Ginny joined them.
‘Let’s get the truck out and drive it up,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the road to ourselves and it’s dark enough.’
Bleck hesitated.
‘It’ll be the only way to get it up there,’ Kitson said. ‘Even at that it’ll be rugged going.’
‘Well, okay, but we’ll be sunk if anyone spots us.’
Gypo, who had been standing by the caravan, listening, said, ‘Where are we going anyway? How much further is it?’
‘There’s a wood and a lake up at the top,’ Kitson said, ‘If we can get up there, it’ll be the ideal spot for us.’
‘If we’re going to drive the truck, we’ll have to fix that battery lead,’ Bleck said. ‘Come on, Gypo, do some work instead of standing around like a goddamn ghost.’
By the time they had fixed the battery lead, and they only did it by breaking open the locked bonnet of the truck with one of the crowbars, the Buick had cooled off.
‘We could tow it a bit further, couldn’t we?’ Bleck said, reluctant to bring the truck out of the caravan.
‘Better not,’ Kitson said. ‘The going’s getting steeper. We’ll only boil again and have another long wait.’
Bleck shrugged. He got into the truck, started the engine and backed it out of the caravan.
‘You go on ahead,’ he said to Kitson. ‘Gypo and me will come after you. I won’t use lights. I’ll take the direction from your rear lights.’
Kitson nodded and joined Ginny, who was already in the Buick. As he started the Buick moving, Ginny leaned out of the window, looking back, watching the truck.
They started the climb again. The Buick, relieved of the truck’s weight, climbed majestically and effortlessly.
‘Are they following all right?’ Kitson asked.
‘Yes,’ Ginny said. ‘Go a little slower. They’re losing you on the bends.’
They kept going for another twenty minutes until they came to the washed-out section of the road.
Kitson flashed on his headlamps and stopped.
‘You stay with her,’ he said. ‘I’m going to take a look.’
He opened up the caravan and explained to Bleck that he was going to examine the road.
They looked at the road in the light of the Buick’s headlamps. It went straight up, almost as steep as the side of a house and there were rocks and loose stones scattered about.
‘For Pete’s sake!’ Bleck exclaimed. ‘Have we to go up there?’
‘That’s it.’ Kitson shook his head. ‘It’s going to be rugged. We’ll have to shift some of those rocks first.’
He started up the road, pausing to manhandle the biggest stones, rolling them to the side of the road. It took the three men a half an hour to clear the biggest of the rocks out of the way. The worst part of the road ran for about five hundred yards, then the surface improved.
‘I guess that’ll do,’ Kitson said, panting from his exertions. ‘If we get this far, we’ll manage the rest.’
The three men started down the road towards the Buick.
‘Take it dead slow,’ Kitson said to Bleck, ‘and keep in bottom gear. You’ll have to use your lights. Whatever you do, keep going. If you stop, you won’t get enough grip to start again.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Bleck said irritably. ‘You don’t have to tell me how to drive. You handle your crate. I’ll handle mine.’
‘Let me get up to the top before you follow,’ Kitson said. ‘I may have to have a second shot at it, and I don’t want you in my way if I have to back down.’
‘Okay. Don’t talk so much,’ Bleck snarled. ‘Get on with it!’
Kitson shrugged and went to the Buick and got in.
With his headlights on, he put the gear lever to ‘Low’ and then, with a steady pressure on the gas pedal he sent the car up the slope.
He had a lot of power to help him, but the caravan, although empty, was still heavy and it acted as a drag. Every now and then the car’s rear wheels spun, throwing stones and loose gravel to right and left.
Ginny was sitting forward, staring ahead, warning Kitson of any big stones before he saw them himself. They were moving slower now, and Kitson, gripping the wheel, was muttering to himself, squeezing down on the gas pedal, feeling the car juddering.
Any second now, he thought, we’ll stop and then we’re sunk.
He swung sharply to the right, easing the direct drag, then to the left, tacking in the narrow space that needed all his skill to keep the Buick from leaving the road.
The speed picked up.
The water in the radiator began to boil and the inside of the car was unbearably hot. The headlights picked out the smoother surface of the road just ahead.
‘You’ve nearly done it!’ Ginny cried excitedly. ‘Only another few yards.’
Kitson had kept a little power in reserve for just this moment. He now pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The rear wheels spun, the back of the car moved to the right, then the tires bit, and the car and the caravan lurched onto the made-up surface of the road and immediately began to gain speed.
Kitson pulled up.
‘We’ve done it!’ he exclaimed, grinning. ‘Phew! I thought it was going to lick us!’
‘Well done, Alex!’ Ginny said. ‘That was a fine piece of driving.’
He grinned at her, set the parking brake and got out of the car.
Bleck was starting his run up. He hadn’t the horsepower that Kitson had had to help him, but neither was he pulling a heavy caravan.
‘He’s taking it too fast,’ Kitson said and began to run down the hill towards the approaching headlights of the truck.
Bleck was rushing the hill, his foot flat on the gas pedal, leaving himself nothing in reserve for an emergency.
The truck bounced and banged over the uneven surface, throwing Gypo, sitting beside Bleck, heavily against the side of the truck.
‘Take it easy,’ Gypo gasped. ‘You’re going too fast!’
‘Shut up!’ Bleck shouted. ‘I’m handling this!’
Gypo saw a big stone appear in the headlights of the truck.
‘Look out!’ he bawled.
Bleck missed seeing the stone and the off-side front wheel of the truck hit it and the truck wrenched to the left. Before Bleck could control the truck, it was sideways on to the hill and the engine had stalled.
Alarmed at the angle the truck was leaning, Gypo yelled, ‘It’s going over!’ and he tried to open the truck door, but the angle was so sharp and the door so solid, he couldn’t open it.
‘Stay still, you fool!’ Bleck shouted. ‘You’ll have us over!’
Kitson came running up.
He too was alarmed at the angle of the truck, and he jumped on the running board, adding his weight to the already lifting wheels.
‘Start her up and back slowly,’ he said to Bleck.
‘If I move her, she’ll go over,’ Bleck snarled, sweat on his face.
‘There’s no other way. Take it dead slow with a full right lock.’
With an unsteady hand, Bleck thumbed the starter, then, as the engine came alive, he engaged gear.
‘Let the clutch in gently,’ Kitson said. ‘Don’t jerk it. Start pulling her around as soon as she begins to move.’
Cursing under his breath, Bleck began to let the clutch in. As the truck began to move, he turned the steering wheel. For one horrible moment he felt the off-side wheels lift clear of the ground and he was sure the truck was going to turn over, but Kitson’s weight just balanced it and slowly the truck came around and once more faced towards the steep hill.
As Bleck tried to get into a forward gear, the truck started to run backwards and he had to slam on his foot brake.
The engine stalled.
‘Okay,’ Kitson said, contempt in his voice. ‘Come on out. Let me have her.’
Muttering, Bleck got out. He was glad to give up the wheel.
Kitson looked at the angle the truck was now at and he shook his head.
‘Get some
rocks. We’ll have to pack the back wheels,’ he said and, going to the side of the road, he caught hold of a large rock and half dragged it, half carried it to the truck and dumped it down into the soft soil behind one of the rear wheels.
Bleck came staggering over with another rock and fixed the other wheel.
Kitson got into the cab of the truck and started the engine.
Leaning out of the window, he said, ‘You and Gypo get ready to block the wheels if I stall. I may have to jump her all the way up. The tires won’t bite on this.’
‘Get on with it!’ Bleck snarled, furious with himself for bogging the truck down.
Kitson got the engine running fast, then he released the handbrake, letting the truck settle back on the rocks.
‘Here we go!’ he shouted and gently let in the clutch.
The truck moved forward, skidded with its rear wheels spinning, throwing dirt and stones back at Bleck and Gypo. Half blinded, they turned their backs, shielding their faces.
Kitson tried to hold the truck straight, gunning the engine, but the strain was too much, the engine stalled and he had just time to slam on his brakes, having gained a couple of yards.
Even with the brakes on, the truck began to slide back and Kitson yelled to Bleck to block the wheels. He lost a yard before Bleck and Gypo got rocks against the wheels.
The next time he tried, the other two stood clear and he gained a good four yards before the engine stalled, and Bleck and Gypo rushed up and dumped rocks under the wheels before the truck lost ground.
This went on for a good half hour. Kitson jumping the truck forward while Bleck and Gypo blocked the wheels. Finally, they were within fifty yards of the Buick, but all three men were so exhausted by their efforts, Bleck called a halt.
‘Let the sonofabitch cool off,’ he said, leaning against the side of the truck and panting.
Kitson got out of the truck.
‘Not far to go now,’ he said as Ginny came running down to join them. ‘Once off this, she’ll be okay.’
‘You’re doing fine,’ Ginny said to him.
He grinned happily at her.
‘The tough driver,’ Bleck sneered. ‘The boy wonder, with a way with cars.’
Ginny looked at him.
‘That’s something you can’t claim, is it?’ she said.
Bleck sneered at her.
‘Okay, stick up for him,’ he said. ‘You’re the only one.’
He walked away to the edge of the road, where he sat on a rock and lit a cigarette.
There was a long wait, then when Kitson had decided the engine was cool enough, he called to Bleck and got into the truck. Ten minutes later the truck was standing beside the Buick.
‘I can tow her now,’ Kitson said. ‘Better get her under cover again.’
He drove the truck into the caravan and Bleck and Gypo got in.
Shutting the back of the caravan, Kitson went to the Buick and slid under the steering wheel.
Ginny said, ‘You were fine. If it hadn’t been for you, we’d never have made it.’
She leaned forward and her lips brushed his cheek.
II
The sun coming through the chink in the entrance to the tent woke Bleck. He opened his eyes and stared up at the sloping canvas roof, and it took him several puzzled moments to remember where he was.
He closed his eyes, frowning, feeling the stiffness in his bones from lying all night on the hard ground. Well, at least, they had found a good hiding place, he thought. If they had any luck they could remain up here safely until Gypo opened the truck.
There was a lake with running water, a fair-sized wood that gave them complete cover from the aircraft that patrolled overhead, and they were a good five hundred yards off the road.
No one would believe it possible that the truck could have been driven up that washed-out road. No one was likely to look for them here. Now everything depended on Gypo. If he couldn’t beat the lock, then he must use the flame.
It maddened Bleck to think that he had had the truck in his possession for four days and still the money was out of his reach. He opened his eyes and squinted at his watch. The time was five minutes after six. Then, raising his head, he looked across at Ginny who was curled up, her head on a rolled-up coat, a blanket over her, still sleeping.
Kitson lay between the girl and Bleck, and he was sleeping. There wasn’t much room in the tent, but they all had to sleep in there as it was too cold at night to sleep out in the open. Bleck looked over to see if Gypo was sleeping. Immediately he stiffened and sat up, for Gypo wasn’t in the tent.
For a moment, Bleck felt alarmed, then he relaxed a little, thinking Gypo was probably outside, getting the breakfast ready. But he had to be sure and he threw off the blanket and gave Kitson a hard nudge with his foot, waking him.
‘Come on!’ he said as Kitson lifted his head to blink at him. ‘Gypo’s up already. We’ve got work to do.’
Kitson yawned, then as he was nearest to the exit, he crawled out, blinking in the sunshine.
As Bleck joined him, Ginny sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching.
‘Where’s Gypo?’ Kitson asked, looking around the small clearing in the wood.
Bleck looked over at the caravan, well hidden under the trees.
He looked across at the small lake.
There was no sign of Gypo.
Cupping his hands to his mouth, Bleck bawled, ‘Gypo!’ at the top of his voice. There came no answering call and the two men looked at each other.
‘The creep’s run out on us!’ Bleck said furiously. ‘I should have watched him. He’s gone.’
Ginny came out of the tent.
‘What is it?’
‘Gypo’s gone!’ Kitson said.
‘He can’t have gone far,’ Ginny said. ‘He was in the tent twenty minutes ago. He was sleeping.’
‘We’ve got to get him back!’ Bleck said violently. ‘Without him, we’re sunk! He must be crazy! It’s more than twenty miles to the highway and he’ll have to walk every yard of it!’
Kitson ran to the road and Bleck went with him.
They paused at the edge of the grass verge and looked down the long, steep incline to the narrow zigzag white road, cut into the face of the mountain that twisted and turned down into a haze of mist, covering the valley.
Kitson suddenly grabbed Bleck’s arm, pointing.
‘There he goes!’
Bleck screwed up his eyes. He could just make out a tiny figure moving along the road, a mile and a half below.
‘We can catch him!’ Bleck said. ‘I’ll make him sorry he was born when I get my hands on him! We’ll take the car!’
‘No,’ Kitson said. ‘The road’s too narrow. We’d never turn it to come back. We’ll go down the hill side. That way we can do two miles to his half.’
He got off the road and started down the steep slope, sliding, jumping when he could, but sliding most of the way.
Bleck hesitated. It looked dangerous to him. He started after Kitson, but at a slower pace.
Kitson reached the road, crossed it, lowered himself over the grass verge and started down the slope again. It was now steeper and he had to go more slowly. Once he nearly pitched forward and he only saved himself by throwing himself backwards and then sliding down to land with a flurry of dislodged stones onto the road again.
Recovering, he paused to look down.
He could now see Gypo clearly.
Gypo was jogging along downhill, covering the ground at quite a pace.
Bleck joined Kitson.
‘There he goes!’ Kitson said.
Snarling, Bleck pulled his gun.
‘What do you think you’re going to do?’ Kitson said, grabbing Bleck’s wrist. ‘He’s the only one who can open the truck, isn’t he?’
Bleck’s face was streaming with sweat and he was gasping for breath. Savagely, he wrenched his wrist free and shoved the gun back into its holster. Then he started down the next slope.
As Kitson w
as about to follow, he saw Gypo suddenly pause, stop and stare up the mountain side. For a moment, Gypo stood motionless. Then he started to run.
‘He’s seen us!’ Kitson bawled to Bleck. Then raising his voice, he yelled, ‘Gypo! Stop! Come back!’
But Gypo didn’t stop. He ran on doggedly. His legs felt like lead and his lungs seemed to be bursting.
He now realized the futility of this attempt to escape.
He had woken in the tent and seeing the other three were sleeping soundly, he had suddenly decided to go home. He hadn’t thought that he would succeed in getting out of the tent without one of them waking, but he was urged to try. He had squirmed out of his blanket, then, crouching, he had undone the flap of the tent, stepped over Kitson’s sleeping body and was out in the sunshine, scarcely believing it had been so easy and simple.
He hesitated then. He knew he had over twenty miles of lonely road to cover before he reached the highway where he could get a lift back to his workshop.
The time was five minutes past six. The chances were those three would sleep on until seven or even eight. That would give him an hour’s start - two with any luck - before they realized he was gone.
That decided him, and he set off at a fast walk down the road. He had been walking a little over half an hour and had covered nearly two miles when he heard the sound of falling rocks, far above him.
Looking up, he saw Bleck and Kitson coming down the hillside, sliding and nearly falling, but coming at an alarming pace.
The sight of them filled Gypo with terror.
He heard Kitson yell, ‘Gypo! Stop! Come back!’
He began to run blindly.
He hadn’t run more than a few hundred yards before he realized he could never keep up this pace. Again he looked back.
Bleck was slithering down the slope and, as he watched, he gained the road. Kitson was coming down in a cloud of dust, sliding on his heels, sending a shower of stones before him.
Like a frightened, hunted animal, Gypo left the road and began to rush madly down the slope. In a few seconds, he lost his balance and fell face forward. His hands took the shock and he began to roll over and over.
He came to a gasping halt near the road. Desperately he scrambled to his feet and looked back over his shoulder. At the level he was now on, he realized neither Bleck nor Kitson could see him, owing to the overhanging rocks that screened him from their view. Although he couldn’t see them and he had a feeling of momentary safety, he could hear them and the sound of their movements sounded alarmingly close. He looked around wildly, sure that in a few minutes, they would catch up with him.
1958 - The World in My Pocket Page 19