SHOTS IN THE NIGHT
★
The street was long, flanked by what appeared to be warehouses, and there
were street lights only at the ends of the block. For at least 400 feet
in the middle there was no light and it was in this dismal area that Bob
and his uncle were trapped.
A pile of construction materials offered the first shelter for Bob and he
ducked behind this.
From this shelter, he listened for some sound from the men who had been
pursuing them. He did not have long to wait for sharp voices could be
heard a little further back along the street.
“The taxi’s stalled,” someone said. “Spread out and let them have it if
they make a break. We’ve got to get them to be sure we’ll get the paper.”
Bob, behind the pile of construction materials, heard someone pounding
down the street.
The beam from a flashlight shot through the night and focused on the taxi
driver.
“Snap off that light!” came a tense command. “That’s only the driver. Let
him go.”
“He’ll bring the cops on us,” came a sharp protest, but the first voice
came back tartly.
“Let him. We’ll be out of here long before he can get his nerve back and
talk to the police. Spread out, I tell you. We’ve got to move fast. If
they break for the far end of the street we’ll see them under the street
lights. There’s no place they can hide at each side.”
The last words confirmed Bob’s fears. That meant that there was no
shelter in the buildings which flanked the street. This time there was no
friendly hedge into which he could leap. He would have been glad to have
risked the barberry thorns again if he had only had the chance.
The taxi was less than twenty feet away and Bob knew that the men hunting
for him and his uncle would reach it in a few more seconds. Then one of
the first places where they would search would be the pile of bricks and
timbers behind which he had sought refuge.
Bob moved away cautiously, a plan of action quickly forming in his mind.
He would get as far away as possible, then make some noise to attract
their attention. It seemed like a good move for by concentrating their
attention on himself, he would provide an opportunity for his uncle to
slip away unnoticed and the radio document could be delivered safely back
to the War Department.
Bob felt a nervous tension gripping his entire body. It was as though the
very night was alive to the danger which filled the deserted street. The
pounding footsteps of the taxi driver gradually died away and only Bob
and his uncle and three unknown pursuers were in the street.
A flashlight gleamed for a moment at the taxi as the beam sought the
interior.
“Nothing here,” Bob heard someone mutter as he backed away from the
sheltering pile of materials.
A piece of board crunched under his feet and he stumbled and half fell to
the ground.
“What’s that!” the exclamation was sharp and commanding and a beam of
light swung toward him.
Bob forgot caution and scuttled away on his hands and feet, dodging
behind the piles of dirt which had been heaped indiscriminately around
the street.
The flashlight seemed to be playing a game of hide and seek with him, for
not once did the beam strike him and he found temporary shelter again
behind a pile of bricks.
But the sanctuary was not to last for long. From the voices near the
taxi, Bob knew that at least three men were after them and as he listened
he heard a command that sent a chill racing along his spine.
“Don’t shoot unless you have to. But let them have it if it looks like
they’re going to get away.”
Bob remembered that his uncle had a gun. That was some consolation. He
would have to depend upon his fists for self protection and right now
both hands were sore and aching from his encounter earlier in the day
with the thorns of the barberry.
The young federal agent crouched close to the ground listening for some
sound that might indicate the whereabouts of his uncle. He only knew that
Merritt Hughes had dodged out the other side of the taxi. Since then
there had been no sign or noise to reveal where he had sought shelter.
Bob strained his eyes, but the darkness in the middle of the block was
intense. Perhaps, after all, that was a blessing for it gave them a
better opportunity to hide and made the task of the searchers all the
harder.
Impatient and cramped from hiding behind the pile of bricks, Bob moved
away. He was determined to escape from the trap into which they had
fallen and he decided that by working his way back along the street
toward the car which had been used by their pursuers might offer the best
avenue of escape.
A bold thought occurred. It might even be possible to seize their car and
make his own escape.
Bob, crouching low, crept along the street, at times almost crawling. It
wasn’t a pleasant task, but he was steadily putting distance between
himself and the stalled taxi, where he knew the hunt for his uncle and
himself was being concentrated.
The young federal agent stumbled over a timber and sprawled headlong on
the dirt.
To Bob it sounded as though the noise of his fall must have echoed and
re-echoed along the street. He remained motionless, almost breathless on
the ground, waiting for the pursuit to swing toward him. But evidently
the noise of his tumble was not as great as he had feared and the hunt
continued near the taxi.
Bob continued his cautious advance toward the car which had brought their
pursuers. He was not certain whether anyone had been left to guard the
machine and he moved carefully as he neared the vehicle.
He was now at least 200 feet from the stalled taxi, and he had no desire
to give an alarm which would bring the others swarming toward him.
Bob now had decided what he would do when he reached the car. In turning
it about he would race the engine, which would be sure to attract the
attention of the men seeking his uncle and allow him to escape from the
far end of the street. There should be ample time for Bob to maneuver the
car about and get it started back down the street before he could be
overhauled.
The young federal agent was less than twenty feet from the car, close
enough to hear the soft purring of its powerful engine, when a gun blazed
from behind him and the echoes of a shot resounded between the buildings
which flanked the street.