The Snatchers

by Lionel White

  could and did plan.

  And now it seemed that he was being faced with a circumstance that he had utterly failed to consider. He had, of course, known all along that the girl would have to be taken at the same time the child was snatched. And in his subconscious, he realized the potential danger in turning her free once the ransom was collected.

  The possibility of murder as such failed to upset his peculiar, twisted consciousness. If, in the past, he had had to kill in the consummation of a crime—well, he had looked at it impersonally, as a part of the risk he took in being a professional criminal. But this was, somehow, something different. He felt, watching the girl, strangely upset.

  “Look,” he said. “I have nothing against you personally.” And then, as he realized what he had said, he was more than ever surprised. He walked over to Terry and again held out the pack of cigarettes.

  “Better take one,” he said. “Maybe you’d like a drink?”

  Terry stared at him as she reached for a cigarette.

  “I’d like some coffee,” she said. And then she added slowly, “You aren’t like those others in there, are you? What makes a man like you—”

  “Never mind a man like me,” Dent interrupted her, his voice harsh and forbidding. “Never mind about me. Just see you don’t make any trouble. I’ll send Pearl in with the kid and have her bring you some coffee. You better take it easy for now.”

  He turned on his heel and left the room.

  A few minutes later the child was once more playing on the floor with the kitten. Terry’s cigarette had burned down almost to her fingers and she sat with the coffee cup in her hand staring at the floor with an odd, almost blank expression on her face. Suddenly she realized Janie was trying to attract her attention.

  She shook her head to clear it and automatically smiled at the youngster.

  “What, honey?” she asked. “What did you say?”

  “They’re funny people, Terry. Aren’t they funny people?” Janie said. “Why do they always seem so mad about everything?”

  Terry did what she always did when the child seemed upset. At once she submerged her own feelings and her own fears.

  “Why, baby,” she said, “of course they’re funny. Don’t you see, honey, it’s like in a game? You know, like playing cops and robbers. But you don’t want to be afraid of them. They gave you that nice kitty, now, did-

  n’t they?”

  Janie looked at her for a second, her eyes wide and serious. Then she smiled and nodded, her hand going out to stroke the kitten’s back.

  “Yes,” she said, “they did bring the kitty. But do Daddy and Mamma know it’s a game?”

  “That’s right, honey,” Terry said. “Sure they know it’s a game. And pretty soon Daddy will bring a lot of money to pay for the kitty and then you can go home and the game will be all over.”

  “And will I win?” Janie asked.

  “You’ll win, honey.”

  Chapter Nine

  After returning to the living room of the hideout and telling Pearl to take some coffee to the girl, Dent walked over to Gino and asked how he felt.

  Gino looked up at him dumbly for a minute. When he spoke, his voice was a thin whisper.

  “I’m sick,” he said. “That rat tried to kill me. I should have a doctor.”

  “You’ll be all right in another day or two,” Dent said. “Just take it easy.”

  He turned to Fats, who, after tossing restlessly for an hour in the upstairs bedroom, had found that sleep escaped him and had returned to the living room.

  “I think,” he said, “we better postpone your going into town until tomorrow. I hope this don’t set us back with our plans, but we gotta have Gino on his feet when the payoff is made. We can’t take any chances on him being laid up.”

  Fats nodded. “Why not have Red or Pearl take me in today anyway?” he said.

  “It’s better you stay under cover,” Dent said. “Stay around tonight and Pearl can drive you in early tomorrow morning. You better get some rest.”

  “I can’t sleep in the daytime,” Morn said. “I’ll just sit here and read the scratch sheet to Gino.”

  “O.K.,” Dent said. “Watch things. I’m going upstairs and hit the sack for a couple of hours. Anything breaks on the radio, let me know at once. And keep an eye on that guy fishing down on the beach. I can’t tell from here, but I think it’s that cop who drove us out last night. He was fishing there before.”

  Fats Mom nodded and unfolded the paper to the racing section as Dent turned and started up the stairs.

  He was lying flat on his back, his hands under his head and staring up at the ceiling, when Pearl entered the bedroom. He had stripped to his shorts and lay on top of the blanket, a small kerosene stove in the corner keeping him warm. The shades were drawn and the room was dim.

  Pearl entered without knocking. She saw Dent lying there and wasn’t sure whether or not he was sleeping. Quietly she turned and closed the door.

  “You awake, Cal?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I’m awake.”

  Pearl walked to the side of the bed and sat next to him. She took out a pack of cigarettes and lighted two of them, handing him one.

  “Where’s Red?” Dent asked.

  “He’s still out in the barn,” Pearl said. “Decided to do a grease job on the car after I told him we changed plans and weren’t using it today.”

  Dent nodded.

  “I got tired of listening to those two downstairs,” Pearl said. “My God, how crazy can you get? They sit there doping horses and neither one’s got a dime down on a race or any way of getting one down.”

  Dent laughed thinly. “That’s horse players for you,” he said. “They just like to lose, whether they got a bet or not.”

  “Well, I can’t take much more of them,” Pearl said. “That little louse Gino is bad enough, but at least he don’t smell. The other one—well, I just can’t stand the way he keeps looking at me. What’s wrong with him, anyway? My God, the way he looks at a girl, you’d think at least he’d take a bath and clean himself up once in a while. What’s wrong with him, anyway?”

  “He just looks,” Dent said. “That’s his trouble, he can’t do anything but look.”

  “Well,” Pearl said, “they sure make a good pair. Him and Gino. Gino can’t do anything except beat ‘em to death. Where’d you ever dig those two up, anyway?”

  “For this job they’re good,” Dent said, his voice short. “This isn’t a tea party. They’re all right.”

  “They may be all right, but I’d like somebody human to talk to once in a while.”

  “Talk to me,” Dent said.

  Pearl reached over and took Dent’s cigarette from his hand. She stood up, crossed the room, and reached down to snuff out both cigarettes in a tin ash tray. Then she came back once more and sat next to Dent so

  that he could feel the warmth of her body against his side.

  “O.K. I’ll talk to you. What about the girl?”

  “What about her?” Dent said.

  “What do we do with her when we leave here? My God, you can’t just let her go. She’ll blab everything she knows and—”

  “So will the kid,” Dent said.

  “Yes, but the kid’s different. They’ll pump the kid, of course, but she’s only a baby, really, and she won’t be able to tell ‘em too much. But that girl’s something else.”

  Dent didn’t answer for several minutes. Finally he turned and half sat up, pulling his knees under him so that he faced the girl.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Once this is all over and we got the dough, we’re going to be as hot as pistols in any case. As far as I’m concerned, I’ll be out of the country in nothing flat. I’m not worried about making a clean getaway.”

  “That’s all right for you,” Pearl said, “but how about the others? Take Red, for instance. You know how stupid he is. Sooner or later they’ll pick him up.”

  “Well, if they do,” Dent said, “you won�
��t be with him.”

  Pearl nodded. “Yeah, but once they get him, or Gino or Fats, it’s going to make it a lot easier to get you and me.”

  “Sure,” Dent said. “But it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other. Kill the girl or the kid and they’ll be looking for us a lot harder than they will if it’s just a case of money—money they know they’ll never be able to trace.”

  Pearl reached over and her hand caressed Dent’s arm.

  “Dent,” she said, “you’re not going soft on that babe, are you?”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Dent snapped. “I’m not going soft on anybody. You should know that. It’s only what makes sense. I’m taking no chances I don’t have to.”

  “Yeah, but once they got you for kidnaping, they got you for the works anyway.”

  “The point is,” Dent said, “they aren’t going to get me in the first place. That’s why I don’t want them looking any harder than they have to. The kid gets back safe, and the girl isn’t hurt, and maybe they’ll forget about it sometime. Kill somebody and they’ll never give up.”

  Pearl was thoughtful for several seconds.

  “How about Gino and Fats?” she said at last. “You think they’re going to stand by while you let the girl go free?”

  “I didn’t say I’d let the girl go, and I’ll take care Qf Gino and Fats.Don’t worry about that.”

  “You take care of everybody,” Pearl said. She leaned close to Dent and the hand that was stroking his arm reached up and pulled his head close to her own. “Why don’t you take care of me, too?”

  Her soft mouth was less than a few inches from his as she spoke.

  Dent, with unaccustomed gentleness, pushed her away.

  “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “But not now. Good God, we can’t have any more trouble. Red may be—”

  Pearl suddenly pushed him hard and started to her feet.

  “Red, nuts!” she said, her voice harsh in anger. “It’s that babe downstairs you’re thinking about. I could see it. I could tell the way you—”

  She stopped as suddenly as she had started.

  Dent was on his feet in a second. One arm went out and circled her waist and he pulled her to him brutally. His hand covered her mouth.

  “Shut up,” he said. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  His lips found her mouth as his hand buried itself in her hair and he held her head hard to him. Pearl’s arms went around his waist as she pressed against him.

  And then, a moment later, Dent pushed the girl away.

  “All right,” he said. “Get out of here now. Get out while you can. There’ll be plenty of time for us once we get this job over. In the meantime, be sensible. I gotta have someone around I can count on.”

  Pearl smiled as she quietly left the room and started downstairs.

  Dent lay back on the bed and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. He breathed heavily. But he wasn’t thinking of Pearl. He was thinking of the girl downstairs, the girl with the flame-colored hair.

  Chapter Ten

  The rain started shortly after three o’clock on Thursday morning. It began, without the fanfare of thunder or lightning, as a soft shower that pattered like the tiny feet of a hundred kittens on the roof of the cottage. And then, along about four o’clock, the skies began to rumble and lightning flashed intermittently, illuminating the dingy interior of the hideout. The wind steadily increased until it reached almost hurricane proportions.

  The tar-paper roofing, which had been used as a matter of economy when the place was first built, failed to keep out the gushing water, and within minutes after the first fury of the sudden storm, both bedrooms upstairs were leaking badly.

  Red refused to get up when Pearl shook him awake, and so she pulled herself out of bed and went downstairs, where it was still fairly dry. Gino and Fats were sharing the other bedroom, and the two of them groaned in their sleep but did not wake up, in spite of the rain-soaked blankets.

  Dent had been lying on the couch, half awake, when the rain first started. By the time Pearl came down, he was up and had a pot of coffee on the stove. As the wind gradually increased and the violence of the storm began to manifest itself, he experienced a sense of uneasiness. He wondered if they were in for several days of it. If so, it would be bad, but at least it would keep people away from the beach and the dunes.

  He heard movement in the room behind the locked door and went over and listened carefully for a few seconds.

  He knocked, and then, not waiting for an answer; asked if the roof was leaking.

  Terry answered that it was, but that she had moved the cots. She said they were all right.

  He was back at the stove and ready to pour coffee when Pearl came into the room.

  “My God,” Pearl said, “this place!”

  She walked to one of the front windows and pulled the curtain to one side. Sheets of water ran down the pane, giving it an odd mirror-like effect. The wind whisding around the sides of the clapboard shanty seemed to threaten to tear the place apart. A sudden flash of lightning made the scene outside momentarily as bright as day.

  “It may be sand to you,” Pearl said, “but it looks like a lake of mud to me. I’ll probably have one hell of a time getting the car out.”

  Dent nodded.

  “Yeah, but she’ll pull through that stuff all right. Only thing is, instead of taking Fats all the way in this morning, I think you better drop him off at Smithtown. I don’t like the idea of being stuck out here with only that other car just in case anything happens.”

  “What do you mean, in case anything happens?” Pearl asked. “I thought you said nothing could happen.”

  “Things can always happen. This weather keeps up, it may bust into our plans. I don’t think a plane could get up on a day like this.”

  “So what about Wilton?” Pearl asked.

  “He waits.”

  “Wait, yeah,” Pearl said. “I’m getting tired of waiting. A couple of more days like this and I’ll be blowing my top.”

  “Take it easy,” Dent said. “Sit down and have some coffee. Don’t start getting jittery at this stage of the game. Everything has been going fine

  up to this point. The weather is a break, in one way. Keeps people in-* doors. And I had a radio report just before you came down. It’s expected

  to clear sometime late this evening.”

  Pearl pulled her dressing gown closer around herself and stood with her back to the fireplace. She coughed a little as the wood smoke now and then escaped into the room. Her eyes were red and smarting.

  Dent handed her a cup of coffee and pulled up two straight-backed chairs.

  “The kid’s awake in the next room,” he said. “You wanna take her in a cup?”

  “The hell with her,” Pearl said.

  Dent shrugged and put his own cup to his lips.

  At seven, as Dent was twisting the dial to cut into an early news program, Fats staggered downstairs, looking as though he had slept in his clothes, which he had.

  “What a dump!”

  “Coffee?” Dent asked.

  Fats nodded and slouched over to the fireplace.

  Dent waited until he had the coffee in his hand before he started talking.

  “Got a weather report a few minutes ago,” he said. “Looks like this is going to keep up all day.”

  Fats walked over and tried to look out of the window. “Won’t no planes get up in this,” he said.

  Dent nodded. “That’s what I figure. She may clear by afternoon, but hell, that’s taking a chance. I think we better postpone everything until tomorrow. We can do it then just as well.”

  Fats put his cup back on the table and took out a cigar. He chewed off the end and spat it on the floor and then lighted up from a twist of paper that he put into the fireplace.

  “So what do I do?” he asked. “Hang around here all day?”

  Dent shook his head.

  “No,” he said. “I think you bet
ter go on in anyway. Only don’t go into New York tonight. Get off in Jamaica and take a train to Brooklyn. Stay there overnight and then go to New York in the morning. Get there by nine-thirty and make your call at ten. In a way, this will work out better, anyhow. You got more time. All you have to do is be careful and keep out of trouble.”

  “And how about tomorrow,” Fats asked. “Suppose the weather stays like this? Then what?”

  “It won’t,” Dent said. “It’s supposed to clear tonight. But if worst

  comes to worst, we just postpone another day.”

  “And how will you know? How will you know if Wilton...”

  Dent shrugged. “If you aren’t back here tomorrow afternoon by four, we’ll know, all right.”

  Fats walked to the couch and fell on it heavily. “And I handle it exactly the same way tomorrow, then?” he said. “The same way, right?”

  “Right,” Dent said. “You got everything straight now?”

  Fats nodded.

  “We better go over it in any case. Tell me again exactly what you do, just so there won’t be any hitches.”

  Fats grunted. “I got it all straight.”

  “It won’t hurt to be sure,” Dent said.

  The round little man looked sour. “All right,” he said. “I go to the messenger service in Penn Station. I give ‘em the two letters and pay them to deliver them at once. And then, at ten o’clock, I make the telephone call. Once I got Wilton on the wire, I ask him if he’s got the money. He says he has and then I tell him to duck the cops, grab a cab, and go to the Waldorf and pick up a letter at the desk addressed to G. H. McGuire. I hang up.”

  Dent shook his head.

  “Goddamn it Fats, that’s what I mean. You’re forgetting something. You gotta do this perfect. You can’t screw it up at all, or the whole thing flops.”

  Fats looked at him silently for a moment, his eyes as expressionless as a pair of soft-boiled eggs.

  “You have to identify yourself,” Dent said.

  “That’s right. I tell him the kid’s Teddy bear is named Puggsy.”

  Dent nodded.

  “And the bags?”