Читать книгу Held for Ransom - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 8

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After a few minutes’ steady driving, they turned out on a brightly lighted highway and pulled up before a gas station. Neither of the men spoke until after they had driven off. Skippy lay back as still as the proverbial mouse.

“What’ll we do, stick on them back roads?” Sam asked at length.

Mole nodded. “Un-hunh. Silver says we better in case Conne’s got word from Holden and they got anybody snoopin’ on the main stem.”

“Mm! Silver’s just got ideas, I’ll tell th’ world,” Sam expostulated with a superior air. “Holden ain’t goin’ haywire an’ yelp for Conne right off the bat. He figgers he’s smart. If he ain’t countin’ on outsmartin’ Silver I sure am a mug.”

“Says you!” Mole interrupted rather testily. “But we’re ridin’ on Silver’s orders, see?”

Skippy pursed his lips and feigned a long, drawn-out snore.

Sam snorted. “Yeah; an’ now look! This dumb wop goes an’ takes a count. Now, how we gonna know where he lives?”

“Aw, pipe down, Sam. Maybe he does live in High Hills and knows it’ll be all right to sleep awhile. We ain’t gettin’ there before three-quarters of an hour yet. Not at the speed we’re makin’ on these back roads.”

“Yeah, an’ yuh better step on this can plenty, even if we hit the ceilin’,” Sam said glancing back over his shoulder.

“What’s up?” Mole asked quickly.

“Well,” drawled Sam, “maybe I’m wrong, but I spotted a car tail us onto this road from th’ main stem an’ it’s stickin’ tighter’n glue.”

“Think it’s a trooper?” Mole asked nervously. “I ain’t no television shark, Mole. It’s stuck a hunnert feet back right along. S’pose it’s a trooper—why worry? Ain’t yuh gotta license?”

“Sure. But maybe this bird’ll holler for an owner’s card too. Silver says he’s gotta keep under cover here in Jersey so we gotta lose this bird.”

Skippy looked up from under half-closed lids and saw that both men were looking grimly into the mirror overhead. For a few tense seconds neither one of them spoke.

Then Sam asked: “How about th’ plates?”

“I smeared ’em with grease on the ferry so that’s all jake.”

“He’s comin’ closer, Mole!” Sam’s voice was keyed down almost to a whisper.

“Yeah?” Mole’s voice quivered slightly, but Skippy saw that when he shifted into high his hand was steady and he was complete master of the situation. “Here’s where we give her some juice. If they tail us then, I’ll know it ain’t just some Johnnie out with his girl.”

Mole was as good as his word, Skippy found. The high-powered car leaped forward and seemed to skim the surface of the deeply rutted road. More than once he just fell against Sam’s powerful body in order to keep from falling to the floor. However, he kept up his pretext of sleep and emitted several loud snores in the bargain.

Sam whistled his wonder. “Yuh ain’t got no doubt how dumb this prize winnin’ kid is, Mole!” he exclaimed. “He can’t even come to when he’s bein’ bounced all over the car.”

“Yeah? Well, with that trap of yours it’s good we didn’t pick up some snooty kid what could broadcast all we been sayin’ (and maybe what we’ll be doin’ before this trip’s over). Just keep a glim on that mirror an’ tell me if that car’s stickin’.”

Sam looked a moment, then: “Yep. We ain’t makin’ no getaway. They look closer’n...”

“How close?” Mole’s question sounded sharp. “Right on th’ ole tail.”

Even from under veiled lids, Skippy could see the dazzling gleam of the car’s headlights lighting up Sam’s blond head. And, discovering this also, Mole snarled, “Get that cap on, mugg, an’ make it snappy. We don’t wanta jam Silver’n everybody else.”

“Say’s that a trooper?” Sam asked nervously as he obeyed Mole’s order. The cap, peak and all, was pulled down almost over his eyes and when he looked up at his companion there wasn’t a sign of blond hair visible. “Yuh don’t think it’s some wise guy juss showin’ his speed?”

“Notta chance. Wise guys like good roads for showin’ their stuff. But we’ll give ’em a break. I’ll give this can some more juice an’ we’ll duck into the next side road we come to that’s fulla trees.”

“An’ then?”

“We’ll get a nice hidin’ place,” chuckled Mole, “an’ douse our lights. Then if they’re just snooty guys they won’t bother much—maybe not at all. But if it’s a bull...”

“Yeah?”

“Well, ain’t your rod all set?” Mole asked significantly.

Skippy felt suddenly chilled.