Loot for the Unlucky Lady

He was a dark young man, with the type of pale-sallow skin which made his freshly shaven jaw look bluish. He was sitting across from her. She decided that he was probably tall. His legs looked long. He seemed to be well dressed. A small suitcase stood near his crossed legs. His expression was one of dark and sardonic good humor. Wryness. And competence. His overcoat was beside him, neatly folded. He held his cigarette so that the smoke curled up through the fingers of his brown, strong-looking hand.

She wondered if he could be the enemy. That is how she had come to think of anyone who threatened Al’s life. And the columnist had said that there would be two groups after Al. The police and the gangsters that the gambling house might hire. His constant gaze made her nervous.

At last, to her relief, it was announced that the car was in front. She stood up, slipped into her coat and went down to the front exit. The airport name was on the small neat sign on the window of the black car.

The door was held for her, and she got in, sat back in the corner. Two men got in next. They were portly, red-faced, loud, and smelled abundantly of alcohol. One of them sat much too close to her. She moved away. They gave each other meaningful looks.

One of them stuck a fat red hand toward her. “I’m Charlie Grable. No relation to Clark. Ha, ha! Guess you’re going our way, Miss. Might as well get acquainted.”

She looked down at his hand, then at his blood-shot eyes and looked cooly away.

“Guess she froze you out, Charlie,” the other one said. “Wipe those icicles off your chin, Charlie boy.”

Charlie looked sulky. He mumbled something under his breath. An old man with abundant white hair and no hat got in next, followed by a couple in their thirties with two small children. The voices of the children were shrill and excited. The last person to get in was the young man who had stared at her in the terminal.

The door slammed and the car started off through the crowded midtown traffic.

At the airport the list of passengers was checked against the manifest. Other passengers were already at the field. They were permitted to walk out across the apron and up the steps into the big ship. It was the first time Gloria had ever flown. She tried to seem nonchalant about it.

The pretty uniformed stewardess checked them off on a second list as they entered the ship. Gloria walked up toward the front of the ship and sat down. Almost immediately the second of the two red-faced men sat beside her.

“I wanna apologize for my fren, Charlie,” he said, slurring his words. “Now me, I’m a gennamun. I don’t go for none of this crude stuff. The hell with Charlie. You and I, we’ll ignore the punk, hey?”

“On your horse, friend,” a cool voice said. Gloria turned away from the circular window, looked up into the face of the young man who had watched her in the terminal.

“What d’you want?” Red-face demanded, growing even redder in the face.

“You happen to be annoying Miss Quinn. Also, you happen to be occupying my seat.”

Red-face thought it over, heaved himself to his feet. “Sorry,” he mumbled, lurching off to find Charlie.

Gloria demanded. “How did you know my name?”

“Listened when the manifest was checked. Thought he might bother you. I won’t.” He dug a paper-bound book out of his pocket and began to read.

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice.

He looked at her, raising one eyebrow. “Perfectly okay.” He went back to his reading. “I’m Steve Harris,” he said, without looking up.

When the signal was given, Steve Harris groped for and found the loose ends of his seat belt, strapped it tight across his thighs. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, learning how to do it herself.

The four motors, one at a time, bucked, kicked, spat and settled into a steady roar. The steps were being rolled away across the apron. She stared out the window at the busy airport.

Steve continued to read. Her heart gave a lurch when the plane began to move, began to trundle awkwardly down the strip. She bit her lips. The ship went a great distance, then wheeled around in a sharp semicircle. It stopped and the song of the motors rose to a high roaring whine, and the great airplane trembled and vibrated.

Suddenly they were rolling, and the acceleration pushed her back in the seat. Faster and faster, and then the ground was dropping away, spinning away into the distance, and she saw roads and tiny cars and the roofs of squat buildings speed swiftly by.

She let out breath long pent up and suddenly felt very tired. She leaned her head back, turning so she could watch the ground. The big wing stretched out into the horribly empty air. She saw the tip of it bend alarmingly and caught her breath.

“It’s supposed to do that,” Steve said quietly. “It’s built to bend like that in the air.”

“Oh, I... I didn’t know.”

“First time?”

Gloria nodded.

He said: “Dullest way to travel there is. But the quickest. Can’t see anything or do anything and the vibration gives you a headache.”