Cry of the Hunter - Jack Higgins [68]
He frowned and closed his eyes. He felt weak and his brain wouldn’t work properly. He didn’t want to use the girl. He knew it was wrong and yet it was a good plan and the only chance he had of getting on the train without being recognized. Once aboard he could go to sleep in a corner seat with his hat over his eyes or hide in one of the toilets. A couple of hours and he’d be in Castlemore. He could leave the train at one of the small country stations between there and the border and cross over on foot. It could be done. There was still a chance for him. He smiled up at the girl. ‘All right, I’ll do it,’ he said.
She smiled excitedly. ‘I was worried for a minute. I thought you might refuse to let me help. It wouldn’t have been fair after all you’ve done for me.’ She went out of the room and Fallon leaned back in the chair, his face breaking into a grin. What an impossible child she was. What he had done for her, indeed!
When she returned she was wearing a coat and gloves. ‘Come on!’ she said. ‘We haven’t got much time.’ He got to his feet and she helped him into his trenchcoat and belted it round his waist. He paused at the door as a thought struck him, and went back and picked up his bloodstained jacket from the hearth where she had dropped it. He extracted the Luger from its holster and slipped it into his trenchcoat pocket and then he followed her out into the yard. She opened the back of the van and he climbed inside. There was a tiny glass window that looked into the cab and Fallon said, ‘If the police stop us for a search and find me in the back, I’ll tell them I was threatening you with the gun through that window. All right?’
She nodded. ‘All right, Mr. Fallon, but they won’t. Never fear.’ She closed the door and locked it. He heard her climb into the cab and then the engine started shakily and they moved out of the yard into the square.
He crouched in one corner of the van and leaned against the wall. He felt bad – his wound seemed to be on fire and the pain flared up into a sudden spasm of agony every few minutes leaving him sick and gasping for breath. It took them about ten minutes to reach the railway station. Once or twice the van had to slow down in heavy traffic, but they were not stopped. Finally he felt the wheels bumping over the cobbled square in front of the station and the van came to a halt. There was a quiet knock on the wall of the cab and he crouched by the little window. ‘I’m going for your ticket now,’ Rose said. ‘Keep quiet. There are quite a few peelers about.’
He remained in that position, kneeling by the small window, but his view was restricted and he could only see the backs of several other parked vehicles. Rose was only gone for a few minutes. When she climbed back behind the wheel she sat there for a moment pretending to examine a railway timetable and spoke quietly. ‘They’ve got two men on the main entrance and one at each ticket barrier. I’m going to drive round to the goods entrance now. The man on the gate knows me – I’ve been through many times. There’s bound to be another peeler there so don’t you be making a sound.’
‘All right,’ he said. ‘But if anything goes wrong remember what I said – I’ve been holding a gun on you.’
She made no further reply and a moment later the van reversed and moved off again. He slid down to the floor and scrambled towards the rear doors. He had hardly reached them when the van slowed and halted. He held his breath and waited. Steps approached the van and he heard Rose say loudly, ‘Come on, Tommy! Open up! I’ve got a couple of parcels for the noon train to Carlington.’
A man’s voice said, ‘Oh, it’s you, Rose.’ There was a snatch of conversation which he was unable to hear, and then another voice joined in. There was a sudden burst of laughter and Rose said, ‘Oh, quit your fooling and open the gate, Tommy.’ A moment later the van moved forward again and Fallon released his breath in a long sigh.
The van stopped and he heard her walk round