The Flesh of The Orchid (20 page)

“Depends,” Max returned. “We’ve got to make a clean job of this. It could be our last job if we slip up on it.”

Frank said: “Let’s go some place and eat. I’m sick of watching this joint.”

*     *     *

It was growing dusk when Carol awoke, and she sat up with a start, an uneasy fear brooding over her. For a minute or so she couldn’t remember where she was and stared around the luxuriously furnished room with blank, frightened eyes. Then she remembered, and her mind darted to Steve, and she lay back in the big, comfortable bed with a little sigh of relief.

Everything that could be done was being done for Steve. He was out of danger now, but was still very weak. She hoped when she saw him again he would recognize her, and that her presence would help him get well.

And yet as she lay there, trying to relax, the uneasy fear still brooded over her; a presentiment of danger. But there could be no danger, she tried to assure herself. Magarth had told her that the Sullivans couldn’t possibly find Larson or her in this big, comfortable house. He had told her too that the house was guarded night and day. But so great was her fear of the Sullivans that she was willing to credit them with superhuman powers.

She lay for some time watching the dusk creep into darkness, and then suddenly she got out of bed, slipped on a wrap that Veda had lent her, and went to the window.

The big orange plantation spread out before her in the distance; the tree-heads a darkening blur; the golden fruit invisible now in the twilight. Immediately below was the broad terrace, where she could see one of the guards, pacing up and down, a rifle under his arm. From the terrace were steps leading to the sunken garden and the big lawns that stretched away to the rising ground, which in its turn dipped to the plantation.

She stood at the window, fear touching her heart, looking into the darkness, waiting for something she knew would happen.

While she waited the door opened and Veda came in.

“Oh, you are awake?” Veda said, seeing her at the window. “Shall I turn on the light or would you rather I didn’t?”

“Please don’t,” Carol said, her eyes still searching the darkening grounds.

“Is anything frightening you?” Veda asked gently, crossed the room to stand by Carol’s side.

“There’s danger out there,” Carol said, still as a statue.

“Shall I call Phil?” Veda asked, suddenly alarmed. “Shall I ask him to go and see—”

She broke off as Carol gripped her arm.

“Look!” she cried, and began to tremble. “Did you see? Over there by the trees.”

Veda stared into the darkness. Nothing moved, no sound came to her; even the wind was still.

“There’s nothing,” she said soothingly. “Come downstairs. It’s nicer down there.”

“They’re out there . . . the Sullivans . . . I’m sure they’re out there!” Carol cried.

“I’ll tell Phil,” Veda said as calmly as she could. “Now get dressed. I’ve put out clothes for you. I think they’ll fit you. Get dressed while I call Phil.” She gave Carol a reassuring little pat on her arm, ran to the door. “And hurry,” she added, ran to the head of the staircase. “Phil!” she called.

Magarth came out of the sitting-room, stared up at her.

“Anything up?”

“Yes. Carol thinks the Sullivans have come.” There was a slight tremor in Veda’s voice.

Magarth came up the stairs two at a time.

“What makes her think that?” he asked sharply.

“She says she saw them. I don’t know if she did. I didn’t see anything . . . but she’s badly frightened.”

“I’ll have a word with the guards. Get her dressed and bring her down to the sitting-room,” Magarth said shortly, ran downstairs to find Staum.

Outside in the thickening darkness the Sullivans, like two black shadows, moved silently towards the house.

Magarth found Staum in the kitchen. He had just finished supper and was lying back in his chair, a satisfied, sleepy expression on his fat face. The maid, Marie, was preparing to go home, and while she put on her hat and coat she chatted to Staum.

Staum looked surprised when Magarth pushed open the kitchen door and came in. He straightened up in his chair.

“Want me?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“Yeah,” Magarth returned, and jerked his head to the door.

Staum followed him out into the corridor.

“Your boys posted?” Magarth asked.

“Sure,” Staum returned, frowning. “What’s up?”

“Something may be. I want you and me to have a look round the grounds.”

“For the love of Mike!” Staum exploded. “I’ve just finished supper. Why can’t you take it easy for a while? You’re acting like a flea on a hot plate. If you’re still worrying about the Sullivans you’re wasting my time as well as yours. Don’t I keep telling you the Sullivans don’t exist? They’re just a bogey to frighten kids with.”

“If you won’t take this business seriously I’ll call the Sheriff and have a change made here,” Magarth said, suddenly angry.

Staum’s face reddened and his eyes glinted unpleasantly.

“No one’s going to make a monkey out of me,” he returned. “Maybe Kamp’s crazy, but I ain’t. I tell you the Sullivans don’t exist. A guy like you should know better than to be scared by a fairy story like that.”

“If that’s the way you feel about it, the sooner you go the better,” Magarth returned shortly.

“I ain’t taking orders from a newspaper man,” Staum said, although he began to look a little uneasy. “So long as I’m in charge here I’m going to be the boss.”

Magarth stepped past him to the telephone.

“We’ll see what the Sheriff has to say,” he returned, picked up the receiver. He stood for a moment with the receiver to his ear, then he frowned. “The line seems dead,” he said, rattled the signal-bar, waited a moment or so, then hung up thoughtfully. “Now, I wonder ? . .”

“Go on, say it,” Staum sneered. “You think the Sullivans have cut the line.”

“It’s likely,” Magarth returned, aware of a sudden tension gripping his nerves. “I want a gun, Staum,” he went on abruptly. “If you’re not going to do your job, I’ll have to do it for you.”

“Who said I wasn’t going to do my job?” Staum said, flaring up. “You watch what you’re saying; and you don’t get a gun from me. You ain’t got a permit.

Magarth controlled his rising temper.

“This bickering won’t get us anywhere,” he said. “Miss Banning saw two men out in the plantation just now. They scared her. Maybe they’re not the Sullivans, but at least we can go out there and see who they are.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?” Staum returned, led the way to the front door. “If there’re guys snooping about out there I’ll fix ‘em.” He added after a pause, “Think the telephone fine’s cut?”

“Looks like it,” Magarth said, worried. He followed Staum on to the terrace.

The lone guard, Mason by name, was lolling against the wall, a cigarette in his mouth, his gun held loosely in the crook of his arm.

“Hi, George,” he called when he saw Staum. “When do I get my supper?”

“You’ll have it when I say so,” Staum growled. “Seen anyone about?”

“You mean the Sullivans?” Mason asked. “Haw! Haw! No, I guess the Sullivans ain’t called just yet.”

“The lady says she saw two men out in the plantation,” Staum went on. “You been keeping your eyes peeled?”

“You bet,” the guard returned. “Ain’t seen a thing. Maybe the lady was dreaming.”

“Yeah, I guess she was,” Staum returned bitterly, looked at Magarth. “Satisfied?”

“I’m not,” Magarth said. “This fella’s half asleep. I tell you two guys were seen out there.” He tapped Mason on his chest. “Keep your eyes open, bud, you’re fooling with dynamite.”

“He thinks the Sullivans are going to call,” Staum explained.

“That’s terrible,” Mason grinned. “I hope they keep off until I’ve had my supper.”

With a hopeless shrug Magarth turned away. Staum followed him.

“Where’s the other guard?” Magarth asked.

“Round the back. Want to see him too?”

“I certainly do,” Magarth returned. He was feeling a little scared now. If Staum refused to believe that trouble was brewing, anything might happen.

And something was happening right at that moment at the back of the house. It happened so quickly and silently that Magarth and Staum suspected nothing as they moved along in the darkness.

The Sullivans had reached the terrace. Max carried a long thin steel rod at the end of which hung a noose of piano wire. For a moment they watched the unsuspecting man who was guarding the rear of the building. He was seated on the balustrade of the terrace, his legs dangling, his gun lying by his side. He hummed to himself, and every now and then he looked impatiently at his luminous watch. He too wanted his supper.

Max touched Frank’s arm. Both men knew exactly what to do. Frank remained still: he held his heavy .45 gun loosely in his hand while Max crept forward, his rubber-soled shoes making sound on the white-paved terrace. He held the steel rod like a man carrying a flag in a procession. When he was within a few yards of the guard he stopped.

The noose of piano wire rose in the air, began a silent descent until it was a foot or so above the head of the guard. Max fiddled with the slack of the wire which he held in his hand, adjusting the noose so that it would pass over the wide brim of the guard’s hat. Then, with a quick movement like a snake striking, Max swished the noose down and dragged the slack. At the same moment Frank, moving like a silent, vicious shadow, sprang forward, snatched up the guard’s rifle.

The guard, caught round the throat by the strangling wire, could make no sound, and was dragged over backwards, his legs thrashing, his fingers frantically trying to find a purchase on the wire that was cutting into the soft skin of his throat. He struggled for barely ten seconds before his body went limp and blood ran out of his mouth.

Max loosened the noose while Frank eased the wire from the strangled man’s throat. Without wasting a moment, Max collapsed the rod, which telescoped into a length of about two feet, and joined Frank in carrying the guard into the dark garden.

A moment or so later Magarth and Staum turned the corner and walked along the back terrace.

“I don’t see him around,” Magarth said abruptly. “I suppose he’s gone to bed or something.”

“He’s around somewhere,” Staum snapped. “He wouldn’t leave his post unless I told him.” Raising his voice, he bawled: “Hey! O’Brien! I want you.”

The two men waited in the darkness. No sound nor movement reached them, and while they waited the Sullivans slipped like shadows to the front of the house, crept towards Mason, who had laid down his rifle to light another cigarette.

“Some guard,” Magarth said angrily. “I’ll raise hell about this when I see the Sheriff.

Staum looked worried.

“He should be here,” he muttered, walked to the end of the terrace, bawled again, “O’Brien!”

“I guess we’ll find him in the kitchen,” Magarth said bitterly. He turned sharply, retraced his steps.

The Sullivans had scarcely time to carry Mason away. They had no time to collect his rifle nor his hat, which had fallen off in his death struggle.

“Now Mason’s scrammed,” Magarth said, not seeing the glow of a cigarette. “You there, guard?” he called, raising his voice.

Staum joined him.

“What are you playing at?” he snarled. “Trying to make out Mason’s quit his job?”

“It looks like it,” Magarth said, and felt the hair on the nape of his neck bristle. “I don’t see him around.”

Staum fetched out a powerful flashlight, shot the white beam along the terrace.

The two men stood transfixed as they saw the hat and rifle lying on the white flagstones.

“Mason!” Staum shouted, took a step forward. There was a sudden off-key note in his voice.

“Put that light out,” Magarth said, snatching up Mason’s rifle. “Come on; inside, quick!”

Staum didn’t need any urging. Neither of them said anything until Magarth had closed and barred the front door.

“What’s happened to them?” Staum asked, shaken.

“I told you the Sullivans were here—do you want more proof?” Magarth said, pushed past the gaping Deputy, ran to the kitchen, which was deserted. He locked and bolted the back door, returned to the hall. “You stay here and keep your eves peeled,” he said to Staum. “I’m going upstairs. They’re after Larson, but they’re not going to get him. You’re the first line of defence. See they don’t get you,” and he left Staum, who was now looking scared, and ran up the stairs.

Veda met him on the landing.

“Is it all right?” she asked, then clutched his arm when she saw the expression in his eyes. “What’s happened?”

“Plenty,” he said, keeping his voice low. “They’re out there all right, and they’ve got the two guards. That leaves Staum and me, you, Carol and the nurse. They’ve cut the telephone wires, so we’re sealed off unless—”

“I’ll go,” Veda said promptly. “I could get across the plantation and get the overseer and his men up here.”

Magarth slipped his arm round her.

“That’s fine,” he said, “but not yet. We can’t afford to take chances. If they get you, we’re sunk. We’d best wait until they try to get into the house, then you slip out the back way.”

“It may be too late then,” Veda said. “It’ll take me ten minutes at least to get across the plantation. I’d better go now.”

“You’re not going until I know where they are,” Magarth said firmly. “Where’s Carol?”

“She’s with Steve.”

“All right; we’ll keep near Steve. They’re after him, and it’ll be to his room they’ll come if they get into the house.”

“You ain’t leaving me down here alone, are you?” Staum called up plaintively from the foot of the stairs.

“Why not?” Magarth returned. “The Sullivans are just a bogey you frighten children with—remember? You’re not a child, are you?” He took Veda’s arm and together they walked quickly down the passage to Steve’s room.

They found Carol, looking lovely in one of Veda’s simple linen dresses, seated by Steve’s side. Nurse Davies, a tail, grey-haired woman, was sewing near the window.

Carol looked up quickly as Magarth and Veda came in, and made a quick sign to them not to say anything.

Steve, looking white and drawn, opened his eyes as Magarth came quietly to his side.