Cry of the Hunter - Jack Higgins [35]
He began to think of her, calmly and deliberately, letting his mind dwell on each separate incident. There were so many things to think about. Why had she given them sanctuary? – but the answer to that was so simple and he had been pushing it away from him deliberately because he hadn’t wished to acknowledge the fact.
All at once he knew that he didn’t want to die. He wanted to see Anne Murray again with a sudden fierce desire that had him struggling to sit up in the bed. Sweat broke out on his forehead and his senses reeled. He closed his eyes and hung on and when he opened them again it was all right. He pushed back the bedclothes and swung his feet to the floor. His chest was tightly swathed in bandages and there was a dull, throbbing pain in his left side. He took a deep breath and got to his feet. For a moment he stood swaying there, and then he began to walk.
He felt curiously light-headed and for a few moments it was as if he was walking on cotton wool and then he reached the far wall. He rested for a while then turned and walked back. He sat on the edge of the bed and then tried again. There was a cupboard in one corner. He opened it hopefully but was disappointed. His clothes weren’t there. He moved over to the window and looked cautiously out, keeping behind the curtain. When his eyes became accustomed to the darkness he saw that the ground was some forty feet below. His heart sank and he turned and staggered back to his bed. He had barely got himself settled again when the door opened and the nurse came in.
She punched his pillows and smoothed the blankets into place. ‘How do you feel?’ she said.
He groaned a little and answered her in a weak voice. ‘Not so good. I think I’ll go back to sleep.’
She nodded and compassion showed in her eyes. ‘I’ll look in later on. Try and get some rest.’ She left the room as quietly as she had come.
Fallon smiled softly. So far so good. He pulled back the bedclothes and moved across to the door. There was a murmur of conversation outside and the nurse laughed. He placed his head close against the door and heard her say, ‘You’ll be bored to death sitting here all night.’
A man’s voice replied, ‘Not if I had something as pretty as you to keep me company.’
She laughed again. ‘You read your book,’ she said. ‘I’ll be round at half-past eleven to have a look at him. I’ll bring you a cup of tea.’ Her heels clicked away along the corridor and Fallon heard the creaking of a chair as the policeman settled into it.
He moved unsteadily back towards the bed. There was an electric clock on the wall and it showed the time as nine-thirty. He walked across the room two or three times and sat down again. He had an hour and a half. It was like the train affair all over again. He had only one chance – surprise. He had to move fast. If he didn’t get away now he knew that he never would. Tonight was the one slack period. The time when they thought him so ill and shocked that the very thought of escape was laughable.
He checked the bedside locker. There was nothing there except some towels and a pair of slippers. He pulled the slippers on and turned out the light, then he moved across to the window.
Slightly to the right and about thirty feet below there was a side entrance to the hospital. A lamp jutted out from the wall on an iron bracket casting a pool of light down on to the path. A fine rain drifted through the yellow light like silver mist. He opened the window carefully and leaned out.
About three feet below the window-sill an ornamental stone ledge about six inches wide, cut across the face of the building. A sudden excitement moved inside him. To the right, a line of windows stretched away into the darkness, almost every one throwing a broad shaft of light into the darkness. To his left there were three windows and only the middle one showed a light.
Fallon hardly paused to consider the problem. There was no risk involved because his life was in far greater danger if he stayed. He threw a leg over the sill and clambered out on to the ledge. For a moment he stood