The Toff and the Kidnapped Child

by John Creasey

  “Put that gun away, and don’t be a fool,” he said.

  “You’re not going to the police, Rollison.”

  “We’ve got to find your daughter. Do you know where she is?”

  “I know just one thing – you’re not going to tell the police about the Leonis.”

  “Kane—”

  “It’s no use arguing with me,” Kane said, and menace was raw in his voice; Rollison had the impression that he was thinking not only more rapidly but more coherently and lucidly. Kane had been suffering from shock, and at first he had hardly known how to handle the situation; but he believed that he knew now. “I’ve got to be sure that you can’t bring harm to Caroline.”

  “If you shoot me,” Rollison argued, as if dispassionately, “the police will be here within a few minutes. When you’re held on a charge of attempted murder, you won’t be able to help your daughter or your wife.”

  “I won’t be held,” Kane said. “It’s no crime to shoot a man caught stealing from your flat.”

  The gun was shaking a little, because Kane was shaking with tension, but it did not shift its direction, and a bullet fired from it now would strike Rollison in the chest or in the stomach. The danger had built up so slowly that Rollison had not recognised it, but now he knew that it was imminent and acute. Probably Kane had been working up to this; probably he had tossed down those two whiskies so as to brace himself to kill, not just to talk.

  “Don’t do it, Kane,” Rollison said, calmly enough. “Put the gun away, and let us work out the best way to help Caroline.”

  “I know the best way to help her.”

  “If you shoot me you won’t be able to help Caroline, yourself or Eve.”

  Then, Rollison knew that he had made a mistake.

  The name ‘Eve’ had come out unbidden, and it seemed to stab at Kane. He saw the glitter back in the man’s eyes. He saw the way his lips twisted. He saw the gun thrust forward, the forefinger on the trigger. He was quite sure that Kane meant to shoot; that he was simply screwing himself up to do it, and the way Rollison had said ‘Eve’ gave him his final impetus. In a flash of intuition, Rollison realised something which he had not even suspected, which he did not believe Eve even suspected. This man was still in love with his wife, and all his affaires did not alter that.

  The reason did not really matter, either. There was a possibility that he was anxious to turn his back on his old life and start afresh with his wife and daughter, but that was unimportant. He was in love with Eve, and now he hated Rollison – and there was almost certainly a deeper motive for his hatred than Rollison had realised until that moment.

  Rollison’s mouth was very dry.

  “Kane,” he said, “I can prove that I came here to see you – I’ve a man outside.”

  “You think you have,” Kane sneered. “You think you’re so brilliant, but you haven’t a chance with the Leonis. Your man’s gone. Max Leoni knew that he was being followed all the time, let the man stay outside until you came here so that you would think that you would have help handy, and now he’s dealt with him. That’s something you can’t get into your head, Rollison – there’s no way of beating the Leonis. They know— everything.” There was sweat on Kane’s forehead now, and beads of sweat on his upper lip, and he did not appear to notice how Rollison was inching forward to make a desperate leap to thrust the gun away; a leap right or left would not save him. “He told me that Eve stayed the night at your flat, he told me that you behaved more like lovers than like friends, he told me that the quicker you were wiped off the face of the earth the better it would be for me, and by God he was right.”

  Rollison said: “Kane, he’s lied to you all along, and if you believe him now—”

  “I can believe the evidence of my own eyes and ears,” Kane said. “Stay where you are.” He was ashen pale and, although his hand was still trembling, the forward thrust told Rollison that he was on the point of shooting; only a miracle could stop him now, and Rollison did not believe in that kind of miracle. “I’ve got one chance of making something of my life, and you’re not going to rob me of it.”

  Rollison said, suddenly, almost brokenly: “All right, Kane, have it your own way.”

  He saw the glint of surprise in the other’s eyes, and won the only chance he would get: a moment’s respite, while Kane’s tension was relaxed, and when his finger was not touching the trigger.

  Rollison jumped forward.

  Alarm came in place of surprise, the automatic wavered and described a circle, and for an awful moment it was pointing straight at Rollison’s eyes; if Kane fired now he could not miss. Then, Rollison reached him and pushed the gun aside; at the same moment it went off, and the bullet buried itself in the floor. The report sounded deafening, and Kane tried to swing the gun round to shoot again.

  Rollison struck him with a clenched fist to the stomach, using all the force at his command. He heard him gasp with pain as he staggered back. Rollison grabbed at his right wrist, gripped it, and twisted; the gun dropped to the carpet with a thud, and lay close to Rollison’s foot. He did not kick it, but went after Kane, hitting him twice more, making sure that he could not put up a fight. Then he stopped the man from falling, and lowered him into the big armchair; doing so, he knocked a glass off the arm; it fell but did not break.

  Rollison drew back, bent down and picked up the automatic, then put his knuckles to his lips. He was sweating, and felt a sickening reaction; he would never be nearer death, and survive. But there were other things to worry about; Harry Mills for one, and the effect of the sound of the shot on people who lived in the house. Some were bound to have heard it, and there was a risk that someone would send for the police and come to find out about it afterwards. He went to the door, listened, and heard a woman call out shrilly: “Did you hear that?”

  “It sounded like a gun going off,” another woman called back.

  “That’s what it was. Where did it come from?”

  “Upstairs,” a woman declared.

  “I thought it was out in the street,” put in another.

  “No, I’m sure it was in the house somewhere.”

  Rollison opened the door, stepped out and called down in a voice which he hoped was a passable imitation of Kane’s.

  “Hope I didn’t scare anyone. I was cleaning a lamp, and dropped the bulb. No harm done. Damned silly of me. Sorry.” Before anyone could peer up and see him, he backed away. He closed the door with a bang, hoping against hope that the explanation would satisfy them, and afterwards he heard only a mutter of voices. He crossed to the window. Kane was lying back in the chair, still looking dazed; he was likely to stay like that for several minutes. Rollison opened the window and leaned out as far as he could, looking towards the corner, and the spot where he had left Harry.

  He saw a crowd of people, but the Austin was out of sight.

  He felt his heart thumping again, and found himself recalling what Kane had said about the omniscience of the Leonis. He had come up against men like these before; men who considered every move they made so carefully and yet were able to adapt themselves to changed circumstances so quickly, that they seemed abnormally efficient, and were therefore doubly dangerous.

  He turned back to Kane, poured out a weak whisky and soda, and held it in front of the man’s face. Kane eased himself up to a more comfortable sitting position, and sipped. The dazed look in his eyes was gone, and there was hatred in the way he stared at Rollison.

  Rollison asked sharply: “What did they do with the man in the Austin?”

  “I don’t know,” muttered Kane.

  “Get this clear, Kane,” Rollison said. “If the Leonis hurt him, not all the danger to your daughter or your wife will stop me from going to the police. Do you know where to get in touch with the Leonis?”

  “Yes,” Kane muttered.

 
“Where?”

  “I’ve a telephone number.”

  “When I’ve gone, telephone them and tell them I want Harry Mills and his Austin released and outside my flat by seven o’clock tonight, or I’ll be talking to Scotland Yard by one minute past seven. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” Kane said, and went on as if bitterly: “You don’t really give a damn about my wife or daughter, do you?”

  Rollison answered, as if the taunt didn’t affect him: “I’ve known Mills for a long time. Do you know where Caroline is?”

  Kane didn’t answer.

  “Do you know?”

  “Yes,” he muttered. “Yes, but—”

  “You’ve succeeded in doing one thing,” said Rollison harshly. “You’ve persuaded me that I ought to try and get her myself, and not call on the police unless it becomes desperate.”

  “There’s no need for you to do anything! I can get Caroline back—”

  “I don’t believe it,” Rollison said. “I don’t believe they will hand her over for any sum of money. I believe they’ve got you exactly where they want you, and they’ll bleed you and your wife dry. Where is Caroline?”

  Kane didn’t answer.

  Rollison moved towards the telephone, saw the alarm in Kane’s eyes, saw him start to get out of his chair, and then drop back into it again. Rollison picked up the receiver, looking at Kane all the time, and dialled; and as he dialled he uttered the letters and the numerals.

  “W-H-I-1-2-1-2.”

  All the world knew that was Scotland Yard; and Kane, watching his fingers, knew that it wasn’t bluff, and that he had actually dialled the Yard. Rollison waited, with the receiver an inch or two from his ear; suddenly the operator at the Yard answered, and the sound filtered out into the room.

  Kane jumped up from his chair and tried to leap at Rollison, but he was still winded and hurt, and he staggered and nearly fell.

  “Scotland Yard,” repeated the operator aloofly.

  “Superintendent Grice, please,” Rollison said. “This is Roll—”

  “Don’t do it!” cried Kane, and this time he managed to reach Rollison and to clutch at his right hand and the telephone; but Rollison held him off. “For God’s sake don’t do it! I’ll tell you where she is. I’ll tell you, but don’t let the police—”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr Grice isn’t in his office. He’s still out on a case,” the girl said. “I can give you Mr Appleton.”

  Rollison said: “I’ll call later.”

  He rang off, and saw the perspiration pouring down Kane’s forehead. Kane was breathing very hard, too; there was no doubt that he had reached a peak of terror. He was in such a condition that it would be impossible to rely on him; once Rollison had gone, he would tell the Leonis that he had promised to take Rollison to Caroline—

  Did he know where the girl was?

  Was he right about the evil that was in the Leonis?

  They had certainly convinced him of the horrors which were in store for Caroline if he refused to obey them.

  Kane muttered: “Rollison, I don’t care what you do, but don’t tell the police. It will be absolutely fatal.”

  “Where is she?” demanded Rollison.

  “I—I can take you there, but—”

  “Where is she!”

  “For God’s sake don’t make me tell you,” Kane begged. “Why don’t you believe me when I say that there isn’t a chance for her unless we pay that extra money? What does it matter to you if my wife pays? I tell you it won’t make any difference to her – she has nearly a quarter of a million! There have been times when I wished to God she hadn’t, but she has it – and she wouldn’t care how much she paid for Caroline. Why don’t you leave us alone and let us settle this our own way?”

  Rollison asked expressionlessly: “Where is Caroline?”

  “I’m not going to tell you? I’ll take you there, but if the Leonis knew I’d told you—”

  “Kane,” said Rollison, “you’re going to tell me where to find Caroline, or I’m going to the police with the whole story.”

  Kane pressed the heels of his thumbs against his forehead as if the pain at his head and eyes was unbearable, and then he muttered: “You don’t know what you’re doing. If they kill her, her life will be on your conscience for ever, and if—” He broke off, moistened his lips, and then went on: “She’s at a cottage on the outskirts of Hapley. It’s only three miles from the school. They rented it weeks ago. It’s called the Thatch, a little thatched cottage on the Worcester Road, between Worcester and Hapley, just past an inn called the Double Horse, going from Hapley to Worcester. You can’t miss it, even at night; there’s an all-night service station by the inn. But if you try to go there, you’ll be—”

  He couldn’t finish.

  Rollison said: “All right, Kane, take it easy. What you need is eight hours’ sound sleep, like your wife – and that’s what you’re going to get. Come on.”

  “I can’t leave here! They’re going to telephone me later. I’ve got to be in.”

  “They can telephone me,” Rollison said firmly. “Come on.” He took Kane by the arm just above the elbow and made him get up, and then hustled him across the room to the door. He unlocked the door and pulled it open and thrust Kane forward – and Kane almost fell against Leah, who backed hastily away.

  And behind Leah was Max Leoni.

  Max said brightly: “You two weren’t thinking of going anywhere, were you?” He stood at the top of the stairs, so that it would be impossible to get past without pushing him to one side. “Turn back into the flat, Kane,” he ordered. “Don’t let Rollison fool you. The price is too high. Isn’t it, Leah?”

  19

  CHOICE

  It seemed to Rollison that he had never seen such pleading on the face of a woman; nor such agony of mind showing in the face of a man. Only Max was happy, with the broad smile which made his white teeth gleam and which seemed to suggest that he was absolutely sure of himself.

  Leah stepped towards Rollison with one hand outstretched; and for the first time he noticed what small, white hands she had. She looked older, in her pleading, and he felt quite sine that she believed what she said. Her pouty little mouth was trembling, the only colour in her face was at her lips and her eyes, shaded with pale blue.

  “Don’t let him hurt Caroline,” she pleaded. “Don’t get in his way, Mr Rollison. You’ve no idea what he will do if you try.”

  “Or possibly he has a faint idea, being a man of the world,” smiled Max.

  “For God’s sake, Rollison, give it up,” Kane begged. “If you had a daughter of your own, you’d know what I feel like now. If I had a million pounds I’d spend it to save Caroline!”

  “That’s the kind of talk I like to hear,” said Max. “He means it, Rollison – just as I mean it when I tell you that the girl will be on your conscience for the rest of your life if you don’t do what Kane advises.”

  Leah almost sobbed: “I beg you not to fight him any more.”

  And Max beamed—

  Rollison could not understand the man’s bounding confidence and assurance; it was as if he knew that he could do nothing wrong; was certain to win. From the beginning he had been absolutely sure that this was going according to plan: the Leonis’ plan.

  Rollison still had a hold on Kane, who stood a little to one side. Both men and the girl were staring at him, as if determined by their combined will-power to make him give way; for a few seconds, faced with a choice which he hated, he felt almost as desperate as Kane and Leah. Then, gradually, a new mood came. The Leoni brothers had pushed Kane into a corner; pushed Eve there, too; and Leah. They had used a kind of psychological pressure which had terrorised them all, and now Max was trying the same tactics on him.

  He had come very close to success.

  Ther
e was Jolly, there were Rollison’s feelings towards Eve, and there was his own fatigue. There was his anxiety about Harry Mills, too, and the dark and frightening background to it all, the fear of what might happen to Caroline.

  It was Max’s smile which brought about the change of mood and the change of tactics.

  Rollison gave a quick, flashing grin; it did not match Max’s, but it startled him, and obviously Leah could not believe what she saw, for she backed away, as if in alarm. Kane exclaimed, but did not move. Rollison’s smile broadened because of the puzzlement in Max’s eyes, as he said: “Very sure of yourself, Max, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sure,” Max said.

  Rollison let Kane go, and Caroline’s father took a step to one side. Max did not seem satisfied, and he was frowning, the groove between his thick black eyebrows, cutting very deep.

  “Have it your own way,” Rollison said lightly. He seemed as sure of himself as Max, and for the moment he even felt relief from fear. “You can have Kane, you can have Leah, you can keep the twenty thousand pounds and you can even have Caroline – if you’ll take the risk. That’s up to you.”

  Max was staring at him, dull-eyed now; trying to see the reason for this change.

  “What risk?” demanded Kane, harshly.

  “The obvious risk,” Rollison said brightly. “Either you come with me, or I go to the police. If I go to the police, you may harm Caroline, but you’ll throw away your only chance of collecting the money you want – and on my evidence alone, the police would charge you.” Rollison took Kane’s gun out of his pocket, held it lightly in his right hand, and moved towards the head of the stairs. He had no idea at all how this would work out, but Max might realise how deadly it would be if the police were brought in. The man’s smile had turned into a frown, and he did not move, but still blocked the head of the stairs. Rollison kept the gun lightly in his right hand, and went straight towards Max, who looked as if he would stand there and force the issue.