Cry of the Hunter - Jack Higgins [23]
Murphy twisted and turned through several back streets and alleys and after a while he stopped and held up his hand. ‘What’s wrong?’ Fallon demanded.
‘I’m trying to tell if they’re following,’ Murphy said.
Faintly in the darkness they could hear shouting and the noise of motor cars driving up. ‘Christ, they’re on to us now, all right,’ Fallon said. ‘Keep going.’
They commenced to run again and Murphy led the way as before. They cut across some waste ground where slum property was being demolished and ran into a long and narrow alley that seemed to go on for ever. Just before reaching the end Murphy called breathlessly over his shoulder, ‘Watch it now. We’re going to cross a busy street.’ He slowed down to a jog-trot and turned the corner straight into the arms of a policeman.
As the constable fumbled for his revolver Murphy grappled with him and screamed, ‘Run for it, Mr. Fallon! Run for it!’
They went down in a mass of struggling limbs and Rogan cut straight across the road and disappeared down another side street. Fallon danced nimbly out of the way and as the constable rolled uppermost, he lifted his foot into the side of the man’s neck. He subsided with a groan and Fallon jerked Murphy to his feet and dragged him across the road. The passers-by who had stopped to watch, quickly scattered, and Fallon and the boy plunged into the gloom of the side street.
As they neared the end of the street they saw Rogan standing under a lamp, poised for flight. ‘I thought you were right behind me,’ he said.
For a moment Fallon felt like smashing a fist into his face, but he resisted the impulse. ‘Are you all right?’ he said to Murphy.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ the boy said. ‘He didn’t hurt me at all.’
Behind them a police whistle sounded faintly on the wind and a car turned into the end of the street. ‘Where to now?’ Fallon demanded.
‘Follow close behind me,’ Murphy said. ‘There’s just one chance left to us.’
He hurried along the street and darted into another alley. At the end of it was a low wall and when Fallon leaned over, he could hear the gurgle of water. Murphy lowered himself down and dropped into the water with a splash and Fallon and Rogan followed. The water was icy cold and knee-keep. Rogan cursed and Fallon told him sharply to be quiet. He touched the boy on the shoulder. ‘We’re ready,’ he said and Murphy nodded and began to wade along the stream.
Brick walls towered on either side of them and once they had to go through a narrow tunnel that stretched for fifty or sixty yards. There was a pungent odour of decay and Fallon’s nose wrinkled in disgust. He could guess what the stream was used for. They progressed in silence for about half an hour and all sounds of pursuit faded into the distance. There was only the rain hissing into the water and splashing as they moved on. Faintly in the distance there was the sound of traffic and then a church clock began to sound the hour. Murphy stopped. ‘We’ll climb up here,’ he said.
It was not difficult. There were several bricks missing from the wall which was low at this point There was a fence at the top with several gaps in it and they squeezed through one of them. They were in a quiet residential street. Murphy led the way along the pavement until they came to a little shop that stood on the corner. There was an entrance to one side that opened into a tiny yard and he turned into this and paused outside a door. ‘Where are we?’ Fallon said.
The boy smiled. ‘My place.’ Fallon started to protest and Murphy went on. ‘There’s nowhere else to go. We haven’t any choice.’
From behind Rogan said, ‘For God’s sake let’s go in if we’re going,’ and Murphy opened the door and walked into a tiny kitchen.
A young, pleasant-faced girl with a determined face turned from the sink her arms wet to the elbows. She picked up a towel and began to dry herself as she looked at them in amazement. ‘Johnny!’ she said. ‘Where have you been?’ Her eyes travelled down to their soaking legs that dripped water on to the