by J. T. Edson
‘Go ahead,’ sighed the lab man. ‘Have your fun.’
‘Reckon you’ll get anything on the Chevy?’ asked Alice.
‘Could be. We’ve come up with some mud from under the mudguards and might be able to break it down and establish its origin. But it won’t be within feet. Might be able to suggest an area of around five square miles, provided there’s not too many different types of mud under there.’
‘That could narrow the search area down,’ Brad said. ‘Nothing on the inside of the Chevy/’
‘That car wash’s efficient. It cleans real good. I’m waiting for the clothing to come down from the M.E.,’ the lab man replied. ‘I only brought up your preliminary reports to mooch a cup of coffee.’
After the man had left, Alice and Brad sat looking at each other. The other deputy, a Negro, joined them. His partner brought in coffee, handed Brad and Alice a cup each and left to collect two more. While waiting for Jack to send for them, Alice and Brad kicked the case around, with the Negro listening. Such impromptu discussions had their uses, for sometimes another member of the Office might come up with a useful suggestion.
‘I’d say they’re hid out on the range, or in the hill country,’ the Negro stated, reaching the same conclusion as Alice and Brad. ‘That’s why he had the car washed on the way in. So we couldn’t trace it back to the gang if he was knocked off.’
‘In a hunter’s cabin, or on a ranch,’ agreed Alice. ‘Which leaves us a whole lot of possibilities.’
‘County Land Office could tell us how many unoccupied properties there are, or if any of the local spreads are owned by Greeks,’ Brad commented. ‘And likely the Department of Fish and Game might know how many hunting cabins there are.’
‘Call them and see,’ Alice suggested.
Before Brad could do so, Jack arrived and asked them to go along to his office. Major Houghton-Rand, a tall, slim man dressed in a quiet business suit and not sporting a tightly rolled umbrella or bowler hat, greeted the deputies, then Jack motioned them into the chairs placed before his desk.
While taking her seat, Alice could not help compare her present treatment to one visit when she stood, tight-lipped and to attention, listening to the sheriff’s blistering comments about a deputy fool enough to get involved in a fight that might have taken her before the County Commissioners’ Disciplinary Board and lose her her badge. That had been while working on the Cord case and the memory still made Alice feel apprehensive about entering the sheriff’s private office.
‘I’ll not trouble you with the political, or social, implications behind EOKA,’ Houghton-Rand told the deputies. ‘You’ve probably read the papers recently and know what happened through the then Government, and more particularly the opposition of the day, insisting that we give way to terrorism. I’ll go straight to what you want to know—how the EOKA operate. That can be explained easily. Threat followed by assassination, mostly indiscriminate murder from ambush. In Cyprus, the EOKA had the backing and active support of a large proportion of the Greek population. They were armed and trained by supporters of enosis, union with mainland Greece.’
‘How did they operate, major?’ Brad asked impatiently.
‘Sorry, didn’t mean to run on,’ the Englishman answered. ‘The EOKA was divided, by us at any rate, into two parts. The Active Wing, the hardcore of killers and snipers; and the Passive Wing, who mostly stayed at home, lived normal lives but supplied food, money, ammunition and information to the gangs. The Active Wing had knowledge of the country on their side, which made winkling them out extremely difficult.’
‘What was their favorite M.O.?’ Alice inquired.
‘Mostly attack from ambush. Behind a wall, up a cliff, out of the upper floor of a house, or, as with Mrs. Grantley, from a vehicle as it went by. They didn’t fight except when cornered, then they could be nasty.’
‘Did they send bombs through the mails?’ Jack put in.
‘Not to members of the British forces,’ Houghton-Rand admitted. ‘However they may have done to a couple of Greek Cypriots who opposed their methods. The usual trick was to have a member of the Passive Wing smuggle H.E., or incendiary bombs with time fuses into our installations. Some of them were quite ingenious.’
Recalling something which had bothered him during the discussion in the squad room, Brad put forward a question.
‘How did the Passive Wing communicate with the Active gangs?’
‘Word of mouth, or by getting messages from prearranged pick-up points. Businessmen travelling about the island, their priests, goatherds, villagers all acted as messengers.’
‘Did they ever use wirelesses?’ Alice inquired, following Brad’s line of thought.
‘If they did, we never caught them at it.’
‘Without the Passive Wing to help,’ Alice went on, ‘how would Colismides communicate with Papas?’
‘Telephone, probably,’ replied Houghton-Rand. ‘So much of your telephone system is fully automatic that tracing the calls would be next to impossible.’
‘Not if he was hid out on the ranges, or in the hill country,’ Alice objected.
‘Aren’t there telephones out there?’ asked the Englishman.
‘Most ranches and hunting cabins have them,’ Jack pointed out.
‘Sure, and the lines are routed through some small, manually-operated exchange, or party lines. The operator would soon get suspicious if they used Greek all the time, and would learn too much if they spoke English.’
‘I had thought of that, Alice,’ Jack grinned.
‘How about using a walkie-talkie?’ Houghton-Rand asked.
‘Possible,’ Jack said. ‘But too limited in range. They’d need a fairly powerful radio to cover any distance, especially into the hills.’
A thought nagged at Brad, but he could not bring it fully into focus and so gave his attention to the more immediate problem.
‘What do you think Colismides will do now we’ve downed one of his men, major?’ he asked.
‘Try to carry out this threat. Remember, he’s seen terrorism pay off in Cyprus and thinks it might again. Already one of your tabloids is demanding that he be let escape rather than endanger lives. If he can strike at one of your families, he might get more support.’
‘Might he make his move against just anybody, rather than hit at the officer’s family?’ Brad inquired.
‘I’d say not,’ Houghton-Rand guessed. ‘Remember, his post is that of the persecuted freedom-fighter driven from his home country by imperialist oppression and forced into a life of crime by the vindictive neo-Fascist police. He’d retain the sympathy and support of the liberal press only as long as he keeps up the pose. It’s been my experience with that kind of press, that they’ll condone the murder of an official, or official’s family, more than if an uncommitted citizen gets wiped out.’
‘Alice and Brad were selected because neither have any dependents in or near Rockabye County,’ Jack remarked.
‘Then Colismides will order a strike either at them, or the family of some other officer,’ Houghton-Rand declared.
‘The Mirror ran an article saying how I shouldn’t be placed in a position of danger, being a woman,’ Alice commented. ‘I read it this morning.’
‘In that case, Miss Fayde,’ Houghton-Rand said seriously, ‘you would make a fine target.’
‘That’s why I’m handling the case,’ she replied.
‘What’s the next move, sheriff?’
‘Another television interview, more ramming with the needle,’ Jack answered. ‘After which, we’ll see how the cards fall.’
‘While I appreciate your plan, sheriff,’ Houghton-Rand stated, ‘do you think Miss Fayde—’
‘Oh no!’ Alice groaned. ‘Not another of the “but-you’re-a-woman” set?’
‘Alice knows the risks she’s running,’ Jack told Houghton-Rand. ‘And she can look after herself. Besides, we’ll have her covered all the time she’s away from the Office, Brad, too.’
‘May I say h
ow much I admire you, Miss Fayde,’ the major smiled, rising. ‘And I hope you get Colismides.’
‘Any special reason, major?’ asked Brad.
‘One. That noble freedom-fighter threw a grenade under a pram in Nicosia. It killed a nine months’ old baby, its mother and another serviceman’s wife. Then he and his gang slipped over to Greece before we could root them out. Yes, you might say I’ve a special reason all right.’
‘What do you reckon’ll be the biggest danger to Brad or Alice?’ Jack asked.
‘Ambush,’ Houghton-Rand answered. ‘We dug pretty deep after the killing of the baby and two wives. Colismides and Papas are the worst of a bad bunch. Given the right opportunity, and sufficient reason, either would take a few risks. And, from what you’ve told me, sheriff, they’ve a pretty good reason right now.’
‘They’ve certainly made this country too hot to hold them,’ Jack admitted. ‘Once over the border, they’re beyond U.S. jurisdiction. Then they’ve all Mexico, or South America to hide in.’
‘Unless they go back to Cyprus.’ Houghton-Rand commented. ‘A lot of their old friends are holding down well-paid jobs, since independence. Reward for their services, I suppose. A man can’t be extradited from his native country, you know.’
‘Any more questions?’ Jack asked.
‘None,’ Alice replied.
‘Will the major be around for long, in case we think of any?’ Brad inquired.
‘I’m staying on until this affair blows over,’ Houghton-Rand replied. ‘Now I’d like to continue looking around. Fascinating place you have here, sheriff. It’s got equipment most major county police forces in England only dream about.’
‘Go ahead,’ Jack said. ‘We’ll let you know if anything breaks.’
‘Good luck, both of you,’ the officer said and left the room.
‘Well, that’s it,’ Jack remarked after the door shut. ‘I want you both in uniform when you go before the television cameras. We can’t have the Mirror claiming that we’re endangering the lives of the citizens, and in uniform you can’t be mistaken.’
‘I never look my best in uniform,’ Alice sighed.
‘Women!’ snorted Jack Tragg. ‘Get going, the pair of you.’
The telephone rang and he scooped up the receiver. Alice and Brad were on their way out when Jack signaled them to stop. At the end of the call, which was carried out in Spanish, the sheriff looked at his deputies.
‘That was Captain Garcia,’ he said, mentioning the very cooperative Mexican chief of police whose territory bordered Rockabye County. ‘Two nights ago there was a fight in a cantina and one feller, Pedro Ruis, went to hospital with a bad knife wound. Ruis’s a smuggler and guide for red-hots crossing the border. While he hasn’t said anything, he was carrying almost a thousand dollars in used U.S. bills.’
‘It could be coincidence,’ Alice commented.
‘Or explain why Papas never made his contact,’ Jack replied. ‘If so, it’ll take a few days for another guide to be arranged. That means Colismides will want us scared off the case if he can arrange it.’
‘Let’s go and get changed,’ Brad suggested to the girl.
‘I’ll fix the escort,’ Jack promised. ‘It’ll take a few minutes.’
‘I’ve a couple of phone calls to make anyway,’ Brad replied.
Two of the calls, to the County Land Office and the Department of Fish & Game, had already been made by the Negro deputy although no answer to either was in so far. Taking up the phone, Brad asked the operator to put him through to whoever handled licensing amateur transmission and receiving radios. On being given the required number, he identified himself and requested a list of every amateur operator in the city. The kind of set needed to maintain communications with the Colismides gang—who Brad felt sure hid out on the ranges or in the hill country—could not be carried around in a suitcase, and the list might give him a lead.
Again he felt the nagging thought at the far back of his mind, some memory which struggled to get through, but failed. Before he could mention the thought, Brad found Alice waiting to leave for home.
Although Brad and Alice took their private cars and apparently went alone, a small, covered truck followed each of them. Nothing about the following trucks hinted that they belonged to the Department of Motor Vehicles, or that inside each one’s rear sat half-a-dozen officers armed with riot guns, Thompson submachine guns, a Federal Emergency kit containing a gas discharger gun and its bombs, and a sniper’s rifle. If any attempt should be made to ambush either Alice or Brad, their escorts carried the means to nullify it swiftly and effectively.
Brad’s drive home proved uneventful, so did Alice’s; the escort being sent merely to learn the route and pick out likely ambush points. In his spacious apartment at the luxurious Beverly Arms—an Upton Heights building too costly for the average law enforcement officer, but Brad’s family had shares in the company which owned it—the big blond changed into his uniform. Lastly he strapped on his official belt, with its handcuff and spare magazine pouches and a high-riding, forward-raked, skimpy, steel-lined Bianchi Cooper-Combat holster. After cleaning his Colt, Brad slipped it into the holster. He always carried the gun cocked, with the safety applied. To make such a method safe for ordinary wear, another combat master, Elden Carl, had designed a securing strap. The strap’s loop passed over the Colt’s raised hammer, being held in place against tension by snapping a press-stud on to a pin fitted to the side of the holster. To facilitate swift release, a long tang extended below the stud, to be caught by the trigger finger during a draw and allowing the strap to snap free. Simple, but very effective, the Elden Carl Safety Fly-Off strap turned a combat shooting holster into a safe, workaday rig without sacrificing any of its lightning fast draw qualities.
Dressed in the distinctive’ uniform of a deputy sheriff, armed in the finest possible manner, Brad left his apartment ready to be set up as a target for men who regarded murder as a means to an end.
Fifteen
Face glowing with anger, Mikos Papas switched off the television set and then stood glaring wildly around the room. He had just sat through a newscast telling of Plytas’ death and seen another interview given by the two deputies involved. Instead of showing concern for Colismides’ threat, the deputies treated it as nothing. While that big blond’s comments stung, the quiet contempt of the girl drove into Papas like a knife. Nobody watching Woman Deputy Alice Fayde, smart and competent in her official uniform, could help but feel confident in her assurance that neither she nor her kinfolks took the slightest notice of the threat and regarded it as no more than the ravings of terrified bullies without the courage to back their words.
When the newscaster asked if the deputies now believed the attempt on Mrs. Grantley to be part of the threat, Alice stated that an investigation had brought to light the fact that both Deputy Grantley and his wife, before her marriage and retirement, had been involved in arresting Angers and sending him down for a stretch in The Walls. So it seemed more likely that he, not being Greek or in any way connected with the Colismides’ mob, had sought private revenge. Of course, Alice had continued, it would not surprise her if Colismides tried to persuade the more gullible elements of the press that the attempt had been at his instigation.
Earlier that day, Papas had telephoned one of his contacts in Gusher City and asked for certain information. First he learned that the proposed guide had become involved in a fight and now lay in hospital below the border. It would be several days before a replacement could be found. Second, using local sources of information into which Papas did not inquire, the contact stated that neither Alice Fayde nor Bradford Counter need worry about endangering their kinfolk as neither possessed any who could be reached and attacked.
Yet the Sheriff’s Office must be prevented from extending their efforts to locate the gang. Much time and effort had been spent in setting up Rockabye County as the jumping-off point to safety. To find and fix another location would take weeks and all the time the big
hunt continued. If the law could be frightened, or sufficient public opinion brought to bear so that it slackened its efforts, all might still work out.
Only one method of achieving this presented itself to Papas’s mind.
Violence.
It paid off in Cyprus and Papas expected it to work again.
Already the more liberal press were hinting that the gang’s escape would be preferable to endangering further lives. The killing of one of the deputies would add further fuel to the flames. Which deputy though? There could be only one answer. The woman. After the killing of the two women and the baby in Cyprus, the protests of the British liberal-intellectuals had been directed solely at the Government for not giving way to the Greek Cypriot demands, with never a word of condemnation against the instigators of the murderous attack. Papas felt certain the same fury would be unleashed against the Sheriff’s Office should a woman deputy be shot down.
Making his decision took some time, but at last Papas drew his suitcase from under the bed. Opening the lid, he lifted out the sawed-off shotgun and handful of buckshot shells taken from Sanchez’s body after killing him. The shotgun would be the weapon to use, since its deadly load would inflict a far more terrible wound at close range than would his Luger.
He placed the shotgun in a briefcase taken from one of the drawers of the dressing-table, after feeding in two fat shells. Making sure that his Luger could not be detected under his arm, he left the room and went through the reception lobby towards the street. The desk clerk gave Papas hardly a glance. If he thought Mr. Hastings—the name Papas had used to register—looked familiar, he placed it down to a resemblance to somebody seen in a television show. The way the clerk saw it, everybody looked vaguely like somebody seen on the television. Having paid in advance for his room, and being quiet in his habits, Mr. ‘Hastings’ attracted no attention to himself and his departure carrying a briefcase was no cause for alarm.
During his time as a terrorist, and since, Papas had learned the wisdom of making sure his belly was full before he went on a caper. A man never knew what turn of fate might arise and prevent him from taking his next meal. Finding a diner, he went in and ordered a meal. All around him people discussed the killing and its aftermath. The more Papas heard, the more he knew that he must make a big gesture. Public opinion appeared to be following the line started by the deputies, discounting the threat.
