Doors and windows were opening up and down the street and faint cries of question and alarm came through the twilight as Wayne raced to his parked car, but no one got in his way.
He tossed the gagged and trussed girl into the front seat and slid behind the wheel beside her, gunned the motor, and roared away to the first intersection without turning on the headlights. He made a screaming turn southward and continued two blocks without lights, slowed and turned right decorously and switched on his lights.
Only then did he relax and let out a deep breath and take his eyes from the road ahead to look down at the crumpled body of the girl he had rescued.
Her dress was still above her hips. The upper portion of her dress had been ripped wider, so that not only one full breast was completely exposed, but half of the other also. She lay twisted on the seat with her bound legs hanging over the edge, her head wedged against Wayne's hip and her eyes staring up at his face unblinking.
He reached over with one hand while driving at a moderate pace along the side street, jerked the handkerchief down over her jaw, and pulled the sponge gag from her mouth.
She moved her lips slowly, pressing them in and out against her teeth, but made no sound or other movement. Her eyes continued to stare unblinkingly upward at his face, filled with deadly fright and with something else that Morgan Wayne couldn't (or wouldn't) define. She hadn't moved a muscle, he thought, since he crashed into the bedroom back there and interrupted whatever was going on, and he wondered momentarily if the shock had completely paralyzed the girl.
Driving easily with one hand, he attempted to soothe and reassure her with a conversational tone. “It's all right now, kid. Take a deep breath and relax. I'll pull over in a shadowed place in a moment, and we'll cut you loose and straighten your clothes out. Don't you understand? It's all over. You're O.K. You can forget it ever happened.”
Letty Hendrixon closed her eyes and spoke in a, thin, little-girl voice that was wondering and awed and frightened, yet oddly and incredibly exultant.
“I don't want to forget it. I don't want it to be over. Why did you come so soon?” There was a plaintive and querulous note on the final words that caused Wayne to set his teeth together hard and summon all his will power to remain tactful and understanding.
“Listen to me, Letty. I'm a friend of your father's. Don't say those things. Don't think them. You've suffered a horrible shock, but you're all right. Don't forget that. You'reall right.” He emphasized the words harshly.
Directly ahead was a dark and vacant length of curbing with no curious strollers to take note of them. He eased in from the street and stopped. He turned and put both hands under the girl's shoulders to lift and turn her in the seat. She remained quiescent and limp, with closed eyes and lax mouth. He got a knife from his pocket and slashed the rope binding her hands, leaned down to unbuckle the belt about her legs.
She let him do as he would without helping or trying to help. She lay partly against the seat and partly against him, seemingly without the strength to open her eyes or hold her body erect. He slid his right arm about her shoulders, tugged the skirt down to her knees, and reached over with his left hand to draw the torn fabric of her dress together across her bosom, muttering, “If you've got a pin or anything...”
She didn't reply, but drew in a shuddering breath. One hand darted upward, thin fingers closing about Wayne's wrist in a grip of desperation and dragging his hand down across the full, bare breast while she moaned:
“He kissed it. Don't you understand? And I loved it. I almost died. I wanted him to go on and on. I burned all over.” She was sobbing brokenly now, pressing her face down against Wayne's chest, clinging desperately to his wrist and trying to re-establish contact as he drew his hand away from the eager and pulsating flesh.
“Do you understand at all?” she sobbed. “Do you hear what I say? It seemed to be what I've always known I wanted—but didn't know.” She stopped sobbing and she relaxed against Wayne. Her voice became dreamy.
“Do you know what I hoped he would do—what I think he would have done if you'd stayed away? Do other women feel as I do about it? Or is it just me? I don't care, do you hear?” She sat up defiantly and drew away from him, her voice becoming strident and far too mature for her years: “I loved it. I want it. I'll have it again.”
Wayne's hand tightened on her shoulder and he shook her angrily. “You're hysterical. Get hold of yourself. For God's sake, forget what happened back there and get a grip on yourself.”
“But I want to talk about it,” she pleaded. “I want to know—”
“We'll talk about it later,” he promised her through clenched teeth. “I'll tell you about Havelock Ellis and Kraft-Ebbing and give you some books to read. Right now, I've got to get you home to your parents. They must be frantic with worry about you.”
“Nuts.” Her tone changed again suddenly and she was like a schoolgirl. “Father probably doesn't even know I'm missing, and if Mother knows,she isn't worrying. She'll be far too busy with—well I'll tell you about that later. When we have a real talk about sex and stuff. Let's talk about it now.” She snuggled down against him and caught his free hand again and ineffectually attempted to press it against her. “I've heard about Ellis and Kraft-Ebbing,” she confided, “but no one ever let me get hold of them. Except a silly little abridged one-volume thing by Ellis that stopped and changed the subject whenever it began to get interesting. And I did get a look at the Kinsey Report, but I couldn't understand all the tables and graphs.”
Wayne pulled his hand away from hers and asked sternly, “How old are you, Letty?”
“Almost seventeen. Plenty old enough to understand all about it, if people would just quit treating me like an infant. And plenty old enough to do it, too, I bet.” She was rubbing her face against his shoulder ecstatically.
Wayne put his car in gear and began driving slowly toward the West Side Highway. His face was set and expressionless as he thought about the girl beside him. And then he thought about Priscilla Endicott and his foot went down on the accelerator hard and the heavy car leaped ahead. And about Lois Elling and the revealing letter she had idly typed in the office this afternoon, and the blood moved faster through his veins and his foot went harder on the accelerator.
Why was he wasting time here with this oversexed brat? Lois was waiting for him in her apartment.
“Well?” It was Letty's voice beside him, impatient and demanding. “Where are we headed in such a hurry?”
“Home,” he said grimly. “Just as fast as we can get there.”
“Good.” She clapped her hands together excitedly. “I can't wait to get home with you and show you exactly—”
“To your home,” he corrected her swiftly.
“But you promised to tell me all about...” Her voice quivered with rebellion and hurt.
“I promised to tell you sometime. When you grow up enough.”
“Oh, no, you don't.” She slid away from him to her side of the seat. “You turn right around and take me someplace where we can—well, talk, anyway.”
“You're going home as fast as I can get you there.”
“Then I'll scream,” warned Letty tensely. “There's a police cruiser ahead. I'll scream bloody murder and say you kidnaped me.”
“You'll keep your crazy mouth shut,” growled Wayne. “My God, child, don't you realize—”
They were passing a slowly cruising police car. Letty leaned her head out the side of the convertible and screamed, “Help! Police! Help!”
The police cruiser came to life as Wayne cursed and grabbed her, pulled her down against him to smother her voice. The Cadillac leaped forward like a startled stallion and screamed through a red light. The lights of the police car faded momentarily and Morgan Wayne drove like one possessed, whipping around a bus and into the next intersection, skimming through another red light in the teeth of side traffic, with both hands on the wheel now and grimly alert while Letty sat beside him and laughed gaily as they grazed
death by inches.
It was an absurd twist of fate, of course, but Wayne realized that danger from the police was desperately real. If a flash was out on the Hendrixon kidnaping—if either of the cruising cops had recognized her face as they flashed by—even if she had not been recognized, if they were alerted on the kidnaping, the chances were ten to one that the driver of a car with Letty as a passenger would never stay alive long enough to identify himself and explain the circumstances if the police cornered him with her.
Kidnaping is a hated and despicable crime, and official tempers run high if the victim is a young girl. He gave all his efforts to outdistancing immediate pursuit, and by twisting and speeding and breaking dozens of traffic regulations he eventually emerged on Madison Avenue in the Eighties, fairly certain that he had eluded that particular pursuer.
As he slowed to a moderate pace in a line of evening traffic, Letty glanced aside at him demurely, holding her torn dress together in front with one hand, and asked, “Where to now?”
“To my place,” he told her angrily, “where I'm going to gag and hog-tie you and call your parents to come and get you. Don't you realize those cops got my license number and a description of this car and it's all over the city by radio already?”
“Of course,” she said calmly. “Why else do you suppose I screamed at them?” She wrinkled her nose and smiled happily. “You'll see. When you start tying me up, I mean. Unless you're impotent. You're not, are you?”
Morgan Wayne groaned audibly and then shut himself into dour silence.
Chapter Six
Morgan Wayne was far from impotent, but right at the moment he wished fervently there were some way to convince Letty that he was. A lot of problems faced him and they all had to be solved fast, and her adolescent cravings weren't any help.
First and most important, he had to get his convertible off the street and securely out of sight. That was easily taken care of if he could make the next six blocks to his apartment hotel without being spotted. He could, he knew, get the use of another car easily enough from the hotel garage, where he was well known, and once that was accomplished it would be simple enough to drive Letty safely home if she were a normal girl and would consent to act normally.If!
Well, he realized by this time that she certainly wasn't a normal girl. But perhaps he could talk her into acting like one for just a little while.
Carefully tooling the car along the avenue in a discreet way so as not to attract notice, Wayne drew in a deep breath and began persuasively:
“No, Letty. I'm not impotent. But I am old enough to be your father and I've just killed a man and broken the jaw of another to rescue you from God knows what, and—”
“I've tried to tell you what,” she reminded him breathlessly. “That is, maybe only God knows what really would have happened next if you hadn't come through the window the way you did, but I've got a pretty good idea, and you told me you had too back there, and you promised me...”
Wayne waited grimly until she ran out of breath and had to pause for an instant, and then broke in patiently:
“I'm trying to explain to you that this isn't the time or place for that. You've beenkidnaped, goddamn it! There's probably a state-wide alarm out for you and anyone seen with you. Take it easy and let me get you home where you belong. After that will be time enough—”
“Oh, no, you don't,” she broke in fiercely. “You don't put me off that way. For once in my life I've got a man in a spot where he can't run out on me when I start asking questions. You admit it yourself,” she continued happily. “I'll only hold my dress together like this and go along with you quietly if you promise to take me up to your own place and—and forget you're old enough to be my father.” She gave him a demure, sidelong glance and waited expectantly.
Wayne slowed carefully for a left-hand turn as he approached a red light. He was beginning to relax now. Another half block would do it. He said gently, “But I am old enough to be your father, Letty. Don't you see?”
“That's why I think I'm going to just love you to death,” she told him ecstatically. “I'm tired to death of all the silly boys in my crowd who snatch a kiss in the dark and then get frightened and start apologizing because they don't know what to do next. Youwill know what to do next, I bet. And I don't mean just the conventional things, either.”
Morgan Wayne sighed deeply and eased his car to the left in front of a line of traffic. He drove half a block to a marqueed, six-story structure of concrete and steel and swung across the sidewalk to a long ramp leading downward beneath the building with a sign overhead: “Hotel Patrons Only.”
It was a large, well-lighted room with concrete floor and some thirty automobiles ranged about in private stalls. A uniformed attendant came sauntering over as Wayne pulled up in front of a small office and got out.
He said, “Evening, sir,” very carefully keeping his gaze averted from the tousle-haired and thoroughly disreputable-appearing girl who was getting out on the other side.
His tactful disregard of Letty brought a slow smile to Morgan Wayne's lips and a five-dollar bill from his pocket. He said briskly, “Hello, Bill. I've been having some trouble with the ignition. Is there a good garage nearby that you could send it to tomorrow for a checkup?”
“Sure. The Ace Service on Lex. You won't be needing it, huh?” Still he did not glance at Letty, though she had opened the door and got out and was coming around the rear of the car toward them.
“As a matter of fact,” said Wayne, “I will be needing a car, Bill. I'm going up for a while first,” he went on hastily as he heard a swift indrawing of breath from Letty, “but I'll be going out later. Anything parked here I could use?” Another bill appeared between his fingers and then disappeared in the attendant's hand.
“Why, sure. There's a Hudson sedan over there in the corner. Belongs to a party that's out of town right now. No reason you shouldn't put a few miles on the speedometer. A careful driver like you.”
“Swell.” Wayne turned away as Letty sidled up to him and slid one arm through his. Without speaking, he led her toward the rear, where there was a small self-service elevator for the convenience of guests who wished to go directly up to their own rooms from the garage without going through the lobby.
And this was one time, Wayne thought to himself grimly, when he certainly didn't want to go through the lobby.
Letty held his arm tightly and didn't speak as he opened the door, followed her in and pushed the button marked 4. The grilled door slid shut smoothly.
Then she sighed and leaned against him and asked in a small voice, “Are you really angry with me for making you do this?”
Wayne bit his underlip to suppress a smile. He said, “Right now, I'm sore as hell, Letty.”
“But you won't be for long.” Her mood changed and she giggled happily, releasing the two torn pieces of dress she was holding together and letting her breast spill out for his approval. “You haven't even reallylooked at me yet. I'm not an infant. See?”
“I see too damned much,” Wayne told her gruffly as the elevator stopped. “Pull that dress together while we go down the corridor. We might meet someone.”
She giggled again and pulled the fabric together. Wayne opened the door and stepped out into a long, well-carpeted hallway. He went forward in long strides and Letty trotted happily after him, stopping by his side when he halted in front of a door and inserted a key. He reached inside to flip a switch that lighted four wall brackets to illuminate a square comfortable sitting room with deep chairs and smoking stands and a long sofa against one wall.
Letty pirouetted into the room ahead of him, making small sounds of excited pleasure, then stopped in consternation and dismay in front of a full-length mirror set in the closed door leading to the bathrooms.
“Oh, my God!” she moaned, throwing both palms up to the sides of her disheveled hair dramatically and leaning forward to peer at her reflection in disbelief. “Why didn't you tell me I looked like hell before breakfast?”
she wailed. “Nowonder you don't think I've got any sex appeal.”
Morgan Wayne closed the door on the night latch and strode grimly across the room to drop into a chair and reach for a cigarette in a silver box.
“How'd you think you looked after your bout with those hoodlums?” he demanded acidly. “Now that you've had a look at yourself, will you quit pestering me and agree to go home quietly?”
“But I'm stillme,” she protested. “Underneath.” She dropped her hands from her hair to both sides of the torn bodice of her dress and deliberately ripped it down to the waist, then caught the top of her slip and tore it savagely, dragging the garments down and wriggling her slim body out of them until she stood in front of the long mirror wearing only low-heeled spectator pumps and stockings that drooped down about her slender ankles.
She stood with her back to him like that, regarding herself anxiously, and asked in a muffled voice, “See what I mean?”
“I do indeed,” Wayne said. “You're top-heavy, my girl, that's what's the matter with you.”
“I'm not either.” She whirled about to face him angrily, cupping both hands beneath her heavy breasts. “See?” she challenged. “You're not looking at my mussed-up hair and my shiny nose now, are you?”
“No,” Wayne told her moodily, “I'm not.” He was looking at her, all right, but he was thinking about Lois Elling. What a hell of a note this was! How was he ever to convince this precociously nymphomaniacal little idiot that she was just wasting her time displaying her charms to him? She was crazy, of course. Absolutely blithering insane, with God knew what sorts of sexual repressions and frustrations. This afternoon had set her off, he realized. The ministrations she had received from Hake Derr's two hoods had turned the switch. He had been wondering how she had managed to stay out of an institution so long if she went around acting like this with every man she met, but now he realized it was probably the first time in her life she had ever let go.
The whole thing this afternoon had knocked her dizzy and she was still in a tailspin with excitement. Once back on the track, he told himself, once all this was behind her and she was safe amid familiar circumstances, she would probably be consumed with shame for the way she had acted.
The Avenger Page 5
