Entities: The Selected Novels of Eric Frank Russell (70 page)

“I know. Too well for my liking. By the looks of it I’m going to have official company for the rest of my natural life.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” opined Norris. “This rigmarole is only for the duration of the emergency.”

“So it is alleged,” Harper grumbled. “But higher up are a few authoritative coots who resent the unalterable facts of life. They’re not above replacing one emergency with another so long as it suits their power-game to do so.”

He got into the car, sat alongside Norris and returned to the office in silence. He was grouchily aware that when the present crisis ended—if ever it were ended— he would then have the problem of how to get authority off his neck and for keeps. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Morning brought news. Norris poked a head into the office, beckoned him away from Moira’s hearing.

"Things are beginning to break,” he announced. “Firstly, there were two calls to the Baum house during the night. The caller hung up immediately Rausch answered. Both calls emanated from public booths. That means the Baums’ contact man is still in town someplace.”

“Assuming there’s only one of them,” said Harper. “For all we know, there may be a dozen.”

“Perhaps. Anyway, we got identifiable prints out of that warehouse office. They are McDonald’s.”

“Ah! So
he
was waiting there?”

Norris nodded. “We missed him by minutes. Further, we’ve found that he was with the Baums in an hotel one evening. He left with them in Ambrose’s car and hasn’t been seen since. Two waiters and a barkeep have identified his picture.”

“When did he pick them up?”

“Six days ago.”

“Just the time we estimated,” Harper remarked.

“We're searching the locality for him right now,” Norris continued. “If he’s still here today we'll find him.”

“That may prove more difficult than you expect.”

“Why?”

“He doesn’t have to stay at an hotel or rooming house. So you’ll gain little making the rounds of those. He doesn’t have to rent a flat. He doesn’t have to sleep out in the open.”

“Then what does he do?”

“He lives in a private house, as one of the family—having
made
himself one of the family.” Harper eyed him skeptically. “How are you going to search several thousand private homes?”

“We won’t try. There are quicker ways of picking up leads.”

“How?”

“Every street has its gossip, its incurable snoop. We have enough photos of McDonald to check with every busybody for miles around. What’s more, he can’t operate while sitting in a back room behind drawn curtains. He has to emerge sometime. If it was he who called Rausch, he went outside his hole-up to do it. He took a risk and was mighty lucky not to be recognized.”

“How about sounding the drugstores for abnormal sales of eucalyptus?”

“We’ve thought of that. Four agents are on the job.”

The phone shrilled in the office. Moira picked it up, called to them, “It’s for Mr. Norris or Mr. Rausch.”

Norris went inside, listened for a while, came back and said to Harper, “That was Jameson.”

“Anything new?”

“Yes. Langley’s dead.”

“So they caught up with him?”

“He was spotted in a stolen car at dawn. Two men were with him, Waggoner and a fellow now known to be a certain Joe Scaife. They ran up against a roadblock, abandoned the car and took to the woods. Police, agents and national guardsmen dived in after them. Jameson says they put up such a desperate fight it proved impossible to take them alive. Langley and Scaife were shot dead. Waggoner used his last bullet on himself. That was about an hour ago. Their big problem now is what to tell the newshawks.”

“This looks bad to me,” Harper admitted.

“Bad isn’t the word for it,” said Norris seriously. “Waggoner’s deed speaks for itself. If these reactions are any criterion we’re up against a crazy crowd who’d far rather be killed than caught.”

“The Baums behaved the same way,” Harper reminded. “The death-before-dishonor touch.”

“It’s inhuman.”

“Of course it is! Get it into your head that we are fighting against mentalities with standards far different from yours and mine. To them, capture may seem a fate considerably worse than death. If so, it wouldn’t be enough for us to try to win a battle. More is needed. We must also prevent a last-minute suicide to get one of them alive.”

“Our orders are to take them alive at all costs.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Well, you're supposed to be an ace in the pack,” Norris pointed out. “How would you go about it if you happened to find one of them, McDonald for instance?”

Harper mulled the problem, then said, “The all-important thing would be not to let him realize or suspect that he’d been tagged. I don’t see anything else for it but to sit around in patience and wait a chance to knock him unconscious or pin him down before he could make a move.”

“That comes well from the man who got Ambrose Baum on the run.”

“I had to make him react to find out who was which. Up to that point there was no telling with such a crowd in the road. We knew nothing about him until then. McDonald’s different. We do know what he looks like. We don’t have to kick his breeches to make him betray himself. His face is sufficient giveaway.” True enough.

“If it comes to that,” Harper went on, “and I could organize things my own way—which unfortunately I can’t—I would not try to take McDonald alive or dead. I’d let him run free.”

“Why?”

“So that he could lead me to others.”

“He wouldn’t play sucker for long,” Norris scoffed. “If you think you could exploit him for months, you’re mistaken.”

“For what reason?”

“Because it’s no darned use him leading you to others unless you profit by it. Therefore you’d have to grab them sooner or later. And directly his contacts start disappearing he’ll take alarm, scoot out of sight or blow his head off.” Sniffing his disdain of amateur tactics, he finished, “If we can capture him unscratched and intact he’ll do all the leading we require and whether he likes it or not. We’ll see to that!”

“Have it your own way.” Harper returned to his office, saying, “I’m going to carry on with business, otherwise it will never get done.” He squatted behind his desk, spent half an hour considering a large blueprint, then gave ten minutes to the long letter that had come with it. “All right, Moira, wet your pencil and be careful with the big words. I—”

Norris looked in and commanded, “Put your hat on. You’re wanted again.”

“Oh, not now, surely?” growled Harper. “I’ve important work to do.”

“You bet you have,” agreed Norris. “But you can’t do it there. Hoist your buttocks and come along.”

Throwing him an ugly look, Harper said to Moira, “Much more of this and you can have the business as a gift, you being the only one left to cope with it unchivvied.”

“Hurry up!” urged Norris. “Never mind the gripes.”

Harper did as bidden, went out, followed him down to the car, clambered in. “They think they know where McDonald has hidden himself,” Norris explained. After a brief run the car halted at one end of a long, tree-lined road sided by tidy bungalows. No other official cruisers were in sight as Norris pointed through the windshield and spoke.

“It’s a pink-washed house half-way down on the left. The boys are keeping clear of it so as not to raise an alarm. We’ll roll casually past. Take a look as we go by and tell me what you think.”

He shifted into gear and let the car move forward at modest pace. They trundled by the pink house which had a close-clipped lawn in front, a locked garage at one side. Nobody could be seen about the place, nobody maintaining a lookout from a window. Reaching the end of the road, Norris parked by the curb.

“What’s the verdict?”

“Nothing doing.”

Norris registered acute disappointment. “Are you sure of that?”

“We’ll circle around and try again if you’re not satisfied.”

They circled.

“Nothing doing,” repeated Harper. “For all I can tell the house is empty.” He glanced at the other. “How did you get a line on this address?”

“One of our agents went the rounds of the taxi companies on the theory that if it was McDonald who made those calls to the Baum house he did not walk to or from the booths. The agent found a driver who recognized McDonald’s picture, claimed to have picked him up after midnight and run him to this place.”

“After which McDonald walked around the corner and made for wherever his sanctuary really is,” Harper suggested.

“The driver saw him use a key and go in. That’s likely enough. After all, McDonald isn’t a hardened crook, wise in the ways of the underworld. He would be naive enough not to think of a taxi-trace.”

“That’s so. Anyway, all I can tell you is that he isn’t there at this moment. Maybe he’s in my office making preparations for my return. Moira wouldn’t like that. Let’s go back.”

“Bide your time,” Norris ordered. “Your correspondence can wait. It’ll have to wait. It’ll wait a hell of a while when you’re dead, won’t it?”

“I'll worry none at that stage. I don’t have to eat when down the hole.”

Taking no notice, Norris pondered a moment, decided, “I’ll take a chance on setting off the alarm.” Turning the car round, he drove to the house standing next to the pink one. A middle-aged woman was at the door watching him. He beckoned to her and she crossed her lawn, examined him with beady-eyed curiosity. “Can you tell me who lives next door?” he asked, pointing.

“Mr. and Mrs. Reed,” she informed.

“Nobody else?”

“No. They have no family. They’re not the kind who would, I reckon.” She thought again, added, “They’ve a nephew staying with them just now. He’s from someplace out west, so I’ve heard.”

“Would this be the nephew?” inquired Norris, showing her McDonald’s photograph.

“Yes. Only he looks a bit older than that.”

Norris took in a deep breath. “How long has he been rooming there?”

“About a week.” She reconsidered, went on, “Yes, I first saw him last Thursday.” Her sharp eyes studied his plain clothes, had a look at the car. Her mind showed her to be impressed by Norris’s official tones. “Are you police?”

“If we were we’d have said so,” Norris evaded. “We just want to make sure of the Reeds’ address.”

“That’s their house all right,” she confirmed. “But you won’t find anyone in. They took their car out this morning and haven’t come back.”

“About what time did they leave?”

“Eight o’clock. And they were in a real hurry, I can tell you that.”

“Don’t happen to know where they’ve gone, do you?” put Norris, with faint hope.

“Oh, no. They said nothing to me, and I didn’t ask. I mind my own affairs and leave other people to mind theirs.”

“Quite proper of you,” said Norris. “I suppose there’s nothing for it but to come back later when they’re in.”

“Heaven knows when that will be,” she volunteered. “They took a lot of luggage with them. It gave me the idea that they were going for quite a piece. Not that it’s any business of mine, of course. But sometimes one just can’t help noticing things.”

Norris considered this evidence of her ability to mind her own affairs, then asked, “Have they any friends locally who might put us in touch with them?”

“Not that I know of,” she answered. “Those Reeds aren’t overly sociable and became even less so after that nephew arrived. In fact if you ask me, they’ve been downright surly these last few days. Wouldn’t speak unless spoken to and then said no more than they could help. Acted as if I were a complete stranger to them, me who’s lived next door for twelve years. It made me wonder what on earth had come over them. That nephew had something to do with it, I’m sure.”

Harper put in, “Who told you that he was their nephew?”

“Mrs. Reed,” she informed. “I said to her, ‘Who’s the young man?’ and she gave me a sharp look and snapped, ‘Just a nephew.’ You’d have thought I’d asked her for the loan of a hundred dollars from the way she spoke. Naturally I didn’t mention him again. I know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“Thanks for the information,” said Norris. He got the car going while she remained on the lawn and showed deep disappointment at giving so much and learning so little.

“If that female minds her own business,” remarked Harper as they rounded the end corner, “how much might we get out of someone who doesn’t?”

Norris grunted and offered no comment.

“What do you propose to do about McDonald?” Harper pursued. “Are you going to stake this place as thoroughly as you’ve staked mine?”

“It has been watched continually since nine o’clock, but evidently we started an hour too late. And although you saw no sign of the fact, it’s still under observation.” He weaved the car through traffic, went on, “First thing is to get the tag-number of the Reed car from the vehicle registration bureau and put out a general call for it. The second step is to have that house searched on some pretext or other. The third is to find how and where McDonald picked up the Reeds and, more importantly, whether he’s had contact with anyone else beside the Reeds and the Baums. Lastly, I want to know how he’s managed to smuggle himself out of this area seeing that all routes are sealed.”

“Maybe he isn’t out of the area. Maybe he is hidden somewhere nearby.” “We’ll soon learn.” He drove another mile, asked, “Well, what are you thinking about?”

“Langley’s dead. McDonald’s not too far away and now being sought.”

“What of it?”

“Strange that there’s not been a whisper about the third fellow, Gould.”

“No, there hasn’t,” Norris admitted. “He appears to have vanished into thin air. That proves nothing except that luck runs better with some than with others.”

“If it is luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t have to be luck. Perhaps he is the cleverest of the three, a really crafty character. If so, he is also the most dangerous.”

“He’ll fall over his own feet eventually,” Norris assured. “They always do!”

“I’ve been the subject of a nationwide hunt myself,’ Harper pointed out. “Admittedly it wasn’t so urgent and intensive. But I had to jump around plenty to stay free. I know what it means to be on the run, which is more than you do, always having been the chaser and never the chased. The man who can disappear like Gould is good. He’s too good for comfort.”