Cry of the Hunter - Jack Higgins [65]
He paused on a street corner and hesitated. He wasn’t going to last five minutes on the street, that was obvious. A police constable turned the end of the street and came towards him and Fallon dived into an alley and began to run. He slowed down at the end and turned the corner into a quiet street. Again he paused, but only for a moment, because he knew there was only one place he could go. The one place in Stramore where he would be least welcome.
It took him ten minutes to get there. The little square was quiet and there was no sign of activity in the shop with the junk-filled windows. He moved across quickly and tried to open the door. It was locked. For a moment he hesitated then he went round the front of the building into the scrap yard at the side. There was an old, rusting van standing forlornly in the middle of the yard. He moved round it and tried the back door. It opened to his touch and he stepped into the kitchen.
Rose Conroy was working at the sink. She whirled round in surprise and a look of astonishment appeared on her face. ‘Holy Mother of God!’ she said. ‘You’re back!’
He frowned. ‘I thought you were supposed to leave here.’
She dropped her gaze and said in a low voice, ‘I was going to go – honest, I was, Mr. Fallon. Me Dad stopped me – he found the money hidden in my room and he took it and gave me a good hiding into the bargain.’ She raised hate-filled eyes, ‘I’ll kill him one of these days.’
Fallon shook his head. ‘You won’t do anything of the sort,’ he said firmly. ‘He isn’t worth it. Where is he at the moment?’
She shrugged. ‘At the pub as usual, only this time he’s spending my money.’
He grinned sympathetically, ‘Never mind. I’ll give you some more before I leave.’
She dried her hands on a towel. ‘Why have you come back, Mr. Fallon? I thought you’d have been to hell out of this by now.’
He lit a cigarette and said, ‘I’m heading south on my own. I thought I’d risk the train but when I got to the station I found it crawling with peelers. What’s been happening?’
She shrugged and said scornfully, ‘They’re looking for that fella Rogan. He was stopped in a van by a road block on the outskirts of town early this morning. He fired a shotgun out of the window and drove on.’
The room had gone strangely quiet. Fallon said. ‘They haven’t got him yet?’
She shook her head and laughed harshly. ‘Hardly – he’s upstairs now. Me Dad’s furious but he’s scared stiff of Rogan. He hasn’t the guts to turn him away.’
It was funny how inevitable everything was, Fallon thought. There was a pattern and when a man had an appointment with death it was impossible to avoid it. ‘Is that his van outside?’ he said.
She shook her head. ‘That’s ours.’
‘I see.’ He carefully stubbed out his cigarette and stood up and took off his trenchcoat. He threw it over a chair and said calmly. ‘I think I’ll go up and have a word with him.’
She nodded and she looked into his face, her expression changed. ‘Are you all right, Mr. Fallon?’ she asked anxiously.
He smiled. ‘I’m just a little tired,’ he said. ‘I’ll be fine when I’ve had a rest.’
He passed through the living room and mounted the stairs. The corridor was very quiet and somewhere a fly buzzed against a window pane. He walked quietly along the corridor and stood listening at the door next to the girl’s room. There was a faint sound of movement and a bed spring creaked. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped his hand inside and loosened the Luger in its holster. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
Rogan was lying flat on his back under the blankets. Fallon closed the door and leaned against it. ‘Hello, you bastard!’ he said, ‘Isn’t life full of surprises?’
Rogan sat up slowly, an expression of complete astonishment on his face. The blankets started to slide down from his shoulders and he held them in place with one hand. ‘Well?’ Fallon said. ‘Haven’t you got anything to say? I thought you were going to fix me next time we met.’
A terrible look appeared on Rogan’s face and he started to laugh. Fallon’s eyes narrowed.