The World in My Pocket

They drove on. After a few miles they became aware that the steady flow of traffic was slowing down, and far ahead of them they could see a long line of cars coming to a crawl.

‘Road block,’ Kitson said, his heart beginning to pound. ‘This could sink us.’

‘Don’t lose your nerve,’ Ginny said.

The cars ahead of the Buick slowed to a crawl, then finally stopped.

There was a long wait, then they began to move again.

Slowly, Kitson crept the Buick behind the long line of cars, his hands clammy. He could see the road block ahead of him. There were two police cars across the road, cutting the up traffic into a narrow stream. Six patrol officers stood by the cars. One of them leaned into each car as it came to a stop. He had a brief word with the driver, then waved him on.

Ginny said, ‘I’ll talk to him. Leave it to me.’

He looked quickly at her, marvelling at her nerve. He wondered what the three in the caravan were thinking. They couldn’t see the road block and they must be wondering why they were scarcely moving. Again he was thankful he wasn’t back there, and he hoped Gypo wouldn’t do something stupid.

Ten minutes later - minutes that stretched Kitson’s nerves to breaking point - they drew up at the road block.

Ginny deliberately pulled her skirt above her knees, crossing her legs. She leaned out of the car window.

The patrol officer who came over to her looked from her face to her knees, and his leathery red face split into an appreciative grin. He didn’t even look at Kitson.

‘Where have you come from, miss?’ he asked, leaning against the side of the Buick, staring at her, admiration in his eyes.

‘From Dukas,’ Ginny said. ‘We’re on our honeymoon. What’s all the excitement about?’

‘Did you see a Welling Armoured truck on the road?’ the officer asked. ‘You couldn’t have missed it if you had seen it. It has a big sign on the back.’

‘Why, no,’ Ginny said and turning, she said to Kitson. ‘We didn’t see any truck, did we, honey?’

Kitson shook his head. His heart was thumping so violently he was scared the cop would hear it.

‘Have you lost it?’ Ginny said and giggled.

The cop grinned, his eyes on her knees.

‘Never mind. You get moving. Have a good honeymoon.’ He looked at Kitson and winked. ‘I bet you do. Move on, bud.’

Kitson sent the car forward and a moment later they were through the road block and heading down the open road.

‘Phew!’ Kitson gasped, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. ‘The way you handled that guy!’

Ginny adjusted her skirt, covering her knees and she shrugged her shoulders impatiently.

‘Give a man something to look at, and he’s just another sucker,’ she said. She opened her handbag and took out a pack of cigarettes. ‘Do you want one?’

‘I guess so.’

She lit the cigarette and gave it to him. There was a smear of lipstick on it, and it gave him an odd satisfaction to know her lips had touched the cigarette before his.

She lit another cigarette for herself.

For the next ten miles they drove in silence, then Ginny said, ‘You take the first on your right. It’s the road that leads to Fawn Lake.’

Kitson nodded. As he looked ahead, he caught sight of a hover-plane coming towards them, flying not more than three hundred feet above the road.

‘Look at that!’

The hover-plane went over the Buick and the caravan with a violent swish of wind.

Ginny said, ‘They’ve moved into action fast enough.’

She looked at her watch. The time was ten minutes after midday. Although only forty-five minutes had elapsed since they had stopped the truck, it seemed to her like a lifetime.

Morgan, Gypo and Bleck also heard the swish of wind from the hover-plane as it passed over them and Gypo cringed down. He knew instinctively the machine was looking for them. While they had crawled through the road block, the three men had crouched on the floor. Morgan had his gun in his hand, determined to shoot it out with any cop who tried to get into the caravan.

They all relaxed as they felt the Buick pick up speed. Morgan opened his coat and looked at the pad Ginny had put on his wound. It was saturated with blood and the wound was obviously bleeding again.

Anxious to ingratiate himself once more with Morgan, Bleck got to his feet. Stepping over Gypo’s body, he went to one of the bunks and took out the first-aid kit that Morgan had insisted on taking along with them.

‘I’ll fix it for you, Frank,’ he said.

Morgan was feeling faint. He was alarmed at the amount of blood he had lost. He nodded, bracing himself against the side of the caravan.

Gypo stared at him with horror, thinking: If Frank goes, what are we going to do? There’s no one like him for handling a tough situation. We’ll be sunk if he dies.

Bleck squatted down beside Morgan and got to work. After some minutes he got a pad on that stopped the bleeding.

‘You’ll be okay now,’ he said and rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. ‘How about a drink?’

‘Go ahead,’ Morgan said bitterly. ‘You have every reason to celebrate.’

Bleck made three stiff whiskies and handed the glasses around.