The Kidnapper Read online

  “Tough,” I said. “My wife’s the same way.”

  “You got any kids?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Then you know what I mean. What the hell’s the world coming to with these bastards sneaking around, pulling stuff like that? Christ, I’d like to get my hands on that son of a bitch. Hanging’s too good for him.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I told him. And I turned around and walked back, to a smoke shop. I picked up a carton of cigarettes and came out again.

  The squad cars were pulling away. I watched them go, watched the crowd break up. Then I went into a cafeteria in the next block and had lunch.

  I would have liked to have stayed in town all afternoon, maybe see a show or something and take my mind off things. But there wasn’t time.

  Besides, I had to get back out to the cottage. Every minute away from those two was risky. They’d been fine this morning, but I knew that waiting for me to come back would wear them down. That, and the radio.

  I got the car and headed out.

  When I got to the crossroads, there was trouble.

  Four or five cars ahead of me had slowed down, and I could see a roadblock, and a couple of state police cars parked next to it. They had troopers out checking on traffic, both ways.

  There was nothing to do now but stay in line and wait. I sweated it out.

  Finally the car ahead of me took its turn—old man and old lady in the front seat, and the trooper just sort of gave them a nod, so they went on.

  Then I pulled up.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Ste—Stanley Kolischek.”

  “You got a driver’s license?”

  “Here it is.” I’d remembered just in time, about my real name being on the license. He looked it over.

  “You’re the owner of this car?”

  “Yes.”

  “And where you headed for?”

  “Waukegan.”

  “Waukegan, Illinois?”

  “That’s right. I got a brother down there, in Great Lakes Naval Training.”

  “All right. Get going.”

  I turned down the side road, and it was all I could do to keep from laughing.

  Squad cars, roadblocks—what a jerkie deal that was! How could they expect to find anyone, pulling kid stuff like this?

  No, I had nothing to get excited about as far as the cops were concerned—unless they kept that road blocked off tonight, too. but I doubted it like hell. It was all a gag.

  Come to think of it, the FBI was a gag. Now I remembered what the paper had said. The FBI were called in and were standing by. Standing by meant they weren’t operating yet—and I suddenly remembered why.

  Because the federals aren’t supposed to work on a case like this unless somebody crosses a state line. That’s the way the law was set up. So they were on hand, yes, but they wouldn’t make a move until after the money was claimed. Then perhaps they’d go into action, if they figured out I was leaving.

  “I.” Where did I get this “I” stuff? They didn’t know about me. I reminded myself to calm down. Two o’clock, not much time to go.

  Driving in, I saw them both sitting in the front room. I waved and they waved back.

  “What’re you sitting inside for?” I asked. “Nice day out—why don’t you go down to the lake?”

  Then I realized why. They’d been listening to the radio again.

  “We just heard it,” Specs said. “About your phone call.”

  “What’d they say?”

  “How they traced it to the post office, only they didn’t find anybody. I’ll bet you got out of there in a hurry.”

  I laughed. “You lose,” I said. “Matter of fact, I stuck around and watched the fun. One of the cops even asked me did I see anyone. And I said yeah, sure, a little guy with glasses named Leo Schumann. You’ll find him at—”

  “Aw, you’re kidding me.”

  “Sure. And why not? It’s a big laugh, all of it. Those cops, I watched them. They couldn’t find second base. I wish you two had been along. You wouldn’t have a care in the world after seeing those clowns fall all over themselves.”

  Mary looked at me. “They say Warren is going to deliver the money,” she said. “He issued a statement or something, that there won’t be any double-cross. And he made the police promise that if they didn’t find anything by midnight they’d lay off. It was on the radio just now.”

  “Good.”

  “You must of talked to him pretty convincing,” Specs said. “What’d you say?”

  “I told him where to leave the dough, is all. And about my partner, how itchy he was with a knife. That’s you, Specs.”

  “Steve.” She spoke soft and didn’t look straight at me.

  “Yes, Mary?”

  “What did you tell him about Shirley Mae?”

  “I said I’d call him tomorrow.” Now it was my turn not to look at her.

  “And when tomorrow comes?”

  “Don’t worry, I got that one figured, too. I’ll call him. I’ll call him in the morning, just like I said. And I’ll tell him a place for midnight, tomorrow night. That gives us another day at least.”

  “And then what do we do?”

  “Take it easy, one thing at a time! I’ve got a plan, all worked out. Tell you all about it when we’re ready to go. But right now I got to concentrate on tonight.”

  I turned to Specs. “I got a job for you,” I said.

  “What’s up?”

  “I want you to take that heap of yours down to the filling station and gas up.”

  “The one at the crossroads?”

  “No. There’s a little one, remember, just this side.” I sure as hell didn’t want him to go to any crossroads, not with the troopers there. He’d blow his top, sure. “Go to this place and get some gas and oil. Check your water and air, too. I want that car in good shape for tonight.”

  “Won’t you use the Olds?”

  “No. I been thinking it over. The Olds is faster, yes, but I’m going to take a chance Warren and the cops will play ball. Then I won’t have to run. It’s a sure thing, after I’m gone, they’ll try to check the tire tracks. So it might as well be your car; we’d be leaving it anyway, because they’ll be on the lookout for it in a few days—after you haven’t been to work, and they start hunting for you.”

  “You mean I’m gonna lose my car?”

  “We own the new one, don’t we? And with the dough we’ll have, we can buy a dozen cars if we like.”

  “All right, Steve.”

  “Get going. I’ve got things to do.”

  He headed for the garage. I backed out to let him through, then parked. I waited until he was out of sight down the road, then came back to the steps.

  Mary said, “What do you have to do, Steve?”

  “Nothing. But I’m glad to get rid of him for a while. He’s beginning to wear me down. How was he this morning?”

  “All right, I guess. Until the broadcast. Then he got jumpy, you know, wondering if you’d made out okay.”

  “Well, don’t pay any attention to him. It’ll only be for a few days.”

  “But he’s coming with us, isn’t he?”

  “Only until we get south and locate a boat. I don’t want him hanging around on any cruise. That’s just for the two of us.”

  “Oh, Steve, I can hardly believe it. This is all—I don’t know—such a nightmare.”

  “Be seeing daylight tomorrow.” I hugged her. “Remember, there’s always the two of us, together.”

  “I know, Steve. What do you think keeps me going, so far? If it wasn’t for you, I’d be out of my mind.”

  I wanted her to get it off her chest this way. It would do her good, and keep her from handing the same line to Specs tonight. Tonight was going to be bad for them, waiting here.

  And it was going to be worse for me.

  I went inside. “Fix some supper, Mary.”

  “So early?”

  “That’s right. I’m leaving soon as it gets dark.”
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  “But I thought midnight—”

  “I’m going to get set, first. So there won’t be any slip-ups. I told you from now on in this is my show, and I’m running it right.”

  She went out to the kitchen. Specs drove in.

  “Everything set?”

  “Perfect. And I got some magazines, and this paper—”

  “Give me that.” I took the paper out of his hands and crumpled it up without looking at it. “Now listen to me, Specs. I’m serious about this. From now on, no newspapers around here unless I say so, get me? And no radio, either. We can’t afford to have Mary getting upset with all that baloney they hand out. You wouldn’t want her to crack up, go running to the cops, would you?

  “Aw, Steve, she’s not like that. She’s so nuts about you she’d do anything, kill herself even, before she went to the cops.”

  I knew that. But it was Specs I didn’t want reading the papers.

  “Just the same, what I said goes. Here, you can have your magazines.” He’d bought three of them, these two-bit girlie-picture deals. Pinups, that was Specs’ idea of a hot score.

  “Read these tonight while you’re waiting,” I told him. “And just think about how it won’t be long until you’ll be able to climb in the sack with the real thing.”

  The sun was slanting off over the lake now. I walked down to the water for a minute and looked out. Only a few clouds, and it would be a nice clear night. No moon yet, though. I’d used the calendar when I figured, too.

  Looking at the sunset now it was hard for me to remember what was coming. The water was calm, not a ripple. And the air was so still you could hear birds calling from way across on the other side of the lake. It was lazy and peaceful and real.

  Nothing else had seemed real, lately. But this did. It reminded me of when I was a kid, on vacation up north. We used to go to a cottage like this and I’d do a little fishing in an old rowboat they had there. Sometimes I’d get tired and lie down in the bottom of the boat along about sunset and just let her drift. I’d look up at the sky and watch the colors change. I remember I’d wonder, sometimes, what I was going to be when I grew up.

  I would have liked to have stayed and watch some more, but then I remembered what I had to do. To hell with twenty years ago—tonight was what counted!

  Tonight was the night I got the dough.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I drove into the barn at exactly eight o’clock on the head. There hadn’t been a sign of anything wrong, all the way over. No more roadblocks, no squad cars cruising, nothing. I’d taken the back road first, instead of coming straight in, just in case they were over there. But it was clear.

  Now I parked and climbed out. Four more hours to go. That was a long time.

  But I had things to do. I walked down the drive, scrunching gravel, and checked the mailbox. It was empty. I left it open.

  Then I peeked in the windows of the house. There was no glass and I could look straight through to the other side. Nobody there.

  So far so good.

  Something made a noise off in the field, but it was only an owl. I moved back along the path, took out a cigarette. No—it wasn’t a good idea to smoke. It made a light and besides they’d look for butts.

  I checked the barn door to see that I could clear the sides if I had to leave in a hurry. It was all right.

  Then I left the car standing there inside and took a walk down the road. I hugged the ditch. In my blue suit nobody could see me if I had to hide down there.

  I walked all the way to one crossroads and back. Nobody there.

  Then I walked back, passing the house and making another checkup before I went on, to the other crossroads. That was clear, too. It was almost half past nine before I finished and got back.

  Now I tried the woods. I didn’t go in, just sneaked around the edges. It was real dark in there, and awful quiet. But I guessed it was safe.

  At ten I went back to the car and tried to sit down, but I couldn’t hold still. The barn smelled awful, and it was warm in there—oh, what the hell, let’s face it, I was just too damned nervous to sit still. I kept having to go outside; I felt like a kid that has to wet his pants all the time.

  And sweating. I was soaked under the arms and in the crotch, too.

  So I took another walk to one crossroads, then back to the other. It killed time, and I wanted to make sure. I was pretty certain that if anybody was coming to plant themselves there, they’d arrive before eleven. So as to be hidden by the time they expected me to show up.

  I couldn’t see hide or hair of anyone, so I came back again, cased the house once more, and settled down in the car. It was a little past eleven.

  Less than an hour to go.

  I reached into the glove compartment and took out a flashlight. I didn’t intend to use it unless I had to, but I wanted it ready, just in case.

  Then I reached in again, and took out the gun. It was my rod, the one I’d given Specs for the snatch the other day. I owned it about six years, and it wasn’t hot to begin with.

  I didn’t intend to use this, either, but I sure as hell wanted it handy. I checked to see it was loaded and pulled the safety.

  Quarter after. Forty-five minutes to go. That damned owl was screeching again.

  I couldn’t help but hear it, because I was listening for every sound that came along. And I was staring out the door at the road, watching shadows.

  I wondered about the money, now. How could old man Warren get hold of that much cash in a hurry? Well, that was his lookout. He ran this big bank, they’d have a lot stashed away. And he could get some from other banks, he could even send away to towns nearby and pick up the rest today. He’d better have done it.

  Come to think of it, just counting the stuff would take a lot of time. He’d have to have about a dozen people at least, just sitting there and counting it out. Two hundred thousand dollars!

  I’d had to figure pretty close on that, too—just what to hit him for. At first I thought a hundred or a hundred and fifty, tops. Until I took a look at his income tax figures, and doped out what he probably had laid away. He must be worth a half million, anyhow. And two hundred grand was cheap enough, to get his kid back.

  Of course, his kid wasn’t coming back.

  That was tough. But it wasn’t my fault. She did it herself. Hell, you can’t think of everything, you can’t.

  Anyhow, I’d been smart. I’d guessed right about the money. It wasn’t too much. And it was a sweet little amount for a guy like me to latch onto.

  If he really got it, and if he really brought it.

  Well, he would. He had to.

  Quarter to twelve. Only fifteen more minutes. I hadn’t realized how quickly the time would fly.

  I heard it then, far away. The car motor, coming from my left. Coming fast.

  The gun was in my right hand. I switched to the left, so I could stay at the wheel and point it out of the window. I slipped the key into the ignition. I was ready now.

  Then I saw the lights down the straightaway. Coming closer. I had to look, but the lights were blinding me. I looked past them, trying to see what was behind them. Just one set.

  Here it was. But it wasn’t slowing down! It just kept whizzing right by. The dirty, damned double-crosser!

  Then I looked at my watch. Only five minutes to. Of course, what was wrong with me? It was somebody else’s car passing. After all, this wasn’t a private road or anything.

  I settled down again. I watched the radium-paint hand move up to twelve, meet the other hand there. The watch was ticking loud, and I could hear my heart going, too.

  All at once lights caught my eye, on the right. A single set of them again. I heard the car coming, doing about thirty or even less.

  This was it.

  A big Packard nosed along, hugging the side of the road. When it was almost abreast of the farm, it cut down to dim lights, then stopped. The motor was still running.

  The door opened, and a man got out, crossing over. It
was hard for me to make him out, but he walked slow and he was carrying something. He lifted a big package up and shoved it into the mailbox.

  Then he stood there for a minute, just looking at the house and at the barn. I was ready and waiting, in case he moved closer. But he didn’t try anything. I watched him turn around, get back into the car, slam the door shut.

  The car drove away.

  The lights disappeared, the noise of the motor died out. I opened my door, watching the little red tail-lights way off until they winked out.

  I started forward, then changed my mind and got back into the car. I drove down the gravel driveway and turned right at the mailbox.

  Then I slid across the seat, still holding the gun, and opened the door on the right-hand side. I reached out and lifted the package from the mailbox. It was even heavier than I’d figured it would be, and wrapped in brown paper tied with twine.

  I dumped it down in the seat next to me, closed the door, slid back under the wheel and started up. I made a U-turn and cut my lights all the way.

  Then I went back down the drive, past the barn, and headed through the field in back. It was dark there—I had to keep going slow, not more than fifteen. But I came out on the other road at last, turned left and kept going until I could cut over to the main highway.

  Nobody stopped me, nobody was tailing me. It was clear sailing all the way.

  When I got back to the cottage it was 12:45 on the head. The shades were all pulled but the lights were on, and when I turned in I could see the two of them standing at the door.

  I drove past and put the car in the garage. I turned on the light, reached over and ripped at the twine with my right hand. It came loose. I ripped the paper off the top.

  Then I saw the bills. They were in bundles, tens, and twenties, packed just as tight as could be.

  I picked up the package and got out of the car. At the last minute I realized I was still holding the gun in my left hand, had been holding it all this while. I put it away.

  Then I was out of the garage, walking up the path to the door.

  Mary and Specs came down the steps to meet me.

  “Thank God!” she whispered. “You’re safe!”

  Specs stared at the package.