Hank, it wa@t be dark.  I've checked@ The L,@ll, moon 
tonight.' if and I'll nail "@,)'o fine.  He has only to show himse ou 
to know.  I'll keep in touch.' I just wanted y ,Ylou,re sure you don't 
want me to come down th f. joilis forced a laugh.  it.
     I've been in much

     @-,Io, Sheriff, I can handle Off.

     ,)@)ts in the Army,' and he switched the tree-tru fare eased his 
aching back against il ted his rifle - Already the sur, was sinking.  
There the river.  In another half ho glow an rii()on would come uve. 
Lights had come on behi i [e looked at the lodg as going on @it.;iwn 
curtain.  He wondered what w d a nearb t i-@ ()@;e walls - Leaning 
forward, he inspecte @jt v@c)-aid be easy to climb, but the sighting 
from up w)ultin't be as gocli as from the one he war, in.
     He'd wait, he thought.  If Logan suspected he wa the tree, there 
was a chance he would come out sh

      Hollis fondled his rifle.

     The moment the sound of the barking dog came to Perry and Brown, 
Brown, moving with the speed of a striking snake, was on his feet, gun 
In hand and at the window.
     The speed of his movement stunned Perry.  It seemed incredible 
that any man could move that quickly.  He remained in his chair, 
watching, as Brown gently parted the curtains and stared out.
     Perry listened to the savage barking of the dog.  He was sure the 
dog had spotted the cop up in the tree.  Now, what was going to happen?
     There was a long pause.  Then Perry heard a man's voice call to 
the dog.  For some seconds, the dog continued to bark, then the man 
called again, and the dog ceased to bark.
     Perry looked at Brown's thick, muscular back, at his blond hair 
and his evil crouch.  His mind became active.  He had to help this cop, 
hidden in the tree.
     'Don't get excited, Jim,' he said, forcing himself to sound 
casual.  'This happens all the time.' Brown pushed the curtains 
together and looked around, staring at Perry.
     His expression was so vicious, Perry felt a qualm.
     'Watc@a mean7' Brown snarled.  'That dog spotted a cop hidden in 
that tree.
     You think I'm a fucking idiot?' 'That dog spotted an opossum.  
They are always up those trees.' 'A what7' 'Opossum.  An animal.  Dogs 
hate them,' Perry ll d,.  forcing a casual note into his voice.  He 
searched for a cigarette, then lit it.  'You have cops on the brain.
     I well remember, last time I was here, I saw a number of these 
animals, treeclimbing.' Watching, he saw Brown was relaxing.  'They are 
like big rats.  They feed on fish and eggs.  You've heard of opossums, 
haven't you7' 'Yeah7'Brown moved away from the window.  He now seemed 
totally relaxed as he shoved the gun back into its holster, but the 
evil grin and the uneasy darting of his eyes remained.  'So you don't 
think there is a cop: that tough-looking Deputy up there in the tree?' 
'I told you, Jim,' Perry said quietly, 'I saw him less than two hours 
ago in Rockville.  For God's sakel Relaxl' Still Brown stared at him.
     'You could have driven him here, couldn't you7 You could have left 
him in the goddamn forest to climb that tree, couldn't you?  You could 
be lying, couldn't you?' Perry tipped ash off his cigarette into an 
ashtray.  He was surprised how steady his hand was.
     'This is like a scene out of one of my movies,' he said.  'Of 
course I could be lying to you, Jim.  I understand your suspicions.  
Frankly, it's great background for my movie.' 'Fuck your moviel' Brown 
snarled.  'Are you lying to me?' Here, Perry felt he was on safe ground 
so he was able to say with confidence, 'No, Jim, I'm not lying to you.  
I did not bring the Deputy here.  I didn't meet him.' Brown continued 
to stare at him.
     'An opossum, huh?' 'That's right.  Now, Jim, can I go talk to my 
wife7' The light in the room was darkening, now the sun had set.  
Neither of the men could see each other clearly.  Perry switched on a 
table-lamp.
     'Okay,' Brown said.  'No tricks, Perry.  I like you.  You're 
straight with me.  I'll tell you something.  Ever since I was in this 
goddamn world, no one but you has been straight with me.  That's great, 
isn't it?  No one.  Even my pa wasn't straight with me.  My mother 
wished I'd never been born.  My Cobra pals secretly hated me, but you . 
 . .'He suddenly smiled.  It wasn't the evil grin Perry was now used 
to.  It was a broad, almost innocent smile that made Perry feel ashamed 
of himself.  'So, okay, go talk to your wife.  I'll get supper.  
Grflled prawns, okay7' Perry heaved himself out of his chair.
     'Fine.' He started for the door, then paused.  'You intend to 
leave tonight, Jim7' 'That's it.  When it gets dark, I'll take off.' 
Brown said.
     I guess I'll head for Jacksonville, then get lost.  It s easy to 
get lost with ten grand.  I've got lost on nothing, but this one will 
be dead easy.' 'I wish you luck,' Perry said, wondering if he meant 
this.
     'I don't want anyone's luck ... only my own,'BrOwn said.  'Go talk 
to your wife.
     If anyone wants luck, you do,' and he went into the kitchen and 
closed the door.
     As Perry walked into the big bedroom, Sheila spun around and ran 
to him.
     'Oh, darlingl' She flung her arms around him in a hugging embrace.
     Perry fondled her, feeling the tenseness of her back muscles.
     'Are you all right7' She pushed away from him, and they looked at 
each other.  It startled him to see her hard, set expression and the 
stormy look in her eyes.
     'All right7 Yes, if you mean I had no trouble with that ape.  
What's happening?' He closed the door.
     'But there's something bothering you7' 'Oh, for Christ's sakel 
I've been waiting for you for hoursf Don't you call that somethings' 
'I'm sorry.  I've been getting information.  I've things to tell 
you.'Lowering his voice, Perry went on, 'He's leaving soon after dark.' 
'Leaving7' 'Yes.  He's just told me.  He's using the Jeep and driving 
to Jacksonville.' Sheila stiffened.  This overpowering urge to kill 
Brown dominated her thoughts.
     You are, to me, like the mess a dog leaves on the side-walk.
     Those words continued to burn in her mind.  If this brute got 
away, she could imagine him telling his friends what he had said to 
her.  She could imagine their brutal, filthy laughter.
     Seeing Perry was looking uneasily at her, she nodded.
     'Well, that's something, isn't it7' I He 'It will mean we will be 
out of this nightmare .  forced a smile.  'We can return to square A. 
Please, try to relax.  This time tomorrow, we can begin our lives 
together again.' 'You talk the most utter driven' she snapped.  'Do you 
imagine our lives, after this, can go on as before7' 'I don't see why 
not.  I love you, Sheila.  We could make a new start.' She stared at 
him.
     'Use that corny dialogue for your ne-xt moviel' 'Sheilal' I 
herself.
     She made an effort to contra, 'I shouldn't have said that.  I m 
bet up.  We can talking ape has gone.' She about our lives when that 
stink looked at him, her eyes calculating.  'You forgot my cket on the 
handbag, Perry need it .  it's in the map Pa driver's side.  Will you 
get it7' I,m damn sure Brown won , t let me go out there, Sheila.  Your 
handbag has to wait.' 'Well, try.  I need my handbag.' 'Why?
     Her control slipped and, before she could stop herself, she 
blurted out with vicious fury, 'Because I'm going to gun in my 
handbagl' kill that bastard[ There's a this, she regretted it.  Why 
immediately she had said couldn't she have kept control of herself?  
Looking at expression, she knew he was more than Perry, seeing his 
shocked.
     Then quietly, in that infuriating gentle voice he always used when 
she was in a difficult mood, he said, 'Now, Sheila.  Come on[ You know 
you haven't a gun.
     empting to be soothing, sparked off her That voice, att

     rage again.  r gunt I took it from the safel It's in my

     'I've got you handbag.  Go and get itl' They were both talking in 
whispers.
     What are you doing with my gun7'  'You want to know7' Sheila 
faced him, her fists clenched, her eyes like glowing embers.  'I'll 
tell you.  Your boss, that sonofabitch Hart, sicked a private eye on 
me!  Do you like that7 A filthy shamus who tried to blackmail me!
     Your boss, Perry!  He did that to mel I had this creep in our 
home.  He wanted ten thousand dollars.  I fixed him.  I got the gun 
from the safe and I shot at him.  I scared the crap out of himi I wish 
now I had killed him as I intend to kill that apel' As Perry stood 
motionless, staring at her, into his mind came the words that Silas S. 
Hart had said to him: I know her a lot better than you do.  I've had 
report on her background and reports of what she is doing wiii, You 
try to write something worth while.  My people bugged the motel where 
she has it off.
     PerTy had refused to listen, although he knew it was true.  He 
still didn't want to accept the brutal fact that his wife was behaving 
like a tramp.
     'All right,' he said, his voice husky.  'We'll go into all that 
later.  This is not the time.' 'You sicken mel' Sheila exclaimed.  'Go 
and get my handbagl' 'You either don't understand or you won't believe 
the situation we're in,' Perry said quietly.  'This man is cruy in the 
head.  I've already warned you the only way we,--an survive is to go 
along with him.  If I asked his permission to get your handbag, he 
would want to know why.  Wf@at do I tell him?  You want your lipstick?  
He's not only crazy, but he's curining.  Maybe he would let me get the 
handbag.  He would snatch it from me and find the gun.  He would only 
need that to go over the edge.  He would kill us as he killed six other 
people.  We do nothing, Sheila.  We wait.  When it's dark, he will 
leave.'

     Then they heard Brown call from the bottom of the stairs.

     'Chuck's upi Come and get itl' 'We had better go,' Perry said.  We 
must not antagonise him.' She sneered.
     'You go, spineless.  I wouldn't eat anything that ape has touched. 
 You go and keep your loony pal company.' She turned and went to the 
window, looking out at the growing darkness.
     Perry hesitated, then shrugged.  He kn ew it was essentia to keep 
Brown on even keel.  Maybe there would be only a few hours before he 
left.  He walked down the stairs into tile living-room.
     Brown, whistling tunelessly, was setting the table for three.
     'Not my wife, Jim,' Perry said.  'Excuse her.  This has been a 
shock to her.
     She's gone to bed.' 'Sure, I've always said the best place for a 
woman is in a bed.' Brown grinned.
     'So okay, all the more for us, huh?' Perry sat at the table.  At 
all costs, he thought, he must keep this man on even keel.  He had no 
appetite, but he must force himself to eat.
     Brown returned with a steaming platter of rice in a curried sauce 
and big king-sized prawns laid on top.
     'Looks good, huh7' he said, and helped himself generously, then 
pushed the platter towards Perry.  'I never told you, did 17' He began 
to eat savagely.  'One time, I was a short-order cook in a greasy 
spoon.  I was a kid then.  There was this black chef.  He was gay, and 
he took a liking to me.  When I first got there, I washed dishes, then 
he tried the old razzmatazz.  So what did I have to lose?
     We had a few nights together.  It paid off.' Brown munched while 
he stared in space.  'My old man was always saying crappy things, but 
one thing did stick in my mind.  He was always Drying "what you put in, 
you take out."  ' Brown gave a barking laugh.  'He wasn't talking about 
gays.  He meant something different.' Brown laughed again.  'Well, it 
paid off: this fag taught me how to cook.  Pretty good, huh7' Toying 
with the food, Perry said, 'Couldn't be better.' 'Yeah.' Brown had 
finished his portion of prawns.  'You ain't eating.' 'I'm fine.' Perry 
made an effort and swallowed some rice.
     Brown stared at him.
      'You worried about somethings' 'I wish to God my wife hadn't 
cornel'Perry said quietly.  'She's a complication, but I promise you, 
Jim, she won't be a nuisance.' Brown helped himself from the platter.
     'Right.  I thought you might be worried about that opossum up in 
that tree.' Perry felt a cold chill run through him.  Had Browneen 
through his lie?  He forked a prawn and began to eat it.
     'Opossum?  Oh, that?  Why should I worry about a @ree animal?  No, 
I'm worried about my wife "Yeah -rhat's natural.' Brown was silent, 
e@itiiig steadily.  When finished, be eyed the prawns and rif,:e.  'You 
want that, Perry7' 'No, thanks.  I've had all I want.' 'Another of my 
old man's crappy sayings was ntver waste a thing.'Brown shoved the 
remaining food ant his plate.'Ibet you were never hungry.  ikndw what 
real @)un ger is.  There was a time whn I hadyt a nickel.  I sta@@(l. 
 used to walk the streets and pick oe, the t rash-bins, That's how 
hungry I was.  I used to walk along the streets where the restaurants 
were and peer through the windows, watching rich fat slobs stuffing 
their guts.  I remember watching a slob who ate enough to last me a 
week.  He had the lot: soup, fish, a big steak, two shots of apple pie. 
 I remember him well.  I can see him now.  I watche d him take out a 
wallet stuffed with money.  That was my first mugging.  I hit him.  It 
was a pleasure.  From then on, Perry, f never starved.' 'You've had a 
rough life, Jim,'Perry said quietly, pushing aside his plate.
     Brown finished his meal.
     'Not any more.  With ten thousand dollars, I'm going to have a 
ball.' He looked up and grinned at Perry.  'you finished7' 'Yes, 
thanks.  It was very good.' 'I'll clear the dishes.  I like leaving 
things ship-shape.  That's another of my old man's crappy sayings.  
Shipshape, huh?, Brown gave his barking laugh.  He gathered up the 
dishes and went into the kitchen.
     Perry stood up, lit a cigarette and went to the window.  He parted 
the curtains and looked out - it was dark.  All he cot;id see was his 
own reflection in the window glass.  Replacing the curtains, he walked 
to a lounging-chair and sat down.
     E-low much tonger7 he thought, listening to Brown's tuneless 
whistling and to the clatter of dishes as he washed up, So far, he 
seemed to be keeping this man on even keel, but the strain was 
beginning to tell on him.  His hands were 'I'hen the sound of the 
telep'none bell startled'h!Tn.  clammy, and his heart was beating 
unnaturally fast.
     13rown appeared in the doorway, his hand on his gun.  'Answer it, 
Perry,' he said.  'Careful.  No tricks.' Perry got to his feet and 
lifted the receiver.
     'Yes?' 'T'@-,at you, Boy7' He recognised the voice of Silas S.
     'How's it coming, Boy?  You settled in nice?  I guess you 'Hello 
there, Mr Hart.' have had some tough weather your way.' 'Yes, but it's 
cleared now.' 'Good, Got an idea yet?' 'I'm working on something.  
Early days.' thing good.  I'm relying on you.  Done any fishing?' 
'Sure.  I'm not pressing you.  You'll come up with some-'Not yet.' 
There was a pause, then Hart went on.  'Had a call from Franklin.  He 
wanted this contract fixed.' 'There's time.  It's okay, Mr Hart, Don't 
worry about the contract.  I'll sign it, but I don't want Franklin 
around for the moment.' 'Sure.'Again a pause.  'Your wife's joined 
you.'It wasn't a question, it was a flat statement.
     'Yes.' 'That wise?' Perry felt a surge of irritation.
     'That's my affair, isn't it, Mr Hart?' 'I sure hope it is, Boy,' 
Hart said, his voice cold.  'Well, 157

      okay.  Let me know what you've come up with.  So long,' and he 
hung up.

     Perry replaced the receiver.
     Brown, still in the doorway, was watching him.
     'Your boss7'

     'Yes.'

     'You know somethings I wouldn't work for ariyoll(, now.  It's a 
sucker's game.' 'Most people have to work for someone, Jim.
     'Oh, sure.  Suckers!  Know somethings If I worked fori

     jerk, and he told me what to do, I'd ram his teeth down [ii!, 
throat.'

     'Then the jerk would be lucky not to employ wouldn't he7'

     Brown grinned.

     'You sure said something.  Okay, in an hour or so, I' II k 
taking off.  I reckon I've got a good chance.  Once I g Jacksonville, 
I'll get lost.  No cop is going to catch patted the gun in the holster. 
 'With all that money, I i@ leave them standing.' 'For your sake, I 
hope so.' Brown regarded Perry.

     'Yeah.  Okay, go up and join your wife.  I'm going to ] @

     you in.  When I'm ready, I'll let you kno k-ill first.  Come on!' 
w. I've things to (-Ao Perry walked from the living-room and up the 
stairs.  1-ie hoped, if he showed no resistance, didn't antagonise this 
man, he would go without harming either Sheila or h Brown followed him.
     As Perry walked into the bedroom where Sheila the bed, her chin in 
her hands, staring down at the i,f 
Brownslammedthedoor,andPerryheardthekeyti.irr thelock.
     Hank Hollis switched on the radio.  'Sheriff 7' 'Listening.' 'You 
were right.  There's a full moon coming up la@3t.
     already lit up the river.  In ten minutes or so, it will liF, f 
I've changed my mind.  it would be too risky to change trees.  Idon't 
knowif Logansuspectsl'mup here, but it's sirer to think he does.  I 
don't think he'll risk coming out in the moonlight.  The advantage is 
mine.  If he does come out, I'll nail him.  There's a big patch of flat 
ground before n ty tree.  He'd have to cross it, so I'm staying where I 
am.'

     'Hankl Hadn't I better come down7 Extra fire-power.  I'll I

     @,e (;"Lreful.  I'll come by the footpath.  I want to come.' 
'V@ith respect, Sheriff, don't.  I've handled situations like 'ni!@ 
I)efore.  This is a one-man show.  If I thought you were rc) Lind and I 
heard you, I wouldn't know if it was Logan.
     understand?  lwouldhesitateto shootandthatcouldbe tl 1. So leave 
this to me.' -1 Caere was a pause, then Ross said, 'I un stan .  I' t a 
ri d by.
     Get in touch with me every ten minutes, and that's It ('@rderl' 
kay, Sheriff.  It'll work out.' 'k@;ood luck, Hank.' 'I!  anyone needs 
luck, it will be Logan,' Hollis said and witched off.
     '; i-o @,vn stood in the kitchen, an evil sin ile on his face.
     An opossum?
     @.1@h,yeah?
     If e was sure that tough-looking Deputy was up there in he tree, 
with a rifle, waiting for him.  Well, Okay, he had to @et rid of him 
before he made his break.
     I i(!  stood for some minutes, thinking.  He pulled the gun

     rom its holster, checked it, satisfied himself it was fully ii

     1 )allied and returned it to its holster.  Then he turned off the 
1. i t(: lien light and went to the small window and peered into i, i i 
s 1 i es and darkness.  So far the moonlight was only floodthe front of 
the lodge.  In another few minutes, the at the back of the lodge would 
be lit.  i me to go.
     f le opened the window, got up on the sink, then slid out vith the 
speed of a striking snake.  Reaching the ground, he ,y f [at, listened, 
then, using his elbows to propel himself, i(, worked his way into 
cover.  For several minutes he lay motionless, feeling the damp soil 
through his shirt.  He waited until his eyes grew more accustomed to 
the dark, then he began to move forward again.  Using his elbows and 
the toes of his boots, fie moved forward as silently and almost as 
swiftly as a snake.  He kept moving to his left, away from the tree 
where he was sure the cop Tvas concealed.  His planning was to make a 
circle and come up on the tree from behind.
     When he was at right angles to the tree, now some fifty yards 
away, he paused.  From where he Jay, with th@ leaves of a shrub 
touching his head, he had a clear viet,; of the tree.  All he could see 
was dense foliage in spi,.c@ r-,l the now brilliant moonlight.
     He nodded to himself.  The cop had picked a good,@p(t.  He would 
be up in the top branches from where he wou),J get a good sight of the 
lodge.
     Brown waited.  Sooner or later the cop would mat,.e a movement.  
Once he knew where he was, the rest would be easy.  Brown settled down 
to wait.
     Hollis eased his aching back.  His rifle lay across laid knees 
ready for instant action, his eyes were fixed on ttilodge.  Lights 
showed in the livingroom and one upper room.  He looked at the jeep, 
now brilliantly lit by the moonlight.  Logan would have to come out to 
get into the Jeep.  Hollis was confident that he could nail him the 
moment he appeared.  It was Vietnam all over again, but with a 
difference.  Then, his back didn't ache.  He wordered with a feeling 
of lost confidence, how long he could remain, straddled across the tree 
trunk.  He shifted slightly to ease his back and the burning sorenes,5 
between his buttocks.  Come on, you punkl he thought.  Show yourself] 
The silence and the lifelessness of the lodge depressed him, but he 
told himself, any momei@@ there would be action.  He fingered his 
rifle, then rernen) bered the Sheriff's instructions to contact him 
every minutes.  He switched on the radio.
     'Sheriff7' 'What's happening?' 'Nothing so far.' Hollis held the 
receiver close to his lips.  'I'm sure he'll break out sometime 
tonight.  it's just a matter of waiting.' 'But, Hank, you've been up 
that tree for more than seven hours.  How are you making out7' Hollis 
forced himself to say, 'I'm okay .  I could stay up here all night.  I 
feel in my bones, Logan will break out tonight.  Don't worry about me.' 
u,' Ross said 'You're a fine man, Hank.  I admire yo Coming from an old 
cop like Ross this Hollis smiled.
     iffened his aching back.
     was high praise.  He st you down.' 'Thanks, Sheriff.  I won't let 
'Call me in ten minutes.  I'll be at the radio until you have nailed 
this punk.' 'Okay,' and Hollis switched off.  Not once during their 
brief talk had he taken his eyes off the lodge.  What was going on in 
there7 Then a thought dropped into his mind.  If Logan was going to 
break out, 'he would disconnect the telephone.
     Hollis couldn't accept the thought that this before he left.  He 
would man would kill the Westons probably tie them up, disconnect the 
telephone and take off.  Hollis 'hoped to God he was thinking right.
     Unaware that Brown was creeping through the bushes, pushing 
himself forward by his elbows and toes and slowly circling the tree.  
Hollis switclned on the radio 'Sheriff, I've thought of something,' he 
said.  'If Logan is breaking out, he'll discdnrtect the telephone.  
Will you call Weston7 If he answers, say it's a wrong number.  I want 
to know if the telephone is disconnected.' 'Okay, Hank.  Hang on.' Ross 
said, 'There' There was a five-minute pause, then isconnected.'

     no ringing tone.  I guess the telephone is d

     Hollis nodded.  okay, Sheriff, I'm ready lo 'Then he's on the 
move.
     him.  Can't be long now.' 'Keep in touch, Hank.' ills switched 
off.  He wasno 'Don't worry,' and Ho very alert, but his eyes remained 
fixed to the lodge.
     By now, his clothes caked with mud, Brown ha reached the back of 
the tree.
     He lay still for sam  moments, then began to move forward until 
he iA,is within twenty Yards of the tree.  He peered upward.  TI@Q 
foliage of the tree at the back was less thick, but still he couldn't 
spot Hollis, so he waited.
     orni The burning between Hollis's less was bec ian@.ct unbearable. 
 He cursed himself for not bringing a b to make a saddle across the 
branch How much long@i-could he stay in this Position?
     He 'now knew the te),@-phone had been disconnected.  Any moment 
now, L would appear.  His e 0

     yes still on the lodge, he carefully laid his rifle across t

     wa upper branches, then eased hir"self away from the branch he 
was sitting on, suckin breath in relief.  9
     That Movement was fatal.  Brown saw him.  With evil grin of 
triumph, he drew his gun.
     Sheila looked up and stared at Perry, her eyes hostil@@.  She 
stiffened a little as she heard the door lok snap shut.
     'Now, whar?'she demanded.
     'He's getting ready to leave,' Perry said.  'With luc@ this 
nightmare could be over in an hour.' 'Well, at least it will give you a 
movie plot, won't it?, 'Oh, Sheilal Can't You think about us?' Perry 
sai(;, coming further into the room.  'Once this is over .  . I 'Oh, 
stop it I While you were eating that ape's food, been doing a lot of 
thinking.  I have decided I have a very small place in your life.  All 
you really think about is you I stupid movie plotsl' Sheila snapped.  
'I'm a goddamrt ornament to youl I decorate your home.
     You swell your stupid chest with pride that you have caught a 
your wife.  Your only interest in me is when You get into bed[ knowl 
There are many times when I talk to you and know You're not listening 
All you think about is money!' Wearily, Perry sat down.
     'Now, Sheila, this is not the time to start a domesti@: brawl.  
You must get it into your head that we are in -.  very dangerous 
situation.  Brown is leaving.
     He coulf' come up here and kill us both.  Don't you understand 
What has he to lose?  I've done my best to keep friendly with him.  He 
might be content to keep us locked in here.  I lope to God he will, but 
until he leaves we both are hovering between life and a violent end.' 
'Anything to shut me up I' Sheila exclaimed.  'I'm telling You, when 
this is over, I'm getting a divorce.  I've had dough of you!  I want my 
freedomi There are hundreds men with more money than you who will go 
for me!  I kitowl I've had enough of living with a script-writer[ 
L.@nderstand7' Perry looked at her and saw the cold implacable 
expression in her eyes.
     This was the solution.  He thought of those two years ti(!  had 
put up with this girl, doing everything he could to release her, but 
realising there were so many times when ii@!  was absorbed in his work 
and he had forgotten her.  @,Vriting for the movies was his life.  He 
was dedicated to his talent.  Yesl He immediately realised to be free 
from iltis girl would be more than a blessing.
     Yet, he felt defeated.  He had tried desperately to make his 
marriage a ;uccess, but he should have known it was doomed to f@tilure. 
 Well, he knew now.  It was over, and he felt a @-lense of relief.
     He smiled at Sheila.
     'If that's what you want, Sheila, all right.  I'll arrange a 
(@livorce.  I'll see you are taken care of.' 'Oh no, you won't I' 
Sheila said, her voice hard.  'I'll do ,ill the taking caret If you 
imagine I've wasted two good years of my life, living with you, you're 
making a big mistake!  I want the house.  I want half your earnings[ 
I'll take care of itl' 'Spoken like the child you are,' Perry said.  
'All right.  When we get out of this mess, we'll talk about it.  Now 
r)lease, relax.  If you believe in God, now is the time to @;ay a 
prayer.  We could both be dead in a very short time.' 'What corny 
dialogue Keep that for your movie scripti When that ape leaves, I'm 
going to leave.  I'm going back home and I'm going to pack everything 
I ownt You stay here in your stinking little lodger I'm going back to 
Pa.
     He'll put one of his smart attorneys on You, and between us well 
skin youl Make _no mistake about thatt' "You haven't left Yet,'Perry 
said.
     'You may not leave.' 'Still trying to scare me?' She gave a hard, 
bitter laugh.
     'I don't scare as easily as you.'

     'I'm just warning .  . .'

     He broke off as both heard the sound of a gun.
     Sheita's eyes opened wide.
     'What was that7' 'Gun-fire.  What did you think it was?  A goddamn 
hicCUP?' Moving swiftly, Perry snapped off the light, then Went to the 
open window.  His heart was hammering as he looked towards the big tree 
where he was almost sure the cop was hiding.  The tree was lit by the 
moon.  He saw the foliage move violently.
     Then to @is horror, he saw a khaki-clad body tumble from branch 
to branch and land at the foot of the tree.  A moment later, a rifle 
came spiralling down.

     He drew back.

     'He's killed the policeman,' he whispered.
     Sheila ran to his side.
     'Policeman?  What are you talking about?' RougMy, he shoved her 
back.  - 'This is trouble, Sheila.  Prepare yourself.' Still at the 
window, he saw Brown appear from the bushes.  He could see him clearly 
in the bright moordight.  Brown was covered with thick mud.  He paused 
for a long moment to stare down at Hollis's body, then he kicked 
Hollis's face savagely with his mud-encrusted boot, then he turned and 
began to run towards the lodge.
     'Put on the light,' Perry said huskily.
     'Sit down.  Now listen.  This is our only chance.  Do exactly what 
he says.  Understand?'

     'You mean he's killed someone?' Sheila said as she switched on the 
light.

     'There was a cop up in the tree across the way, waiting for him to 
come out,' Perry said- 'Brown found him and has killed him.'

     The colour drained out of Sheila's face as she sank on the bed.

     'Oh, Godl' she muttered.  'Why did I come7' 'Quiet I' Perry 
snapped.  'Get hold of yourself!  Listen I' They heard the front door 
slam open, then slam shut.  They heard Brown come thudding up the 
stairs, He thi.idded past their door and ran into the spare room.
     They looked at each other.
     'Don't make a sound,' Perry whispered, 'He may be leaving.  He may 
not come in here.' Listening, they heard the shower running.
     'He's washing.' Sheila shivered.
     'If he comes in here, I'll scream the place down.' 'You'll do 
nothing of the kindl Antagonise him, and he'll kill ust' 'You've got to 
get me out of this!' Sheila whispered.  'You've got to protect me!' 
'Listenl' The shower had stopped running.  They could hear Br-own's 
tuneless whistle.
     They waited for more than five minutes, then they heard thudding 
feet along the passage that stopped at their door.
     'He's coming in,' Perry said.  'Now, get hold of yourself I' The 
lock snapped back and the door slammed open.  Brown, wearing one of 
Perry's white shirts and a new pair of jeans, stood in the doorway.  He 
looked at Sheila, crouching back, and then at Perry, forcing himself to 
relax as he sat in the armchair.  Brown moved further into the room.
     'I killed your opossum, Perry.  A smart animal.  It had a rifle 
and a radio.
     Real smart.  What do you know7' Perry tried to find words, but 
words wouldn't come.  1, m off, Perry.  I'm heading for Jacksonville.  
I'm taking a chance, but I guess I'll beat them.' The evil smile was in 
evidence.  'We'll say good-bye.  I like you.  Everyone makes mistakes.  
You thought there was an opossum up there, b,4t I didn't, and I was 
right.  Let's shake hands, Perry.  Maybe you feel like wishing me 
luck.' Perry got unsteadily to his feet.
      'I do wish you luck, Jim.  Will you be all right for food?  Do 
you want anything from the freezer?' Perry was forcing himself to speak 
calmly.
     'I don't need a thing.  I've got money.  I've got a gun, and I've 
got the Jeep.' Brown held out his hand.  'So it's goodb-ye.' Perry 
forced himself to cross the room so he faced Brown who continued to 
smile evilly.  He hated to touch this killer, but he had to do it.  He 
clasped Brown's hard sweaty hand.  His hand was gripped in steel-like 
fingers, crushing his fingerbones.  He felt himself being jerked 
forward.  As he was off balance, Brown hit him with his left fist on 
the side of his jaw.  Perry went down as if he had been pole-axed.  It 
was a terrible blow that sent him into black unconsciousness.
     Sheila, her hands to her mouth, released a stifled scream.  She 
didn't dare move.  She sat staring down at her husband.  Utter terror 
ripped her as Brown stepp(@.@ 9 -I around Perry's body and regarded 
her.
     'Come on, baby,' he said.  'You and me are goi,@ places.  You 
start tricks and I'll break your neck.' FI(2 reached for her and jerked 
her to her feet.  'You're doiri@ the driving.  As long as I have you 
with me, the col@i won't shoot.  Come on!' Her legs scarcely 
supporting her, his hand gripping her arm, she was bundled down the 
stairs and out into the moonlight.  She was forced into the drivingseat 
of the Jeep.  Brown ran around and climbed into the passenger's seat.
     'No tricks, baby.  Just drive.' 'I don't think I can,' Sheila said 
breathlessly.
     'Too bad.  Drive or I'll slap you.  I'll loosen your godd,amn 
teeth!' With a shaking hand, Sheila tur ,ped on the ignition.
     The Jeep started with a jerk.
     'Make for the highway,' Brown said.  'Get moving!' Mary Ross came 
into the Sheriff's office with a fresh pot of coffee and a thick slice 
of apple pie.
     'Jeff, dear,' she said quietly, putting the coffee and the pie on 
his desk, 'you've been sitting here without your supper for the past 
seven hours.  Why not take a rest?  I'll take over, and if Hank calls, 
I'll call you.  Now, come on, Jeff, you'll be fit for nothing if you go 
on like this.' Ross turnedland looked other.  She was shocked to see 
how he had aged and how haggard his face was.
     'Hank's been up that tree for as long, Mary,' he said.  'I don't 
quit until this business is settled.  Anyway, thanks for the coffee.  I 
don't want the pie.' 'Take a bite,' Mary urged.  'It's your favourite.  
It'll do you good.' 'Don't fussl' There was a bark in Ross's voice.  
'This is my job, Maryl'He looked at the wall clock.  'I told Hank to 
call me every ten minutes.  It's now a quarter of an hour since his 
last call.' 'It's you who are fussing, Jeff,' Mary said.  She poured 
the coffee, added sugar and pushed the cup towards him.  'Give him a 
little time.  Something might have happened.' 'Yes?  But what?  
Something might have happened to F@ankl That Logan is as dangerous as a 
cobra,' 'Drink some coffee" Mary said soothingly.  'Would you like me 
to put a drop of Scotch in it.' Ross sipped the hot coffee.
     'Not I keep thinking of Hank up there, alone.  You know, Mary, 
he's a fine man.
     The best deputy I've ever had.' 'I know.  Be patient, Jeff.  You 
see, it'll come out all right.' Ross wasn't listening His eyes were 
riveted on the wall clock, watching the big minute-hand crawl around.
     'He's overdue by nearly twenty minutes,' he muttered.  'I'll give 
him another three minutes, then I'm calling him.' Would that be wise, 
Jeff7 You might be interrupting something.' 'I'm calling him,' Ross 
said firmly.  'I can't stand it, sitting here when Hank could be in 
trouble.' As the minute-hand of the wall clock indicated that three 
minutes had dragged by, Ross switched on the radio.

     'Hank7'

      Only the slight crackle of static greeted him.
     'Hank?' Ross raised his voice.
     No answering voice that he ]on 'L)o You hear me?, 'Hanki, ged to 
hear came to him Nothing.
     'His radio could have packed UP,' Mary said.  pens, doesn't 
it?'She was watching with dread husband's bulky body was stiffening.  
She kne 'Now, Jerr, please .

     Ross stood up, Pulled his gun from its he)istei and returned it.

     'I'm going down there, Mary.  Now, don't fuss[ This could be the 
awful business all over again when Tom got killed.  "In going to see.' 
'But not alonel' Mary exclaimed.  'Call Carl.  Ge down therel Now, 
Jeff, stop this!' t men D ' on't YOU realise Hank could be wounded?  He 
could be bleeding!  It'll take Carl more than an organised, I'm going.  
@our to get anything ' He touched her shoulder, then, slamming on his 
Stetson hat, he ran Out of the office and Out to the patrol car.
     Mary stood motionless, then, as she heard the car start up, she 
moved swiftly tc) the telephone, She 'hadn't been a Policeman's wife 
for over thirty years for nothing.  In any emergency, Ross had once to] 
d h e r , a l w @ Y s k e e p Y o u r h e a d .
     N e v e r p a n i c .
     W i t h a s t e a d y f i n g e r , s h e d i a l l e d C a r l J 
e n n e r ' s n u m b e r .
     Jenner had checked through all the re arts coming from the State 
Police p in their hunt for Chet Logan.  The hunt was Still going on; 
the results negative.  Lo--an must be miles 'Way by now, he thought as 
he got to his feet.  He now looked forward to returning home where his 
wife was keeping his Supper hot.

     Then the telephone bell rang.

     Impatiently, he picked up the receiver.
     'Jenner' 'This is Mary Ross.  Carl, Please listen and don't 
interrupt.  We're in trouble here, and we need fast action.  Here's 
what has been happening.; Concisely, she told Jenner that )oth Ross and 
Hollis had suspected Logan was hiding in ?erry Wes@on's fishiriglodge, 
how Hollis had staked out he lodge in a tree, how he then confirmed 
that Logan was indeed there, that Mrs Weston had arrived, and it was 
agreed to bring in extra help would mean both Weston's and his wife's 
deaths were certain.
     jenner had sat down, the receiver pressed to his ear, now and then 
riiuttering, 'Jesus!' 'Hollis has been up this tree for seven hours.  
Weston collected ten thousand dollars from the bank and returned to the 
lodge.  Jeff is sure Logan, with this money, is going to break out.  
Hollis was going to shoot him as soon as he appeared.  He has been 
keeping in touch with Jeff every ten minutes,' Mary went on.  'Now, 
there's no answer on the radio.' Her voice began to shake, but with an 
effort, she controlled herself.  'Jeff has just gone to find out what's 
happening.  Carl!  You must do something quicklyl Jeff is an old man.  
If Hollis is dead, Jeff can't handle a brute like Logan.  Please .  . ' 
'Take it easy, Mary.  I've got men standing by,' jenner said.  'We'll 
be down there in half an hour.  Leave it to me.' He slammed down the 
receiver and switched on his radio.
     With his blue light flashing, but no siren, Sheriff Ross drove 
down the highway at a breakneck speed.
     At this hour, the traffic to Jacksonville was light - Seeing the 
flashing blue light, oncoming cars pulled to the side to let the patrol 
car flash by.
     As he drove, Ross was thinking.  He would stop at the footpath and 
make his way down the path to the river on foot.  He was tempted to use 
the muddy road, but if Hank's radio had failed and Hank was still up 
the tree, arriving in the patrol car at the fishing-lodge would be a 
complete give-away.  If he went by the footpath, he would be faced with 
a two-mile walk.  He slowed the patrol car.
     He was rushing things, yet he kept thinking of Hollis.  Then 
seeing the lights of a garage ahead, he gave a nod.  A bicycle!
     He pulled into the garage, and an elderly man came out, wiping his 
hands on an oil-stained rag.
      'Evening, S eriff,' he said.  'Fill her up, huh?' 'No, Tom.  
Have you a bicycle I can borrow?' The man gaped.
     'A bicycle?' 'Police business, Tom.  Have you got one?' Startled 
by the bark in Ross's voice, the man nodded.
     'Sure.  You want it7' Ross got out of the patrol car and lifted 
the hatch back.
     'Put it in there, fast!' Within two minutes, the bicycle in the 
car, Ross was again roaring down the highway.
     Reaching the signpost 'River' he pulled up, dragged the bicycle 
from the car, then walked with it to the footpath.
     He couldn't remember how long ago it was since he had ridden a 
bicycle.  It was said once you have ridden a bicycle you could always 
ride a bicycle, like swimming.
     Ross mounted the machine, wobbled, thudded against a tree and 
nearly fell off.  He righted the machine, cursing under his breath, 
then started riding.  By sheer will-power, he kept the bicycle going.  
Then as the footpath straightened out he increased speed.  He pedalled 
furiously, feeling sweat running down his face, practically throwing 
the bicycle forward.
     Three times, he nearly hit disaster, as the bicycle skidded in 
soft patches of mud, but he managed to keep going.  He was aware the 
minutes were passing.
     The twomile ride would remain in his memory until his death.  With 
his breath rasping through his clenched teeth, his heart hammering from 
exertion, he saw ahead of him, the glitter of the river in the 
moonlight.
     Slamming on the brakes, he skidded to a standstill, then, dropping 
the bicycle into the shrubs, drawing his gun, he moved slowly and 
cautiously down the path.
     He paused when he could see the fishing-lodge, brilliantly lit by 
the moonlight.  He waited several minutes until his breathing returned 
to normal, then, crouching, he moved forward for several yards, then 
again stopped.
     From where he was, he had an uninterrupted view of the lodge.  He 
could see lights were on in the living-room and in the major bedroom, 
then he realised the Jeep had gone.
     So Logan had taken off I Straightening, he moved forward warily, 
then he saw the body of Hank Hollis, lying at the foot of the big tree.
     Ross felt a cold, sick feeling of shock run through him.  He moved 
quickly and knelt.  He didn't have to touch Hollis to know he had lost 
the best deputy he had ever had.  'Oh, Hank!'Ross muttered.  'I'll get 
him if it's the last thing I dol' Then he heard a sound that made him 
jump upright.
     The front door of the lodge slammed open and Perry Weston came 
staggering out.  He reeled, fell on hands and knees, then struggled to 
his feet.  Moving like a drunken man, he staggered towards the garage.
     Ross slammed his gun back into its holster and ran to Perry.
     'Mr Weston!' Perry turned, reeled and caught hold of Ross's 
shoulder for support.
     'Jesus, Sheriff!  The bastard's gone, and he's taken my wife as 
hostage!' In the moonlight.  Ross could see the black bruise on the 
side of Perry's face.
     'Take it easy, Mr Weston,' he said.  'I'll get back to my car and 
send an alert.
     How long has he been gone?' 'Fifteen minutes, a little more.'Perry 
moved away from Ross.  'Where's your car?  Come on!  He's taken my wife 
as hostage I' 'Top of the road.  I've got a bicycle .
     'We'll go in my car.  Con-te ant' Still unsteady, Perry half ran, 
half staggered to the garage and flicked on the light, then he paused 
and cursed.
     He saw, before Brown had left, he had deflated both the rear tyres 
and they were on their rims.
     'You stay here,'Ros@said.  'I'll get her up to the top of the 
road,' and he slid his bulk into the driving-seat.
     Perry snatched open the passenger's door and got in

     beside RO,55,

     'Get goingt'he shouted.

     I [

     Ross started the engine and backed out of the garage, the car 
juddering on its flat tyres.
     Then began a nightmare drive of two miles to the highway.  The 
road had dried out, but there was still mud.  Rattling and juddering 
the car slid with Ross using all his strength to keep the car straight.
     'He told me he was heading for Jacksonville,'Perry said.  He was 
now recovering from Brown's punch.  His jaw ached and he tasted blood 
in his mouth.
     His only thought was of Sheila, The car slid and smashed into a 
tree.  The offside wing of the car ripped off, but Ross swung out of 
the skid and kept on.
     In less than ten minutes they reached the highway where the patrol 
car was parked.  Switching off the engine, Ross scrambled out and ran 
to the patrol car.
     He switched on the radio.  Moving more steadily, but slowly, Perry 
joined him.
     Ross was talking to jenner.
     'Take it easy, Jeff,' Jenner said.  'Mary alerted me.  I've got 
roadblocks set up.  I've got twenty men who will be with you in fifteen 
minutes.' 'He's got Mrs Weston as hostage!' Ross snapped.  'He's 
heading for Jacksonville.'

     'Tricky, huh?' jenner said.  'I'll handle it,' and he switched 
off.

     As Sheila manoeuvred the Jeep up the mud road, with Brown at her 
side, her panic began to subside.  The steel core in her began to 
assert itself.  She knew she was in mortal danger.  If she didn't do 
something, she was as good as dead, and Sheila had no intention of 
dying.  She was sure that Brown would eventually kill her when he had 
no further use for her as a hostage.  She thought of the gun in her 
handbag in the map pocket, but how to divert his attention to give her 
time to grab the handbag and get the gun?
     'Hurry it up!' Brown snarled, He was leaning forward, studying the 
mud-covered road in the light of the headlamps.
     Sheila slightly increased speed.  They were approaching the bad 
patch of mud where Perry had bogged down.  Should she try to bog the 
jeep down7 That wasn't the answer.  Brown would fly in a rage and hit 
her.
     'Watch this I' Brown barked.  'Get up to your right and take it 
slow.' She did as she was told, and they crossed the drying quagmire 
without trouble.
     'You know something7'Brown said, easing himself back in his seat.  
'For a chick, you drive all right.' Sheila said nothing.  She slightly 
increased the speed of the Jeep.  Within ten minutes, they reached the 
junction of the river road and the highway.
     'Stop I' Brown snapped.  'Turn your lights off.' She stopped and 
snapped off the lights.  They sat side by side in complete darkness.  
She could hear his heavy breathing and smelt the sweat on him.
     Here, perhaps, was her opportunity.  She moved her right hand from 
the steering-wheel and to the map pocket.  A thought flashed through 
her mind.
     Suppose this ape had checked the jeep and had found the gun?  Her 
heart was hammering as her fingers moved further, and felt the hard 
outline of the gun.
     Dare she risk pulling the bag from the map pocket, grope for the 
zip fastener, open the bag and get the gun in her hand7
     Brown said, 'Now take it easy.  We're going to cross the highway.  
There's a dirt road opposite.  We take that.  As soon as the traffic 
gives us a break, you drive fast across the highway.  Got it7' 'That's 
not the way to Jacksonville,' Sheila said, snatching her hand from the 
map pocket.
     Brown gave a soft barking laugh.
     'You know something, baby?  I like your husband.  He's a great 
guy.  I told him Jacksonville because I didn't want to kill him.  I 
hated hitting him, but I had to do it.  Before long, the cops will 
arrive, and he'll tell them Jacksonville.' He laughed again.  'That 
way, the stupid bastards will set up roadblocks, but I'll be away in 
the forestl' Sheila felt a cold chill run through her.  By telling her 
this, this ape was also telling her that before long he would kill 
her.  She had to take a desperate risk if she was to save her life.  
While she was trying to think what to do, Brown was listening to the 
light traffic roaring along the highway.
     'Get readyl'he snapped.  'Start the enginel' She switched on.
     Once across the highway and into the dense forest he would make 
her stop, smash her head in, throw her b' out and drive away.  dy 
'Right.  Now move forward, dead slow,'Brown ordered.
     She engaged gear and drove the Jeep slowly up to the entrance to 
the highway.

     The sound of an approaching truck made him snap, 'Stop[,

     She could now see the highway.  The truck's lights made fast 
approaching pools on the road's surface, It went thundering by.  Brown 
was leaning out of the window.  No car lights showed either to their 
right or left.
     'Nowl'he said.  'Fasti Get across!  Headlightsl' As she switched 
on the headlights, she saw, acros s the highway, a narrow opening to a 
road back into the forest.

     She aimed the Jeep at the opening and trod down on the gas pedal.

     With the engine roaring, the Jeep surged across the highway and 
hit the forest road.  She braked as soon as the Jeep began to bounce on 
the uneven, dirt road.
     'Very sharp,' Brown said.  'Now take it easy.  Keep going.' Sheila 
didn't hear him.  Her mind was busy.  She was remembering what Perry 
had told her Brown had said to him: We7l share a double funeral.  She 
remembered hat Brown had said to her: To me, you're like a mess w makes 
on the sidewalk.  a dog

     Okay, You stinking ape, she thought, if I'm going to die, You'll 
die with mel

     She took a quick look at Brown who was sitting back apparently 
completely relaxed.  He began his tuneless whistle.
     She looked ahead, her eyes searching for a tree.  The dirt road 
was bordered by dense flowering shrubs.  Their scent came into the 
Jeep's cabin.  Then, with her heart beats quickening, she saw, in the 
headlights, a massive Cypress tree on the edge of the road, some 
hundred yards ahead.
     Here it is, she thought.  This is the end to both of ust They were 
now travelling at thirty miles an hour.  Bracing herself, she swiftly 
changed into the fourwheel drive and trod the gas-pedal to the floor.
     The Jeep surged forward.
     Sheila leaned back.  Her hands gripped the steeringwheel.  Her 
arms at full stretch.
     'Hey[' Brown had only time to shout before she swung the Jeep 
towards the tree.
     smashed The Jeep, now moving at sixty miles an hour, into the 
tree.  There was a crunching sound of buckling steel.
     Somehow, Sheila resisted the force of the smash.  The violent 
jolt, for a brief moment, caused her to black out.
     Taken unawares, Brown had been thrown forward.  His head smashed 
against the windscreen.  He was thrown back in his seat, unconscious.
     Sheila came out of the blackout in a few seconds.  For a long 
moment, she remained motionless, then she looked at Brown.
     The light from 'the dashboard was still functioning.  The big moon 
was also lighting the scene.
     Oh, no, you apel she thought.  Not a double funeral!
     She snatched her handbag from the map pocket and tore at the 
zipper.  The zipper moved halfway, then jammed.  With her eyes still on 
Brown, she tore at the bag's opening.
     With frantic strength, she got the bag open, snatched out the gun 
as Brown shook his head and turned towards her.  She pointed the gun at 
him and pulled the trigger.  The gun banged.  She saw him rear back in 
his seat.  She fired again, then again.  Each time Brown half reared up 
and fell back.
     She saw small red blotches on his white shirt which blossomed into 
big patches of blood.
     Triumphant, she leaned forward, staring at him.  She watched him, 
blood now saturating his shirt.  She saw him struggling to sit up.  She 
saw his eyes open.
      'Like it, Jimmy Brown?'she said breathlessly.  'Like it the way 
you killed decent, innocent people?  Die!  Suffer!' Brown's eyes 
focussed.  He stared at her.  Blood began to dribble out of the side of 
his mouth.  He tried to say something, but blood now began to pour out 
of his mouth, and he only made choking sounds.
     'Go on, die, you stinking ape!' she screamed at him.
     Gathering his enormous strength, his evil grin a grimace, Brown's 
left fist swung up.  He hit Sheila a crushing blow on the side of her 
jaw.  Her head snapped back, breaking her neck, and she slumped back on 
the seat of the Jeep.
     They found them after a five-hour search.
     When it was realised that Logan wasn't heading for Jacksonville, 
Jenner had diverted his men to search the forest.
     Perry and Ross sat in the patrol car, listening to the police 
radio.  Finally a voice came through.
     'We've located the Jeep,' jenner said, and gave directions.
     Ross set the car in motion and, after a few minutes, drove up the 
dirt road.
     Perry sat still, his heart thumping.  Ross pulled up where Carl 
Jenner was standing.  'It's over,' Jenner said.
     Perry scrambled out of the car.
     'My wife7' 'I'm sorry, Mr Weston.  Better not go up there,'Jenner 
said quietly.
     Perry brushed by him and ran the few yards to the wrecked Jeep.
     Several State police were standing around.  They just stood, 
watching.
     Perry reached the Jeep and peered in.
     He saw Brown, his eyes fixed in a defiant glare.  Blood made him a 
horrible and grotesque figure.  Perry's eyes moved to Sheila.
     She Jay back, his gun still in her hand.  In death, her expression 
was almost serene.

     THE END