The Golden Circle (18 page)

"Okay, you can turn them back on." Colma started down.

"I only joined this thing two, or three, I guess, months ago."

"We'll take that into consideration." He patted her arm, removed the pistol from her hip pocket. "Go upstairs now, miss."

"Yes, sir."

Colma showed the girl's gun to his partner. "Saturday night special." He dropped it into a bulging overcoat pocket "Did Walker mention exactly where . . . quiet"

From some distance came a scraping sound. Door hinges creaked.

Colma crept cautiously across the stone cellar floor, 146

entered a long corridor. One bare lightbulb provided the illumination.

A lean woman in coveralls moved across the end of the hall, carrying a heavy black metal box.

"Stop right there," shouted Colma. This is the police."

Beth entered another hallway, one which forked off this one. She kept going.

When Colma and VerPoorten ran by the room she'd come out of they saw the blonde Mara sitting on the floor amidst a scatter of jewel cases and chamois bags.

"Don't try to use that gun," Colma told her.

"No," she said in a listless voice. She let the weapon slide from her hand. '1 won't."

"Where'd she go?" he asked.

To the underground river," replied Mara, pointing.

"Stay with this one," Colma told his partner.

He turned down the corridor Beth had taken. Down at the end a door hung open. He went toward it at a run.

Before he reached the doorway three shots sprayed out of the opening. "Get the hell away from me!" cried Beth from inside the door.

Colma threw himself to die ground. He was still a dozen feet from the open door. He heard a trapdoor being yanked up. The rushing sound of the hidden river came out to him.

After waiting ten seconds he made a crouching run past the doorway. He caught a glimpse of Beth poised at the lip of the opening in the floor. He got off two shots before he was past the door.

After another ten seconds he moved back toward the entrance.

There was no one in there now.

Colma went to the edge of the trap, with caution, and squinted down. He saw nothing but black water rushing by. Kneeling, he directed the beam of his

flashlight through the chill hole. There was no trace of Beth down there.

Resting on the planking beside him was the black metal box. Colma flipped the lid up. The box was crammed full of diamonds.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mimi hesitated, then came running out, from under the shelter of the shingle porch roof of the little general store. She ran across the small neat front lawn, around the white metal flag pole and up to the idling Renault. "Where'd you get this?"

The Phantom had leaned across the seat to push the passenger side door open. "Found it in the woods. As I recall, from a torn: of the garage the other day, it's one of yours."

"Yes." Mimi climbed in. "Beth's favorite, in fact. I think they used it on the ill-fated caper tonight."

Pulling away from the general store, the Phantom said, "I noticed a raincoat in the back seat."

The dark girl shrugged. "I guess I'll stay in this wet stuff awhile longer," she said. "I wonder what the car was doing in the woods."

"It was parked in a cluster of pines some distance off the road and a good way from the house," he said. "Mara and Beth must have hidden it there when they got back from the job in New York. Mara told me they'd sneaked up on the house, in case the police were waiting for them."

'You wouldn't think they'd have left the keys in it."

"They didn't. There are other ways to start a car."

"You sure you're not a master criminal in disguise? You do seem to know a lot of underground stuff."

"The police have arrived, by the way."

The girl sat up. 'I thought I heard some kind of shooting. I guessed it was probably Beth taking pot shots at you," she said. "Are we safe? I mean, will there be roadblocks?"

"It's unlikely," the Phantom told her. "We'll stick to back roads, though."

"Where are you heading?"

"For Manhattan. And you?"

Mimi smiled. "I thought I'd ride along with you. If that's okay."

"Made up your mind what you're going to do?"

"Not exactly, no," she admitted. "I've been thinking maybe I ought to go in and give myself up to Lt. Colma and turn state's evidence, or whatever it is you do. Then I also get the feeling I'd like to go away entirely. Forget New York and everything about it for a while."

"Go away to where?"

She folded her arms. "You'll think I'm square and ail-American under my glittering fagade. I was thinking I'd go back home maybe."

He nodded, concentrating on driving through the Stormy night.

Mimi asked. "What do you think I ought to do?"

"What you feel you have to do."

"Thank you, Zen master," she said. "I mean, Walker, you saved my life. Besides which, you could have turned me over to the cops. Did you find Beth, by the way?"

"Yes, I did. I'd guess the police have her in custody by now."

"What about Mara?"

"Didn't see her," he said. "Once I knew the police had arrived, I left."

'I thought you might really be going back to see Mara, that you were intending to maybe ditch me," said Mimi. After a moment, she continued, "I'm a crook, too, you know. The same as Beth and Mara."

"No, not the same." He looked toward her for a few seconds before returning his gaze to the narrow road they were traveling. '1 made a judgment about you, Mimi. I think you can be... salvaged."

"By you?"

"By yourself," he said. "All
I
've done is give you a chance. If you want to talk to Colma and see what happens, or if you want to go back home, it's up to

"You're washing your hands of me?"

"I'm giving you a chance, not advice."

"Okay," she said. "Thanks." She closed her eyes, leaned against the side window. "I'm still puzzled somewhat about your motives, Walker. What's in this for you?"

"A man was killed," he told her. "I decided the people responsible should be brought to justice. That meant locating Beth and Mara. It also meant, though I didn't know it when I began, breaking up the whole golden arrow setup."

"But why did you get involved at all, you're not a cop or anything?"

The Phantom answered, "Because it's what I had to do."

Wearing a new gray suit, again known as Devlin, the Phantom sat in an easy chair in his rooms at the Woolrich Hotel and watched the morning news on television. On the coffee table were spread the morning papers. The headline on the front page of the
New York News
said: "Nab Girl Gang on LI." The
Times
did not mention him at all in its page-fifty-three account of the rounding up of the golden arrow organization. The
News
made one reference to "a certain mystery man" who might or might not be connected with the gang.

On the newscast, a black announcer with a very up- to-date mustache was giving a description of the apprehension of the golden arrow girls. He covered the same facts the Phantom had gleaned from the newspaper accounts. Beth had been killed, or was at least presumed dead. All in all, twenty-nine girls had been captured in the raid. It was believed several of them had escaped and they were being sought. The police also promised a crackdown on the fences and underworld figures who had been cooperating with the jewel thieves. So far, mainly through the efforts of Lt. Colma of the New York Police Department's robbery division, well over one million dollars in stolen gems and jewelry had been recovered.

The Phantom got one final glimpse of Mara. The image of the mustached newsman gave way to some blurred and badly lit footage of several of the girls being taken into a Long Island police station. Mara was one of them. She was still pretty, but she looked very frail and tired.

He crossed the sunlit room to turn off the set.

The Phantom stood before the coffee table for a moment, looking down at the newspapers. He picked up the phone and asked the switchboard to place a call for him.

"Good morning, Fox Kennels."

"Good morning, this is Mr. Devlin."

"Oh . . . yes. .. . Ah .. . hold on a minute, please."

Presently a new voice spoke to him "Uh . . . good morning, Mr. Devlin," said this new man in an overly loud voice. "Well, how are you?"

"I'm fine," the Phantom replied. "I'd like to pick up my .. . dog sometime this afternoon."

"Oh . . . this afternoon. Yes . . . uh. Yes, that's fine,

just fine," said the man. Ill have him all wrapped up ... all ready to go rather. And your bill ... I'll have your bill. This afternoon, you say? Uh . . . about what time exactly, Mr. Devlin, sir? So I can have Devil all shipshape."

The Phantom smiled to himself. "Three o'clock," he said. "Did you get that? Three this afternoon."

"Three. Good. We'll see you at three o'clock then, Mr. Devlin."

The Phantom hung up. "Something is not quite right at Fox Kennels," he said.

CHAPTER THIRTY

VerPoorten was stooped over, his head tilted to one side, looking into the wire cubicle in the back room of the Fox Kennels offices. "That's a wolf for sure," he said. "Don't you think?"

Colma was at the swinging door to the outer office, frowning through the small square of blue glass in the door. "It's eleven minutes after three."

"Mr. Walker said it was a rare type of African hunting dog," said Mr. Fox. He was a small round man, wearing a white medical-style jacket with a fox-head emblem on the breast pocket. He sat, bouncing nervously every few seconds, on a wooden chair in front of the row of animal cages. "An African hunting dog."

"Nope, that's a wolf," repeated VerPoorten. 'I remember seeing what you call a documentary film a couple years back about wolves. And this sure is one." He put his head nearer to the cage which held the Phantom's Devil. "Hello, boy. Pretty tame for a wolf, isn't he?"

"You sure he said three?" Colma asked Fox.

"Yes,
here's the sheet of memo paper I wrote the time on as he spoke to me," said the little round man, waving a yellow slip of paper with the fox-head emblem in its left-hand corner. "As I told the local police, the minute I hung up I phoned them. They, I guess, notified you."

A loud many-voiced barking began outside. Then came much growling and yelping.

"What's doing that?" Fox left his chair and bounded to a back window. "Good Lord, the dogs are all running loose. I've got to go round them up before there's serious trouble."

"I'll give you a hand," offered VerPoorten. He looked toward the lieutenant. "Is that okay? I've got a way with animals."

"Go ahead," said Colma. "I'll wait here to see if our Mr. Devlin-Walker shows at all, which I'm starting to doubt."

"He did say three o'clock," insisted Fox as he rushed out the back door into the kennel yards.

VerPoorten trotted after him.

Lt. Colma turned his head suddenly to the left. A window had been opened. Down beyond the row of cages. He reached a hand inside his coat toward his gun.

"Leave it there," suggested the Phantom. He was still wearing the gray suit, and a pair of wraparound dark glasses. He grinned at the lieutenant, walked by him and locked first the door VerPoorten and Fox had used and then the door into the outer office. During all this, the barrel of his automatic never ceased pointing at Lt. Colma. "You wanted to talk to me?"