The World in My Pocket

‘Okay?’ he said to Morgan, who looked pale, his mouth drawn down with pain.

‘Yeah. get going!’ Morgan growled. ‘Come on in, Gypo!’

Gypo stared, coming to an abrupt stop.

‘What are you doing there? Why aren’t you riding in the truck?’

‘Get in!’ Morgan snarled. ‘We’ve got to get moving.’

‘I’m not getting in like that!’ Gypo said, his voice shooting up a note. ‘If that truck shifts, you’ll be squashed like a fly!’

Morgan pulled his .45 from his shoulder holster. As he did so, his coat opened and Gypo could see the bloodstained bandage across his chest.

‘Get in!’ Morgan said.

Kitson grabbed Gypo and shoved him into the caravan, then he ran around and pulled the lever down, shutting the back.

He got into the driving seat.

The car and the caravan headed fast towards the highway.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I

Gypo stood with his broad back pressed hard against the wall of the swaying caravan, his eyes goggling at the steel wall of the truck that was only a few inches from his protruding stomach.

Bleck had come around the truck and was standing at the back of it, looking down the side where Morgan and Gypo were standing.

The three men were bracing themselves as the caravan swayed and bumped behind the fast-moving Buick.

‘Santa Maria!’ Gypo exclaimed. ‘Then there’s a man in there?’

‘Yeah, but he won’t worry you,’ Morgan said. ‘He’s dead. Now look, Gypo, you’ve got to get that shutter open. We’ve got to be sure he hasn’t the radio signal on.’

Bleck came out with his first constructive suggestion since the job began.

‘The radio is run from the battery,’ he said. ‘Can’t we get under the truck and cut the leads?’

‘That’s it!’ Morgan said. ‘Get under there, Gypo, and find the leads. Get going!’

‘I don’t want to get under there. The truck might shift and crush me,’ Gypo said, his face sagging.

‘You heard what I said!’ Morgan snarled. ‘Hurry!’

Muttering, Gypo opened the cupboard door where he kept his tools, took from it a pair of wire cutters and a screwdriver. Morgan glanced through the curtain that covered the window on his side.

They were now on the secondary road, and Kitson was driving fast. The caravan was swaying about dangerously. If there was a traffic cop around, he would be after them. There was no way to warn Kitson to slow down. Morgan hoped he would cut his speed before they reached the highway.

Gypo was down on the floor, struggling to get under the truck. It was a tight fit and he was badly scared. He finally got himself under and Morgan handed him a flashlight. As he edged himself under the truck’s engine, Gypo saw on the floor boards, a few inches from his face, a big patch of red and even as he recognized it to be blood, some of it dripped down on him, hot and sticky against his neck.

He heaved his body away from it, shuddering, knowing the dead man was only separated from him by the thinness of the boards.

His hands shaking, his body quivering, he strove desperately to locate the battery leads. If it hadn’t been for Morgan who was kneeling and peering under the truck at him, Gypo would have declared he had cut the leads, but with Morgan’s eyes on him, he didn’t dare do that. Finally he spotted one of the leads, but it was well out of his reach ‘I can’t get at it, Frank,’ he panted. ‘We’ll have to do it from the top.’

‘The hood’s locked,’ Morgan said. ‘Hang on a moment.’

He went to the tool cupboard and found a pair of long handled metal shears.

‘You’ll reach it with this,’ he said, pushing the shears under the truck.

Gypo had to put his flashlight down to handle the shears.

After some trouble he managed to get them into position, but by then he had lost sight of the lead.

‘I’ve got to have a light,’ he panted.

‘Get under there and hold the light for him,’ Morgan said to Bleck, making room for him Bleck easily slid under the truck. He held the flashlight, grimacing as he saw the blood on the floor boards and on Gypo’s panic-stricken face.

Gypo cut the lead.

‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Let me get out of here.’

As Bleck began to slide out from under the truck, he heard a sound that made the hairs on the nape of his neck bristle. A sighing groan came through the floor boards, followed by a slight scratching sound. He flinched back, half expecting something to touch him.

‘Santa Maria!’ Gypo gasped. ‘Let me out of here!’

He was in such a panic that he started to kick Bleck, trying to get past him.

Snarling, Bleck thumped him in the ribs, making him gasp.

‘Cut it out!’

He pulled himself from under the truck and stood up, straightening his coat.

‘What’s up?’ Morgan demanded, seeing how white he was.

Gypo squirmed out, tearing his shirt on the truck as he did so.

He stood up, his face ghastly; blood that had dripped down on him making a smear down his cheek and neck.

‘He’s alive!’ he gasped. ‘I heard him! He’s moving!’

Morgan stiffened.

‘He can’t use the radio now and he can’t scramble the lock. Those buttons must work from the battery - they must do! Come on, Gypo, get that shutter open. We’ve got to get at this guy!’