"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 304 - Alibi Trail" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

they'd have an excuse for arresting him. In either case they'd get another
argument and Jerry was just in the right mood to begin it.
Letting his coupe coast so the other car could overtake him, Jerry
allowed
himself to be forced over to the side of the road, where he braked to a stop.
Meanwhile, the siren had chopped off its brief howl in a manner that Jerry
should have recognized as too polite, but didn't. At least he didn't think of
it until men from the other car were crowding up to his, telling him to get
out
from behind the wheel.
That was when Jerry realized that the only similarity between this
contingent and police was the fact that both carried guns.
They weren't masked, but Jerry couldn't see their faces because it was
too
dark. He hoped they were conscious of the fact, because if they were, it meant
they might not decide to shoot. On the contrary, if they thought Jerry was
looking them over, tallying the faces that he couldn't see, they might give
the
blast and be done with it.
One of the group said gruffly: "Let's have that camera, mug."
So that was it, the camera. But if Jerry gave it, then what? Figuring
what
this bunch would do was a problem. It reminded Jerry of the time a squad of
krauts had hemmed him on the fringe of the Battle of the Bulge. While they'd
been figuring whether to take him to the rear or load him with some bullets,
Jerry had taken off past a line of ammunition trucks.
Maybe he could do the same right now, or its equivalent. For Jerry could
hear the wheezing, heavy-plodding chug of a Long Island freight coming along
the track beside the road. Coolly, but in a tone that didn't seem his own,
Jerry said:
"You want the camera? I'll give it to you."
They let him turn and reach into the car. They hadn't much to lose since
three of them were prodding Jerry with gun muzzles and if he'd come around
with
a revolver of his own, it would have been the last thing he did. And Jerry was
deliberate too, not just to prove he was only reaching for the camera, but to
give the freight time to come along.
It was a singular scene with the giant eye of the locomotive flooding
down
the track, yet not quite including the halted cars in the fringe of its
widened
glare. Unfortunate perhaps, otherwise the locomotive crew might have been able
to observe and report on crime by the wayside.
There was a fortunate angle, too.
Easing into the scene was another car, its headlights out, its motor
smothered by the approaching roar and clatter of the train. Its driver was
bringing it into line with the halted ears, but to the right of Jerry's where
hard-baked ground lay between the road and the railway.
A closing door announced that someone was alighting from the ghost car,
but the noise of the door was also muffled by the freight train's clatter. A