The World in My Pocket

Morgan had been over the ground around the bottleneck so often, he knew practically every shrub and bush by heart. He pointed out where Bleck was to be. He himself went to a position about six yards from Bleck.

Both men lay down and examined the road.

This was a good spot, Bleck thought, bringing the rifle up to his shoulder and squinting through the sights. He was completely hidden, and yet he had a clear field of fire with no obstructions.

He began to feel a little less uneasy, but he wished he had had a drink before leaving the caravan. The three shots of Scotch he had had before leaving his apartment were dying on him.

Although it was still early, the sun now was making him sweat and his mouth was dry.

‘Okay?’ Morgan called.

‘Great,’ Bleck said, and after adjusting the sights of the rifle, he put it down beside him, took out his handkerchief and wiped his hands.

Morgan took off his tie and opened his shirt. He glanced at his watch. The time now was five minutes to eleven. If the truck drove at its usual speed, it would be expected at the bottleneck at half-past eleven. Ginny should be here, Morgan decided, in a quarter of an hour.

There was time for a cigarette, and taking out his pack, he lit one.

Seeing him smoking, Bleck also lit a cigarette. He put his hand on the rifle, noticing his hand was still shaking and he grimaced. He was feeling tense and his heart was thumping. This hanging about was making him feel bad.

After five minutes of silence, Morgan suddenly lifted his head to listen.

‘Sounds like a car coming,’ he said.

Bleck scrambled to his feet.

‘Get down, you fool!’ Morgan snarled. ‘It can’t be her! Get out of sight!’

Hurriedly, Bleck slid under cover.

A half a mile down the road they saw some vehicle coming in a thick cloud of dust. As it drew nearer they could see it was a military truck. Three soldiers were sitting in the cab. The truck drove past and went on up the road.

‘That’s the mail run,’ Morgan said. ‘They’re late.’

The hands of his watch crawled on. At twenty minutes past eleven, he began to feel uneasy. Had Ginny met with a smash? Had she lost her nerve and run out on them?

Bleck said, ‘Sweet suffering Pete! How much longer is she going to be?’

‘Maybe the traffic was bad out of town,’ Morgan said, frowning uneasily.

‘Suppose they don’t let her overtake them?’ Bleck said, half sitting up. ‘What the hell do we do if they get here before she does?’

‘We do nothing. It’ll mean we try again tomorrow.’

‘But they’ll be suspicious if they see her on the road again,’ Bleck said. ‘It’ll box up the whole plan!’

‘Pipe down!’ Morgan growled. ‘There’s time yet.’

He broke off as he heard in the distance the deep-throated roar of a car coming fast.

‘Here she comes!’

A few seconds later they saw the MG flashing along the stretch of straight road a mile from them.

‘She’s driving like hell!’ Bleck exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. ‘Look at the way she’s coming!’

Morgan, also on his feet, looked down the road.

‘Maybe she’s got the truck right behind her. Come on! Get those crowbars ready.’

He pulled a length of rag from his pocket and began to twist it into a rope. Then, taking a can of benzine from another pocket, he stepped on to the road. He heard Ginny change down as she reached the bend in the road, then the next moment he saw the MG as it came through the bottleneck. He waved, pointing to where he wanted her to stop.

She swung the car to the edge of the road and pulled up. Her face pale and her eyes glittering with anger and excitement, Ginny jumped out of the car.

‘The devils wouldn’t let me pass! To get past them, I nearly went off the road! Hurry!’ Her voice was tense and her face white. ‘They’re right behind me!’ She snatched a gun from the glove compartment, then picked up the half-gallon jar of pigs’ blood that was on the floor of the car. ‘Where?’

Morgan pointed to a spot on the road.

As she pulled the cork from the neck of the bottle and began to pour the blood onto the road, Morgan and Bleck pushed the ends of the crowbars under the car and heaved upwards. The powerful leverage lifted the car easily. It hung for a moment, then crashed over into the ditch.

‘Take the crowbars and get under cover,’ Morgan said to Bleck, and he pulled off the cap on the gas tank.

Carrying the crowbars, Bleck got back to his place of hiding.

Ginny was splashing the blood on her left arm and over her skirt, grimacing with disgust.

Morgan poured the benzine on the long strip of rag, dipped one end into the gas tank and then laid the six-foot length of rag onto the road.

‘They’re coming! I can see them!’ Bleck shouted. ‘Hurry!’

Morgan looked quickly at Ginny.

She was now lying face down in the middle of the puddle of blood, and she looked up at him, her face white and tense.

‘Got your gun?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Take it easy. I’ll be with you, kid.’

As he struck a match, he suddenly wondered if the overturned car was too close to her. When it went up, the heat might scorch her, but it was too late now to do anything about that.