Part 13 (2/2)

”Do you mind if we look inside?” Wand said quietly. He was staring at the girl, wondering where he had seen her before. He had seen her. He was sure of that, but where? ”You are alone?”

”Yes, I'm alone,” Lolita said. ”Go ahead . . . take a look. What are you looking for?”

As Wand started forward, O'Connor grabbed his arm.

”Stop leaning your weight on everything,” he growled. ”We don't have to worry the little lady. Come on, we still have work to do.”

Hearing voices, Collon came around from the back of the bungalow.

”Come on . . . come on . . .” O'Connor said impatiently. He was so relieved that he had escaped trouble, he couldn't get away fast enough. ”Leave her be,” and giving the girl a salute, he started off down the path.

Wand was still staring at Lolita. Then he suddenly remembered where he had seen her. She had been singing and playing a guitar in a restaurant near the harbour. His quick mind told him a girl like her couldn't afford to pay the rent of a bungalow in this district.

She was smiling at him.

”Do you want to come in?”

”Yeah . . . I'm coming in. You lead the way.”

She turned and moved into the bungalow, swaying her hips. ”Some chick,” Collon said admiringly.

”Watch it,” Wand said out of the corner of his mouth. ”This could be it.” He snapped off the safety catch of his rifle. Collon stared at him and seeing his white, set face, he felt a p.r.i.c.kle of excitement run up his spine.

O'Connor had reached the gate. He turned and looked back up the path.

”Come on, you jerks!” he shouted. ”What are you doing?”

Wand moved into the bungalow. Colon, aware now that Wand was more than suspicious, followed him closely, his thumb snapping back the safety catch on his rifle.

”Stay right here,” Wand said softly, ”and cover me. Watch it!”

He walked into the living-room. The first thing he noticed was an ashtray on the table loaded with cigarette b.u.t.ts: only a few of them had lipstick smears.

Lolita turned off the radio. She seemed completely at ease and her smile was inviting.

”Go ahead . . . look around. Can I get you boys a drink?”

”No thanks,” Wand said. He moved past her into the kitchen. He saw three plates in the drying rack, three knives and forks lying on the draining board, and his skin p.r.i.c.kled. He opened the refrigerator and looked at the vast stock of food. He knew then that somewhere in this bungalow were the wanted men. Walking as if on eggsh.e.l.ls, his rifle pushed forward, his finger on the trigger, he opened the three doors, one after the other, that led into the bedrooms. In the main bedroom, hanging over the back of a chair, he saw a man's red and blue tie.

He came out into the pa.s.sage, looked to right and left, then up at the trap door in the ceiling.

Lolita came to the sitting-room door.

”All right?” she asked. The strain was beginning to tell, but she still managed an inviting, convincing smile.

Wand moved forward, riding her back into the sitting-room.

”Okay, sister,” he said, speaking low, ”they're up in the loft, aren't they?”

Her eyes widened for a brief moment, then she forced a smile, but this time it was a lot less convincing.

”They? I don't understand. What do you mean?”

”I know you,” Wand said. ”You couldn't afford to live in this place. You better open up or you'll be in real trouble. They are up there, aren't they?”

Lolita's lips were now pale under her lipstick, but she didn't give up.

”They? I told you . . . I'm alone here. What is all this about?”

Wand walked to the door.

”Get Gutsey,” he said to Colon.

Colon went to the front door and waved to O'Connor who was standing by the gate, waiting impatiently. Uneasily, the fat sergeant came up the path.

”What the h.e.l.l is it now?”

”Take her,” Wand said. ”They're up in the loft.”

O'Connor gaped at him, then he caught hold of Lolita's arm. He jerked her into the pa.s.sage as Mish, listening to all this, gently raised the trap door, aimed his gun and squeezed the trigger.

The gun exploded with a bang that rattled the windows. A red stain appeared on O'Connor's tunic. He went down on his knees, like a stricken ox, his hands clasping his enormous belly.

Lolita screamed and threw herself back into the sitting-room as Colon, jerking up his rifle, ripped in shot after shot through the ceiling.

Mish, hit in the face and through the body, somehow lifted his gun and again squeezed the trigger. Shot through the shoulder, Collon dropped his rifle, falling face down on the floor. Mish tried to regain his balance, then toppled through the trap door, his dying fingers squeezing the trigger of his gun which exploded bullets through the narrow pa.s.sage. He thudded down on Collon as Wand shot him again through the head.

Wand hurriedly backed into the sitting-room, crouching down on one knee. There were two more of them up there, he thought, not knowing that Jack Perry was already dead.

Carefully sighting his rifle at the already holed ceiling, he fired five quick shots into the ceiling.

”Okay, you two,” he bawled. ”Come on down with your hands in the air!”

Lolita, standing against the wall, looked wildly around the room. Her eyes alighted on a heavy gla.s.s ashtray. Without hesitating, she reached for it, took three silent steps up to Wand who was staring through the doorway at the open trap and crashed the ashtray down on his head.

He dropped the rifle, gave a groan and fell forward.

Her heart hammering, she jumped over his body and ran to the trap door.

”Jess! Quick! Come down!” she screamed. ”We can get away! Come down quick!”

There was a pause, then a scuffling noise and Chandler appeared in the open trap. His face was white and his eyes half closed.

”Beat it, baby,” he said hoa.r.s.ely. ”There's nothing more you can do for me now . . . and thanks for everything.”

Blood ran out of his mouth and dripped on to the worn mat in the hall.

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