Read Knock Knock Who's There? Online
Authors: James Hadley Chase
Knock Knock Who's There? (12 page)
"If books are as good as this one," he thought, "I've been missing something."
He was finishing the cold stew and about to light a cigarette when he heard the lock turn in the cabin door. Hurriedly, he dropped his cigarette and reached for his gun.
"It's me," Freeman called and came into the small bedroom. "I think there's trouble. There are three men heading this way. They didn't see me. They're all carrying guns."
Johnny struggled upright.
"They'll be here in ten minutes or less. Come on, Johnny, I can hide you where they won't think of looking." Freeman hoisted Johnny up on his left foot. "You hop. Don't put any weight on your bad foot."
Johnny grabbed his gun and holster, then supported by Freeman, he hopped through the living-room and out into the sunshine. Freeman steered him to the big lean-to behind the cabin.
"This is my snake house," Freeman said. "You don't have to be scared. They're all in cages and can't touch you."
He manoeuvred Johnny into the semi-darkness and Johnny could hear the dry rattling sound a rattlesnake makes when alarmed. Freeman propped him up against the wall, then moving to a big eight-foot-high cage, he dragged it forward. Johnny saw the cage was alive with writhing rattlesnakes. Freeman caught hold of him and got him behind the cage and propped him against the wall.
"You'll be okay," he said. "Don't worry. I'll fix the bed. They won't know you're here," then he moved the cage back on Johnny, wedging him against the wall and out of sight.
Johnny could smell the snakes. Their movements chilled him. Leaning hard on his sound foot, keeping his injured foot slightly off the ground, he set himself to wait.
Berilli, flanked on either side by Freddy and Jack suddenly came on the clearing and Freeman's cabin.
For hours now they had combed the jungle and they were sick and tired of the search. They had become careless. Berilli had realized after three or four hours that Johnny could be lying, hidden, in any of the big thickets and by keeping still, they could have walked past him.
He realized this operation had been too hastily mounted. What they needed in this goddamn place was a dog to flush Johnny out. But now he was stuck with the operation and he was scared to go back to Massino and report no success.
He, Freddy and Jack had walked through the jungle for six gruelling hours. The only thing they had seen that moved was a snake. Then just when Berilli was about to call off the operation and admit defeat, they came on the clearing and the log cabin.
The three instinctively dodged back behind thicket.
"He could be here," Berilli said.
They started across the clearing at the cabin, then they saw a tall, thin man, wearing shabby khaki drill come out of the cabin. He walked over to the well and began drawing water.
"Jack . . . you talk to him," Berilli said.
"Not me, pal," Jack said. "You chat him up . . . I'll cover you."
"So will I," Freddy said and grinned. "You're the boss, Lu."
So Berilli moved out of the clearing, his heart thumping, wondering if Johnny was holed up in the cabin, taking aim at him through the slatted shutters.
Freeman looked up as Berilli approached him.
"Hi, stranger." His voice was soft and calm. "Have you lost your way? I haven't seen anyone this way for months."
Berilli eyed him, keeping his gull behind him, out of sight.
"You live here?" he demanded.
"That's right." Freeman was perfectly at ease. "Jay Freeman: I'm the snake man."
Berilli stiffened.
"Snakes? What do you mean?"
Patiently, Freeman explained.
"I collect serum for hospitals." He paused, looking directly into Berilli's suspicious eyes. "Who are you?"
"Have you seen a short, thick-set man with black hair, around forty years of age? We're looking for him."
"As I said, you're the first human I've seen in months."
Berilli looked uneasily at the cabin.
"You'd better not lie to me. If he's in there, you're in trouble and I mean trouble."
"What's all this about?" Freeman asked mildly. "Are you the police?"
Ignoring the question, Berilli signalled to the other two who came out from behind the thicket.
"We'll take a look at your cabin," he said to Freeman as Jack and Freddy joined him. "Go ahead, bright boy, and stop flapping with your mouth."
Freeman walked into the cabin. Using him as a shield, Berilli entered behind him, his gun in hand, his heart pounding, while Jack and Freddy waited outside. After a quick search, pushing Freeman always ahead of him, Berilli came out of the cabin and into the sunshine. He shook his head at the other two.
"What is that?" he demanded, seeing the lean-to.
"My snake house," Freeman said. "Have a look. I've just caught a cranebrake rattler. Have you ever seen one?"
Crouched behind the snake cage, Johnny heard every word and he thumbed back the safety on his gun. He could hear a soft whistling sound and he knew who was out there: Freddy, a Mafia killer and more dangerous than any of the snakes, writhing and rattling around him.
"Go ahead," Berilli said and prodded Freeman with his gun.
Again sheltering behind Freeman, Berilli peered into the lean-to, saw the cages, smelt the snake smell and backed away.
He crossed over to Freddy and Jack.
"Let's get out of here," he said. "We could search this goddamn jungle for months and still not find him."
"That's the brightest thing you've said so far," Jack said.
Freeman watched the three men move off into the jungle, then he fetched a bucket of water from the well and returned to his cabin. He waited some ten minutes, then leaving the cabin, he moved into the jungle as quietly and as swiftly as one of his snakes. Without being seen or heard, he caught up with the three men and watched them meet up with six 'other men, watched them talk, then saw them get into two cars and drive away.
Then he returned to his cabin to release Johnny from his hidingplace and assure him the hunt was over.
SIX
For eight, long boring days, Johnny remained in Freeman's cabin. During this time his beard made progress and his ankle mended.
Looking at himself in the mirror in the shower room, he saw how the beard altered his appearance and he felt confident, unless he was examined closely, that no one-would recognize him. He had got Freeman to drive into town and buy him two sets of khaki drill, a bush jacket and a bush hat, together with toilet things, shirts, socks and a suitcase.
Although, from time to time, his ankle still ached, he could now walk fairly well and he felt it was time to move on. He decided to pick up a south-bound truck on the freeway and make his way to Jackson. He was sure Fuselli would give him shelter for a time, and then when the heat had cooled off, he would go back and collect the money. By that time, his grey-black beard would be impressive and he felt the risk of returning had to be taken. With some of the money he had taken from Sammy, he would buy a used car, and still have plenty in hand.
But first, he must have information.
So on the eighth day, now dressed in khaki drill and wearing the bush hat, he asked Freeman to drive him into town.
"I've got to make a phone call," he explained.
Johnny hadn't seen much of Freeman during his stay at the cabin. The snake man went off at dawn and seldom got back until dusk. They then spent a couple of hours together over supper and then both went to bed. But during those hours, Freeman never asked questions, talked easily about every subject under the sun and encouraged Johnny to read, and Johnny discovered the magic of books. The books he liked best were books on travel and sailing and Freeman had a good selection.
"Sure," Freeman said. "Are you thinking of leaving? You can stay here as long as you like, Johnny."
"I've got to get on."
"I'll miss you."
This was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to Johnny and to hide his emotion, he gave Freeman a light punch on his arm.
"Yeah . . . that makes two of us, and I won't forget what you've done for me. Now listen, I've plenty of money. I want you to have two hundred for all you've done for me. Buy yourself a telly or something to remember me by."
Freeman laughed.
"Appreciated but not accepted. That's one thing I never need . . . money. You keep it. You may need it . . . I won't."
They drove into town early the following morning. Johnny felt naked and his eyes darted continuously to right and left. Under his bush jacket was his gun and he kept fingering the butt. But he saw no one suspicious. He went into the small hotel and shut himself in a call booth. He looked at his watch: the time was 08.10. Sammy should be getting up by now. He dialled the number and waited.
Sammy answered almost immediately.
"Sammy . . . this is Johnny."
He heard Sammy catch his breath.
"I—I don't want to talk to you, Mr. Johnny. You could get me into bad trouble. I've got nothing to say to you."
"Listen!" Johnny put a snap in his voice. "You're my friend, Sammy . . . remember? I've done a lot for you . . . now it's your turn."
He heard Sammy moan softly and he could imagine him, sweating, grey-faced and trembling.
"Yeah. What is it, Mr. Johnny? You took all my money. That wasn't nice. You're in real bad, and if they knew you were talking to me, I'd be in real bad too."
"They won't know. Sammy . . . I had to have that money. You'll get it back. I promise. Don't worry about it. Are they looking for me?"
"They sure are! This Mr. Tanza is handling it! I heard the boss and Mr. Tanza talking while I was driving them. I don't know where you are and I don't want to know, but they're looking for you in Florida. They talked of someone called Fuselli. Toni and Ernie are out there. You've got to be careful, Mr. Johnny."
Johnny stiffened. So the heat really was on! How the hell had Massino got on to Fuselli?
"Have you gone crazy, Mr. Johnny?" Sammy went on, his voice husky. "You really took all that money? I can't believe it! Mr. Joe is like he's demented. I'd sooner collect than drive him. He scares me to death the way he acts!"
"I'll call you in a little while, Sammy," Johnny said quietly. "Keep your ears open. Don't worry about your money . . . you'll get it back. Just listen to everything the boss says. I need your help."
"Mr. Johnny, please keep away from me. If they find out . . . please, Mr. Johnny. You keep my money. Just keep away from me," and Sammy hung up.
Johnny stood motionless in the stuffy booth, staring out into the lounge of the hotel, feeling his heart beating heavily and a chill of fear down his spine. By going to Fuselli as he had planned, he could have walked into a trap. Now he really was on his own.
Leaving the booth, he went out into the sunshine and got in the car by Freeman's side.
"Okay?" Freeman asked as he started the motor.
Johnny thought of Carlo Tanza. This meant the Mafia organization were now hunting for him and they had somehow guessed he was heading south. They had somehow got on to Fuselli. He had a feeling of being in a net. For a moment, the net was above him and around him, but he still had room to manoeuvre.
"Not so good," he said' and lit a cigarette. "Don't worry your brains about me. I'll move on tonight."
Freeman glanced at him, then drove back to the cabin in silence.
When the two men entered the cabin, Freeman said, "Look Johnny, two heads are better than one. Do you feel like talking or do you still want to handle this on your own?"
For a brief moment, Johnny was tempted to pour out the whole story, then he thought of the danger Freeman could be in. If the Mafia even suspected he had hidden here, they would torture Freeman until he talked, then kill him.
"I'll handle it," he said. "You keep out of it."
"As bad as that?" Freeman looked searchingly at him.
"That's it . . . as bad as that."
"You'll come out of it, Johnny. There's something about you . . . guts . . . I don't know, but I'll put my money on you."
"Not too much," Johnny said and forced a smile. "I'd hate you to lose it." He went into his room, shut the door and lay on the bed.
What was he to do? he asked himself. He longed to go south, but if they knew that was where he was heading, wouldn't it be asking for trouble? He considered this. On the face of it, it would be risking a lot, but maybe the risk was worth it. Maybe, after a while, they would decide he hadn't gone south after all and start looking elsewhere. Anyway, wherever he went they would be hunting for him and he wanted so badly to go south.
For an hour or so, he lay there, experiencing a sick feeling of being trapped, then a tap came on the door and Freeman came in.
"I've work to do, Johnny," he said. "I won't be back until late. Why not stay on here?"
"No." Johnny got off the bed. "It'll work out as you said. I'll be gone by the time you get back. I want to say thanks." He stared for a long moment at Freeman. "You may not know it, but I'd be dead by now but for you."
"I didn't know it was that bad. Those three men . .?" Johnny held out his hand.
"The less you know . . ."
The two men shook hands. There was a pause, then Freeman went away. Through the window, Johnny watched him striding into the jungle, carrying his sack.
So what was he going to do now? He fingered his St. Christopher medal. Why wait until dark? Why not go now? He felt the urge to get out of this suffocating jungle and on to the freeway. He took out his gun, checked it, then slid it back into its holster. Then he picked up his suitcase, looked around the little room, feeling a pang of loneliness to be leaving it, then walked out into the sunshine and started down the jungle path that would eventually bring him to the freeway.
It took him half an hour to get out of the jungle and to the freeway. This long walk made his ankle ache. Once on the freeway, he kept on, limping a little until he was some two miles from Freeman's cabin. Then he paused, leaning against a tree and watched the traffic roar by.
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