by Gil Brewer
Gary felt Arlene’s gaze on him. He glanced toward her and her eyes were appealing to him to do something. He looked away.
Kryder began dialing on the phone. Then he sat there, watching them soberly as he waited for someone to answer on the other end of the line.
Arlene came off her chair and ran toward the bedroom. “I can’t listen,” she said.
Gary rose and slowly followed her. When he walked into the room, he was startled to see her lying face down across the bed. For a moment he thought she was crying, and he instinctively wanted to help her. But as she turned to look at him, he saw she was just angry. Her whispered curses reached him.
“Come here,” she said. “Quick, damn it!”
He sat on the bed and she reached up, pulled him down beside her. She was nervous and excited, breathing fast. “You’ve got to jump him, somehow,” she said. “It’s the only way. You’ve got to!”
“Sure.”
“I mean it. Can’t you do something?”
“Dunn?”
It was Kryder. Gary got up and went into the living room again. He felt as if he were half asleep, as if all of this couldn’t possibly be happening. He looked at the man on the studio couch.
“You’re going to make the call to Harper, now, Dunn.”
“I thought you were calling. Shouldn’t we wait?”
“Changed my mind. I want you to state the ransom, tell him Arlene’s all right. Don’t tell him any figures yet. Just tell him to start getting the cash ready. Tell him to call the cops off, or his daughter’ll get it. Got that?”
“Suppose I don’t?”
“Here’s the phone, Dunn. Get started. Do it just like she planned before. Come on.”
“Suppose they trace the call?”
“They won’t. I wouldn’t chance it if I thought they would. Just tell him and hang up. Tell him you’ll contact him again, soon. Be reassuring about the kid, but keep it cold and nasty, just the same.”
Kryder handed Gary the phone and told him the number.
“It’s rich,” Kryder said, half to himself. “It’s positively rich! Right under their noses. Not thirty miles from town, even.”
His hand moving to the dial, Gary thought of trying to phone Doll instead—maybe faking a wrong number to Kryder. But the other man kept his eye on the dial. He was taking no chances….
Franklin Harper himself answered the call.
Gary wanted to yell out the truth. Harper was a broken man, the truth evident in his tone. His voice was worried, pleading, old, forlorn. He asked Gary please to wait, to keep any harm from his daughter. She was all he had. There was nothing else. He was willing to pay anything for her safe return—anything at all. Only see that she was kept safe. Gary told him what he had to, but he couldn’t stand listening to the man. He hung up.
“Now, was that so difficult?” Kryder said.
“You’re a vile son of a bitch,” Gary said. He looked down at the floor. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t difficult. It was easy.”
Kryder walked over to Arlene, reached out and ruffled her hair. “What you thinking about?” he said. “How to slit my throat, because I did you out of yours? Too bad, honey. Ever stop and think how you’re really in it now? Not just playing around—you have been kidnaped, Miss Harper.”
She turned her face up to his, her red mouth a straight gash across her face, her eyes bitterly gleaming. They looked at each other steadily for some time.
“We’ll never know if you’d have gone through with it when the time finally came,” Kryder said. “Will we? Not now.”
Gary watched them. He recalled the revolver in the glove compartment of the Ford. If he could somehow reach it and get the drop on Kryder first—it was the only way.
Only what then?
He didn’t know what then. Kill him. There was nothing else to do; either that, or hold him under the gun until he could summon the police. It was fine thinking; like counting and spending the million you haven’t got. He wanted to strike out against the turmoil inside him, but there was no way. And if he shot and killed Kryder, how much better off would he be?
Because she’d go right along the way she’d planned. He felt sure of that. He sensed something radically wrong with the girl. Kryder was wrong. She hadn’t been just playing around; she’d meant everything she’d attempted to do.
The gun out there was a part of the choice, actually. And he knew he’d have to make that choice. Go on, and Kryder would sooner or later kill them. If he got Kryder first, he could take the next thing next.
He didn’t want to die. He knew what he had to do. He had to reach that car.
Slow beginnings of tension began to work in him. He became consciously watchful now, waiting his chance. As he looked at them over there, he wished he could read her mind. There was no telling what she’d do. He knew he’d have to take her into his confidence. Between them they might be able to work it. He knew she would go for anything that might help them get rid of the man. Only he knew he couldn’t trust her.
“You’re a hot little piece,” Kryder was saying to her. “Real hot; I’ve watched you work.”
“Shut your dirty mouth.”
Kryder flung his head back and laughed. He reached down and grasped the flare of her open blouse, tore it back across her shoulder, exposing her breast. She did not move, only her face became expressionless and she seemed to be looking inwardly upon herself with a kind of baleful patience. Kryder stood above her and studied his handiwork. He reached out and caressed her breast, watching her eyes.
“Seems to be holding up well,” he said. “Considering.”
Gary wished there were some way to help her. He knew she was going through hell with the man, and even though she was no sheltered virgin, he hated to see any woman treated as Kryder was treating her. The man enjoyed inflicting physical punishment on her. It had shown in the way he spoke to her. He kept worrying her, unable to leave her alone.
“You like it?” Kryder asked her, his hand busy.
Suddenly her head whipped down, her hands out, clawing. She grabbed Kryder’s arm and sank her teeth into his wrist. Gary saw her twist her head, biting savagely, like an animal.
Kryder said nothing. He balled his left fist and swung. It caught her on the side of the head and her teeth ripped from his arm. She crashed off the chair onto the floor, legs flailing.
Kryder looked at his arm musingly.
“Bit clean through the skin, the little minx.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Better wash it out—might get hydrophobia.”
He strode through the bedroom into the bathroom and Gary heard the water running.
Arlene rose unsteadily, holding her head. She pulled the blouse up over her shoulder, but didn’t fasten it. Gary went over to her. “I know it hurts,” he said. “But don’t egg him on. He’s apt to hurt you, and I might not be able to stop him. Listen, I saw that gun in the car. If I can just get to it, I think we’ll make it all right. There’s no use trying anything without the gun.”
Her eyes brightened. “Oh, God, yes—try!”
“Going to. I may need your help.”
“Yes—anything. He’s a brute, Gary—he’s insane.”
“Yeah.” He looked at her, the twist of her lips, the beautifully clear eyes and he knew very well what she was thinking. If Kryder was nuts, Arlene was a perfect match for the man. She was thinking only of that money, of trimming her father for all she could manage. There was even the chance that she had very much enjoyed what Kryder did to her.
“He’s going to kill us,” she said.
“You are frightened then?”
“Of course, you fool! What a thing to ask.”
“Well, hang on—we’ll do something.
“You haven’t done a hell of a lot yet. All you’ve done is walk around and mope.”
“Let’s not argue. But thanks.” He looked at the side of her head. A bruise was showing already where Kryder socked her on the temple. On the other side of her face a greenish w
elt was in evidence, where Kryder had previously whacked her. Gary touched it with his finger and she winced. “Just don’t egg him on,” he said. “Let him do what he wants. He won’t hurt you that way, maybe. He’s apt to flip and really bust you one, you try biting him again.”
She said nothing, staring over his shoulder. He heard Kryder laugh softly.
“He’s right, Arlene. I got half a notion to slug you right now.”
Gary turned and stared incredulously at the man. Kryder ignored him, walked over to the porch door, flung the inner door open. When he looked at them, his eyes were bleakly hard, the dull crimson light from the lamp glowing in a pattern of planed shadows across his face.
“Going outside,” he said quietly. “Take a look around.” He paused. “One thing. I’m going to keep an eye on the place, here, so use your heads, don’t try anything foolish.”
Arlene moved into the bedroom and Gary heard her flop on the bed, the springs gently squeaking.
“You get your kicks beating up women?” Gary asked.
“Maybe. What’s it to you?”
They watched each other and Gary saw Kryder’s eyes haze slightly with thought. He scratched his chin, ran his fingers through the iron-gray hair. “I can’t make up my mind,” he said. “Whether to get rid of you two right away, or wait a while.”
Gary said nothing. The man was lying, he could tell. Kryder was fighting some kind of battle with himself, deep inside. He watched as Kryder turned, kicked the screen door open, and stomped off the porch.
He went back and stood in the bedroom doorway. For all her hellish ways, Gary found himself with some respect for Arlene Harper because of the way she’d acted. He knew that she must have had a rotten life. He supposed that her father had made many mistakes, and perhaps a lot of the things she’d mentioned had been true. Harper could easily be the type who figured he could buy happiness for his daughter. He was willing to bet that Harper was doing a good deal of thinking right now. A person couldn’t be all bad, though Arlene seemed to make a direct attempt at just that.
He moved across to a window at the rear of the living room and peered outside. The darkness was pale out there, but light from the living room reflecting on the dirty screen and windowpanes obscured his vision. He hurried to the bedroom.
“Sit tight,” he told her. “Hold your breath. I’m going to try something.”
She rolled over on the bed and looked at him. Her mouth broke into a smile, and she looked a luscious armful lying there. An armful of hell. It was hard to imagine what they were going through when he looked at her. Then he remembered Doll, like a pain in his chest. He cursed softly and turned away.
“Isn’t there something I can do?” she called.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just hold your breath, and be quiet.”
“Be careful, honey.”
That nearly stopped him again, but he moved through the living room, over to the window looking onto the porch. Peering through, he saw a shadow moving through the pines. It was Kryder. Gary slipped to the side window, leaning against the screen. He could see the Ford back there toward the rear of the house, parked in close. If only there were a back door, where a back door should be, it would open almost directly onto the car. There wasn’t.
He watched Kryder move down toward the lake, then circle back. He wondered where Kryder’s car was. He closed his eyes, trying to accustom them thoroughly to the darkness out there, cupped his hands around them at the screen, then looked between the trees, up the dirt road. He thought he saw the stark shadow of the Dodge sedan parked well in against a clump of palmetto.
He looked again for Kryder, but couldn’t see the man. He had vanished. Anger touched him. The trees were thickly growing out there, and the night was a black one. Stars shone, but there was no moon tonight. He was thankful for that. A Florida moon could look as if it sat directly over your head, so bright you could often read a newspaper by its light.
Carefully, he moved to the porch door, opened it against the rusty squeal of the spring. He held the spring, pushed the door wide enough to slip through, and was outside.
Mosquitoes swarmed buzzing, circling viciously, driving at him. Croakers worked overtime down by the lake and now and again a splash reached him. He worked close in against the side of the porch against bushes. All he had to do was step on a snake, or have a prowling scorpion whip his stinger into an exposed ankle. He kept low, so as not to be outlined against the light inside the cabin.
He saw nothing of the other man. The night was quiet save for the roofing chorus of insects, frogs, crickets. He reached the side of the house and saw his car back there.
If he could reach it and get the door open, that much. After that, he didn’t care. Kryder had a gun. But if he had one too, he stood a chance. Gunfire would bring people running, probably, but it was one hell of a lot better than dying.
For a moment he paused, realizing the predicament. Mosquitoes gnawed and stung and the bites began to itch. It seemed as if every mosquito in creation had set upon him. Moving his hand, he actually felt them winging thickly in the darkness.
If he got Kryder somehow, he still wasn’t out of it. For a stilled instant it seemed as if he’d burst inside with what was happening. He was caught, there was no escape, no ending.
And Kryder might very well be out there some place watching him, perhaps even sighting on him with his gun. He doubted that in this darkness. He moved along the side of the cabin toward the car. Three slash pines stood between him and car. He rounded the first, started toward the second, moving fast and silently on fallen needles.
“Got you!” Kryder said.
Gary whirled. For an instant he thought Kryder had sneaked up on him, but immediately knew different. He heard wild scuffling just beyond the corner of the house, past the car.
“Let me go!” a woman cried.
“Sure, lady—sure!”
Gary moved quickly toward the car.
Kryder appeared around the corner of the house, holding someone who struggled. Gary ducked, but Kryder saw him.
“Just stand right there, Dunn!”
“Gary!”
It was Doll. And even as he moved toward them, Gary saw Kryder hold Doll away from him in the dim starlight and strike her harshly with the flat of his hand. Doll fell against the side of the cabin.
Gary rushed at Kryder. He heard the porch door slam. Kryder clawed for the gun in his hip pocket, but Gary was on him before he could draw.
TEN
GARY slugged the man twice in the stomach, and it was like slamming against a wall. Kryder lunged back at him, straight-arming, and Gary staggered with the blow.
Again he saw Kryder claw for the gun in his hip pocket. “You’re a fool!” the man said.
Gary ran at him. He heard Doll scream. Angry elation drove through him. Doll must have come of her own accord. Maybe she had found out something. He had to get Kryder.
The fist that jarred him this time was followed by a merciless rain of blows. He stumbled backward, and Kryder came at him, his bull-like face swimming in front of Gary’s eyes.
“You’ll learn,” Kryder gasped. “You’ll learn!”
Gary swung a roundhouse with everything he had. Somehow it got through and he felt the bone of his knuckles meet the bone of Kryder’s face. He drove in, following it up as Kryder’s guard fell.
They tripped and sprawled to the ground, rolled across the pine-needled floor, thrashing.
“Get his gun, Gary!” Doll called.
He wanted to see her, call to her in the darkness, but only angry confusion swept his mind. In that moment, Kryder’s hands grabbed his throat and the sudden blinding pressure scared him. He knew the man would kill. He kicked at him and Kryder’s hands loosened. Kryder fell back on the ground, hugging his stomach, rolling away.
Gary leaped on him. Kryder rolled hard, grappling, and Gary’s head slammed against the fender of the car. He felt the sharp metal knife into his skull and bright pain lanced through his head.
Kryder began slugging him, his fists smashing at Gary’s head. Gary tried to cover but it was useless. He leaned into the fists, drawing on muscle-power that had long lain dormant. He saw now that he’d been leading a soft life and realized through blinding pain, that Kryder was in top condition, hard as hickory. It seemed no matter where he hit him, his fists met cabled strength.
Pulling way, he stood leaning against the sedan, warm blood soaking down over his right eye. As Kryder came in at him, he kicked hard. The side of his foot caught the man in the throat and he fell back, slipped and crashed to the ground. Gary saw Doll rush from the side of the house and Kryder saw her, too, coming up in a crouch to meet her.
“Get back!” Gary yelled.
Kryder hunched forward, swept Doll aside with a single swipe of his arm and ran head down at Gary. Gary stepped aside, lifted his fist and caught the man full in the face.
Kryder slammed against the side of the car, reeling.
“Stay out of the way,” Gary snapped at Doll, and went at the man again. He lashed out with everything he had, but already his arms were leaden and he began to sense that it was useless.
“You bastard,” Kryder whispered. “I’ll kill you, so help me!”
It seemed that Kryder grew stronger with the fighting. He kept trying to reach his gun, but Gary kept at him now. They went down again, rolled under the car and suddenly Gary felt those steellike fingers clamp again around his throat. He felt Kryder’s hot breath and heard his harsh gasping. He groaned with the pain and his arms were useless. Cramped under the car he could get no leverage, but neither could Kryder, who was using only the power in his wrists.
Abruptly, Kryder’s hands loosened and he slid out from under the car, grabbed Gary by the ankle, and hauled him out. Then he stood above him and as Gary tried to rise, kicked him in the face. Gary fell back, pain like a white sheet in which he thrashed and moaned. Again and again Kryder’s foot sought out his face, crushing against his jaw, his forehead, his eyes.
“I’ll kick you to death, you bastard,” Kryder gasped bitterly.
Gary fought for consciousness, still trying to stand. Each time he got as far as his knees, Kryder standing off now. Then the man kicked again, placing the kick as if he were booting a ball.