After a while Anne said, 'Yes. I can see that. He had his chance.'
'It sounds ugly,' Raven said, 'Funny thing is, it wasn't ugly. It was natural.'
'Did you stick to that game?'
'No. It wasn't good enough. You couldn't trust the others. They either went soft or else they got reckless. They didn't use their brains.' He said, 'I wanted to tell you about Kite. I'm not sorry. I haven't got religion. Only you said about being friendly and I don't want you to get any wrong ideas. It was that mix-up with Kite brought me up against Chol-mon-deley. I can see now, he was only in the racing game so as he could meet people. I thought he was a mug.'
'We've got a long way from dreams.'
'I was coming back to them,' Raven said. 'I suppose killing Kite like that made me nervous.' His voice trembled very slightly from fear and hope, hope because she had accepted one killing so quietly and might, after all, take back what she had said: ('Well done', 'I wouldn't raise a finger'); fear because he didn't really believe that you could put such perfect trust in another and not be deceived. But it'd be fine, he thought, to be able to tell everything, to know that another person knew and didn't care; it would be like going to sleep for a long while. He said, 'That spell of sleep I had just now was the first for two—three—I don't know how many nights. It looks as if I'm not tough enough after all.'
'You seem tough enough to me,' Anne said. 'Don't let's hear any more about Kite.'
'No one will hear any more about Kite. But if I was to tell you—' he ran away from the revelation.' I've been dreaming a lot lately. It was an old woman I killed, not Kite. I heard her calling out through a door and I tried to open the door, but she held the handle. I shot at her through the wood, but she held the handle tight, I had to kill her to open the door. Then I dreamed she was still alive and I shot her through the eyes. But even that—it wasn't ugly.'
'You are tough enough in your dreams,' Anne said.
'I killed an old man too in that dream. Behind his desk. I had a silencer. He fell behind it. I didn't want to hurt him. He didn't mean anything to me. I pumped him full. Then I put a bit of paper in his hand. I didn't have to take anything.'
'What do you mean—you didn't have to take?' Raven said, 'They hadn't paid me to take anything. Chol-mon-deley and his boss.'
'It wasn't a dream.'
'No. It wasn't a dream.' The silence frightened him. He began to talk rapidly to fill it. 'I didn't know the old fellow was one of us. I wouldn't have touched him if I'd known he was like that. All this talk of war. It doesn't mean a thing to me. Why should I care if there's a war? There's always been a war for me. You talk a lot about the kids. Can't you have a bit of pity for the men? It was me or him. Two hundred pounds when I got back and fifty pounds down. It's a lot of money. It was only Kite over again. It was just as easy as it was with Kite.' He said, 'Are you going to leave me now?' and in silence Anne could hear his rasping anxious breath. She said at last, 'No. I'm not going to leave you.'
He said, 'That's good. Oh, that's good,' putting out his hand, feeling hers cold as ice on the sacking. He put it for a moment against his unshaven cheek; he wouldn't touch it with his malformed lip. He said, 'It feels good to trust someone with everything.'
2
Anne waited for a long time before she spoke again. She wanted her voice to sound right, not to show her repulsion. Then she tried it on him, but all she could think of to say was again, 'I'm not going to leave you.' She remembered very clearly in the dark all she had read of the crime: the old woman secretary shot through the eyes lying in the passage, the brutally smashed skull of the old Socialist. The papers had called it the worst political murder since the day when the King and Queen of Serbia were thrown through the windows of their palace to ensure the succession of the war-time hero king.
Raven said again, 'It's good to be able to trust someone like this,' and suddenly his mouth which had never before struck her as particularly ugly came to mind and she could have retched at the memory. Nevertheless, she thought, I must go on with this, I mustn't let him know, he must find Cholmondeley and Cholmondeley's boss and then... She shrank from him into the dark.
He said, 'They are out there waiting now. They've got cops down from London.'
'From London?'
'It was all in the papers,' he said with pride. 'Detective-Sergeant Mather from the Yard.'
She could hardly restrain a cry of desolation and horror. 'Here?'
'He may be outside now.'
'Why doesn't he come in?'
'They'd never get me in the dark. And they'll know by now that you are here. They wouldn't be able to shoot.'
'And you—you would?'
'There's no one I mind hurting,' Raven said. 'How are you going to get out when it's daylight?'
'I shan't wait till then. I only want just light enough to see my way. And see to shoot. They won't be able to fire first; they won't be able to shoot to kill. That's what gives me a break. I only want a few clear hours. If I get away, they'll never guess where to find me. Only you'll know I'm at Midland Steel.'
She felt a desperate hatred. 'You'll just shoot like that in cold blood?'
'You said you were on my side, didn't you?'
'Oh yes,' she said warily, 'yes,' trying to think. It was getting too much to have to save the world—and Jimmy. If it came to a show-down the world would have to take second place. And what, she wondered, is Jimmy thinking? She knew his heavy humourless rectitude; it would take more than Raven's head on a platter to make him understand why she had acted as she had with Raven and Cholmondeley. It sounded weak and fanciful even to herself to say that she wanted to stop a war.
'Let's sleep now,' she said. 'We've got a long, long day ahead.'
'I think I could sleep now,' Raven said. 'You don't know how good it seems...' It was Anne now who could not sleep. She had too much to think about. It occurred to her that she might steal his pistol before he woke and call the police in. That would save Jimmy from danger, but what was the use? They'd never believe her story; they had no proof that he had killed the old man. And even then he might escape. She needed time and there was no time. She could hear very faintly droning up from the south, where the military aerodrome was, a flight of planes. They passed very high on special patrol, guarding the Nottwich mines and the key industry of Midland Steel, tiny specks of light the size of fireflies travelling fast in formation, over the railway, over the goods yard, over the shed where Anne and Raven lay, over Saunders beating his arms for warmth behind a truck out of the wind's way, over Acky dreaming that he was in the pulpit of St Luke's, over Sir Marcus sleepless beside the tape machine.
Raven slept heavily for the first time for nearly a week, holding the automatic in his lap. He dreamed that he was building a great bonfire on Guy Fawkes day. He threw in everything he could find: a sawedged knife, a lot of racing cards, the leg of a table. It burnt warmly, deeply, beautifully. A lot of fireworks were going off all round him and again the old War Minister appeared on the other side of the fire. He said, 'It's a good fire,' stepping into it himself. Raven ran to the fire to pull him out, but the old man said, 'Let me be. It's warm here,' and then he sagged like a Guy Fawkes in the flames.
A clock struck. Anne counted the strokes, as she had counted them all through the night; it must be nearly day and she had no plan. She coughed; her throat was stinging; and suddenly she realized with joy that there was fog outside: not one of the black upper fogs, but a cold damp yellow fog from the river, through which it would be easy, if it was thick enough, for a man to escape. She put out her hand unwillingly, because he was now so repulsive to her, and touched Raven. He woke at once. She said, 'There's a fog coming up.'
'What a break!' he said, 'what a break!' laughing softly.
'It makes you believe in Providence, doesn't it?' They could just see each other in the pale earliest light. He was shivering now that he was awake. He said, 'I dreamed of a big fire'. She saw that he had no sacks to cover him, but she felt no pity at all.
He was just a wild animal who had to be dealt with carefully and then destroyed. 'Let him freeze,' she thought. He was examining the automatic; she saw him put down the safety catch. He said, 'What about you? You've been straight with me. I don't want you to get into any trouble. I don't want them to think,' he hesitated and went on with questioning humility, 'to know that we are in this together.'
'I'll think up something,' Anne said.
'I ought to knock you out. They wouldn't know then. But I've gone soft. I wouldn't hurt you not if I was paid.'
She couldn't resist saying, 'Not for two hundred and fifty pounds?'
'He was a stranger,' Raven said. 'It's not the same. I thought he was one of the high and mighties. You're—' he hesitated again, glowering dumbly down at the automatic, 'a friend.'
'You needn't be afraid,' Anne said. I'll have a tale to tell.'
He said with admiration, 'You're clever.' He watched the fog coming in under the badly fitting door, filling the small shed with its freezing coils. ' It'll be nearly thick enough now to take a chance.' He held the automatic in his left hand and flexed the fingers of the right. He laughed to keep his courage up. 'They'll never get me now in this fog.'
'You'll shoot?'
'Of course I'll shoot.'
'I've got an idea,' Anne said. 'We don't want to take any risks. Give me your overcoat and hat. I'll put them on and slip out first and give them a run for their money. In this fog they'll never notice till they've caught me. Directly you hear the whistles blow count five slowly and make a bolt. I'll run to the right. You run to the left.'
'You've got nerve,' Raven said. He shook his head. 'No. They might shoot.'
'You said yourself they wouldn't shoot first.'
'That's right. But you'll get a couple of years for this.'
'Oh,' Anne said, I'll tell them a tale. I'll say you forced me.' She said with a trace of bitterness, 'This'll give me a lift out of the chorus. I'll have a speaking part.'
Raven said shyly, 'If you made out you were my girl, they wouldn't pin it on you. I'll say that for them. They'd give a man's girl a break.'
'Got a knife?'
'Yes.' He felt in all his pockets; it wasn't there; he must have left it on the floor of Acky's best guest-chamber.
Anne said, 'I wanted to cut up my skirt. I'd be able to run easier.'
'I'll try and tear it,' Raven said, kneeling in front of her, taking a grip, but it wouldn't tear. Looking down she was astonished at the smallness of his wrists; his hands had no more strength or substance than a delicate boy's. The whole of his strength lay in the mechanical instrument at his feet. She thought of Mather and felt contempt now as well as repulsion for the thin ugly body kneeling at her feet.
'Never mind,' she said. 'I'll do the best I can. Give me the coat.'
He shivered, taking it off, and seemed to lose some of his sour assurance without the tight black tube which had hidden a very old, very flamboyant check suit in holes at both the elbows. It hung on him uneasily. He looked under-nourished. He wouldn't have impressed anyone as dangerous now. He pressed his arms to his sides to hide the holes. 'And your hat,' Anne said. He picked it up from the sacks and gave it her. He looked humiliated, and he had never accepted humiliation before without rage. 'Now,' Anne said, 'remember. Wait for the whistles and then count.'
'I don't like it,' Raven said. He tried hopelessly to express the deep pain it gave him to see her go; it felt too much like the end of everything. He said, I'll see you again—some time,' and when she mechanically reassured him, 'Yes,' he laughed with his aching despair, 'Not likely, after I've killed—' but he didn't even know the man's name.
Chapter 6
1
SAUNDERS had half fallen asleep; a voice at his side woke him. 'The fog's getting thick, sir.'
It was already dense, with the first light touching it with dusty yellow, and he would have sworn at the policeman for not waking him earlier if his stammer had not made him chary of wasting words. He said, 'Pass the word round to move in.'
'Are we going to rush the place, sir?'
'No. There's a girl there. We can't have any sh-sh-shooting. Wait till he comes out.'
But the policeman hadn't left his side when he noticed, 'The door's opening.' Saunders put his whistle in his mouth and lowered his safety catch. The light was bad and the fog deceptive; but he recognized the dark coat as it slipped to the right into the shelter of the coal trucks. He blew his whistle and was after it. The black coat had half a minute's start and was moving quickly into the fog. It was impossible to see at all more than twenty feet ahead. But Saunders kept doggedly just in sight blowing his whistle continuously. As he hoped, a whistle blew in front; it confused the fugitive; he hesitated for a moment and Saunders gained on him. They had him cornered, and this Saunders knew was the dangerous moment. He blew his whistle urgently three times into the fog to bring the police round in a complete circle and the whistle was taken up in the yellow obscurity, passing in a wide invisible circle.
But he had lost pace, the fugitive spurted forward and was lost. Saunders blew two blasts: 'Advance slowly and keep in touch.' To the right and in front a single long whistle announced that the man had been seen, and the police converged on the sound. Each kept in touch with a policeman on either hand. It was impossible as long as the circle was kept closed for the man to escape. But the circle drew in and there was no sign of him; the short single exploratory blasts sounded petulant and lost. At last Saunders gazing ahead saw the faint form of a policeman come out of the fog a dozen yards away. He halted them all with a whistled signal: the fugitive must be somewhere just ahead in the tangle of trucks in the centre. Revolver in hand Saunders advanced and a policeman took his place and closed the circle.
Suddenly Saunders spied his man. He had taken up a strategic position where a pile of coal and an empty truck at his back made a wedge which guarded him from surprise. He was invisible to the police behind him, and he had turned sideways like a duellist and presented only a shoulder to Saunders, while a pile of old sleepers hid him to the knees. It seemed to Saunders that it meant only one thing, that he was going to shoot it out; the man must be mad and desperate. The hat was pulled down over the face; the coat hung in an odd loose way; the hands were in the pockets. Saunders called at him through the yellow coils of fog, 'You'd better come quietly.' He raised his pistol and advanced, his finger ready on the trigger. But the immobility of the figure scared him. It was in shadow half hidden in the swirl of fog. It was he who was exposed, with the east, and the pale penetration of early light, behind him. It was like waiting for execution, for he could not fire first. But all the same, knowing what Mather felt, knowing that this man was mixed up with Mather's girl, he did not want much excuse to fire. Mather would stand by him. A movement would be enough. He said sharply without a stammer, 'Put up your hands!' The figure didn't move. He told himself again with a kindling hatred for the man who had injured Mather: I'll plug him if he doesn't obey: they'll all stand by me: one more chance. 'Put up your hands!' and when the figure stayed as it was with its hands hidden, a hardly discernible menace, he fired.
But as he pressed the trigger a whistle blew, a long urgent blast which panted and gave out like a rubber animal, from the direction of the wall and the road. There could be no doubt whatever what that meant, and suddenly he saw it all—he had shot at Mather's girl; she'd drawn them off. He screamed at the men behind him, 'Back to the gate!' and ran forward. He had seen her waver at his shot. He said, 'Are you hurt?' and knocked the hat off her head to see her better.
'You're the third person who's tried to kill me,' Anne said weakly, leaning hard against the truck. 'Come to sunny Nottwich. Well, I've got six lives left.'
Saunders's stammer came back: 'W-w-w-w.'
'This is where you hit,' Anne said, 'if that's what you want to know,' showing the long yellow sliver on the edge of the truck. 'It's only an outer. You don't even get a box of chocolates.'
Saunders said, 'You'll have to c-c-come alo
ng with me.'
'It'll be a pleasure. Do you mind if I take off this coat? I feel kind of silly.'
At the gate four policeman stood round something on the ground. One of them said, 'We've sent for an ambulance.'
'Is he dead?'
'Not yet. He's shot in the stomach. He must have gone on whistling—'
Saunders had a moment of vicious rage. 'Stand aside, boys,' he said, 'and let the lady see.' They drew back in an embarrassed unwilling way as if they'd been hiding a dirty chalk picture on the wall and showed the white drained face which looked as if it had never been alive, never known the warm circulation of blood. You couldn't call the expression peaceful; it was just nothing at all. The blood was all over the trousers the men had loosened, was caked on the charcoal of the path. Saunders said, 'Two of you take this lady to the station. I'll stay here till the ambulance comes.'
2
Mather said, 'If you want to make a statement I must warn you. Anything you say may be used in evidence.'
'I haven't got a statement to make,' Anne said. 'I want to talk to you, Jimmy.'
Mather said, 'If the superintendent had been here, I should have asked him to take the case. I want you to understand that I'm not letting personal—that my not having charged you doesn't mean—'
'You might give a girl a cup of coffee,' Anne said. 'It's nearly breakfast time.'
Mather struck the table furiously. 'Where was he going?'
'Give me time,' Anne said, 'I've got plenty to tell. But you won't believe it.'
'You saw the man he shot,' Mather said. 'He's got a wife and two children. They've rung up from the hospital. He's bleeding internally.'
'What's the time?' Anne said.
'Eight o'clock. It won't make any difference your keeping quiet. He can't escape us now. In an hour the air raid signals go. There won't be a soul on the streets without a mask. He'll be spotted at once. What's he wearing?'
A Gun for Sale Page 14