"Walsh, Thomas - Nightmare In Manhattan" - читать интересную книгу автора (Walsh Thomas)

Now, Calhoun said, they had been given something very important to do, he and she. Would she listen to him? It was something she could understand easily, if she managed to get hold of herself. It was this way. She knew, of course, that those men had kidnaped little Tony Murchison, and that two of them had left his clothes in the locker outside; and after that they had mailed the key, most probably to Mr. Murchison up in North Rhinehill, because Calhoun had watched them do it.

They wanted to identify themselves to TonyТs father, Calhoun explained; and they had attempted to do that by leaving the coat and the Uncle Sam pencil right here in Manhattan Depot, in the locker. They must have decided that it would be much safer than mailing the articles from a post office, where a clerk might have remembered and described them individually; and they had probably felt sure that no one would remember two men who had used a public locker in Manhattan Depot at rush hour.

Frances nodded at him. Yes, she said; she understood that. She saw whyЕ She stopped then. The deadness had all come back on her.

She didnТt have to talk, Calhoun said, using with her a kind of awkward gentleness; she could just listen. Those men must believe that they were perfectly safe, and that no one had got a description of them; and of course they must also believe that Mr. Murchison would not get the locker key through the mail until sometime tomorrow morning. So it was quite possible that one of them, or perhaps both of them, would come back to Manhattan Depot to see how things looked around Locker 572. People like that were jumpy; they would want to know if anything happened yet; and perhaps they wouldnТt be able to leave well enough alone. So now this locker was going to be watched all night if necessary by him, and by her too, since no one else would be able to identify the men Ч except perhaps the conductor of Train Number 52. Was all this clear to her? Did she have any questions to ask about it?

She was in no condition to observe that Calhoun himself, around the mouth and eye corners, was beginning to look very strained and miserable; and of course there was no way for her to suspect that during this period Calhoun was finding a good many things to ask of himself, and had much trouble in throwing up the proper sort of defenses against them.

Who, after all, had seen two of the kidnapers, had them pointed out to him, had them dropped into his lap, practically? And who had permitted them to walk out free as air from Manhattan Depot after they had stopped the Murchison car this afternoon, beaten the Murchison chauffeur so badly that he was still unconscious in the North Rhinehill hospital, and then taken a six-year-old child on his way home from school, and probablyЕ

Calhoun would not finish the sentence Ч could not; but Calhoun understood how probable it was that the child had been disposed of during that first dangerous half hour, when everything must have been touch and go between Rhinehill and Chester Falls. After the other two had caught the train safely, there might remain a bare chance that the driver would have been the only one of them to risk his neck by bringing the child somewhere. If, indeed, they had not taken the child immediately, and in the woods somewhere, under snow, got rid of him before even a first whisper of what had happened could be made known to the Rhinehill police.

Calhoun had those thoughts; and now, if not to himself, to Mike Frost and the girl, Calhoun attempted to defend himself against them. He muttered at them, feeling and looking physically anguished, that he had done all he could on this thing. HadnТt he sent Eddie Mather after the big redhead and the other one? And hadnТt Eddie Mather followed them to a Bronx subway station before they vanished on him? And wasnТt Lieutenant Nolan scouring that neighborhood now, with plenty of help, for a trace of their hide-out apartment? They had two chances, Calhoun added thickly, explaining it to the Murchison secretary where he did not have to explain it to Mike Frost; here, at the locker, and uptown in the vicinity of Fordham Road. One of them should work out. Had to! Calhoun found himself insisting passionately.

УTake it easy,Ф Mike Frost said. УNobodyТs blaming you, Willie. Six oТclock was just too late to do anything. IТd say the minute they got hold of the kid Ч Ф

He stopped then, looking uncomfortably at Frances; but she knew how he had intended to finish his sentence. All this wasnТt really happening to her, she thought quietly; not to her, and not to a little boy who had admitted shyly to her, the first time she had ever done any work for his father in North Rhinehill, that he liked her very much because she was pretty, and because she was nice, too. It was the way he had always come out with things Ч shyly, directly. Then why couldnТt she feel something? Why was there nothing but this dead stop in her, this complete mental rigidity which seemed to accept the facts without quite believing in them, or becoming emotionally affected by them?

She did not know. On the cab platform the overhead fans droned on and on with a nagging sensation of insistent and overpowering urgency; but even there the urgency appeared to be in the fans themselves, not in her. Taxicabs were lined up outside in a reversal of earlier conditions, waiting for passengers, and drivers chatted together in small groups, or read early editions of the morning tabloids. It surprised Frances to discover that it was ten minutes past ten; it might, just as easily, have been ten minutes past eight, or ten minutes past twelve. She was watching the drivers when Calhoun muttered suddenly at her that there were men all over the station by this time; and that Conductor Goggins of Train Number 52 was stationed out in the main concourse, watching that part. Everything covered down here, Calhoun insisted to her, in a foolish attempt to convince himself also Ч everything! And all they needed was for one of those fellows, the little one or the big redhead, to come back andЕ

He pushed up his hat; he wiped his mouth; he put his hands on his hips in that ready and aggressive gesture, although at the moment something seemed to be sadly missing from it. Time passed; more time passed. A quarter of eleven came, and people trickled out of Manhattan Depot at longer intervals; and then at five minutes of eleven Captain Rousseau, the head of the terminal police and CalhounТs superior, came out of the depot passage with Inspector Arthur Donnelly and a couple of other men.

Mr. Murchison was one of them. Frances saw him, and Frances made an attempt to go to him, feeling that there was something very important which she had to say or do now; but Calhoun detained her.

УDonТt bother him,Ф Calhoun said, not too steadily. He had recognized that man almost as soon as Frances had. УAnd donТt try to talk to him when he comes in here. You wouldnТt do any good. IТm telling you. Stay with me.Ф

But he was perspiring a little himself; because, if he did not know just how Donnelly had induced the father at last to come down here and talk to him, he knew why. The father would want to pay the kidnapers, and to keep Donnelly out of it; only for those reasons would he have refused to talk earlier on the telephone. And what would Donnelly want him to do now? Talk quietly to the father; show him the boyТs clothes, the Uncle Sam pencil; and make him see Ч Calhoun shifted a little. Of course!

He appreciated the necessity for DonnellyТs action; but at the same time he did not intend to have any part in it for himself. He had one look at a slim, distracted-looking man in the early forties, deathly pale, wearing rimless eyeglasses and a precise businessmanТs mustache; then they were all in the starterТs office, in back of him, and Calhoun could fix his attention the other way Ч on Locker 572.

Apparently Donnelly displayed the clothes first, since a strange voice which seemed composed enough, if very slow and careful in what it said, identified them. The Uncle Sam pencil, Calhoun heard, was one the boy had seen advertised in a magazine, and had wanted very much. Yes. And the coatЕ

There was a little difficulty there. Calhoun detected it, and put his hands in his pockets, clenching them; but Donnelly picked up the slight break before it could gather too much significance.

УWe knew they were,Ф Donnelly said, his voice deeper than it had been a few hours ago, but just as unemotional. УNow, IТm afraid itТs my business to warn you about some pretty unpleasant possibilities, Mr. Murchison. IТll not take time about it. First. The people youТre going to deal with from now on are the kind who never kept their word to anyone, about anything, in their lives. They never have and they never will. They wonТt to you. Will you believe that from me, sir? Will you believe that I know what IТm talking about?Ф

Someone again turned off the lights in the starterТs office. Captain Rousseau planted himself by the door with a detective sergeant; and another man standing beside Calhoun Ч probably someone important on the District AttorneyТs staff Ч began to alternate his gaze between the father and Arthur Donnelly.

There was a brief pause.

УIТm going to pay them,Ф the father said then, still very slow, very careful. УIТm sure you understand my position, Inspector. I donТt want police interference, and I didnТt ask for it. IТll do this in my own way. IТve got to.Ф

УYou havenТt heard me out, sir,Ф Donnelly said. УAll I want you to do now is to promise me one thing Ч that you donТt mean to protect these men. ThatТs what theyТre looking for, remember; thatТs what theyТre counting on. Of course youТll pay them, if theyТll give you a chance to pay them; that should be understood between us right now. Will they give you the chance? That, sir, you donТt know; and that you canТt know Ч not yet, anyway. All this isnТt my idea of it, Mr. Murchison. ItТs GodТs truth. Will you answer me one thing, frankly and honestly? DТye suppose that you understand these men any better than IТd understand so many African savages?Ф

There was another pause.

УPerhaps not,Ф the father said. He seemed to be having a little difficulty with his breathing. УBut I donТt see that it changes anything.Ф