Burbee began to wonder audibly if that was safe. I put the car in gear and shot ahead before he could convince Thompson. He tried, all the way out, but rather uselessly. When we reached the point on the highway many minutes later where the lane ran alongside the lake, I kept on going. I didn’t want to drive down that lane.
Burbee shut up then, curious as to what I was doing. He soon found out. About a mile past the lake we turned left on a graveled country road and killed the lights. We ambled along slowly, watching the fence line, when a gate suddenly appeared. A gate opening into a pasture.
I put the car through the gate and we bumped across the pasture to still another fence, keeping in a general direction leading back to the lake. There was no gate in the second fence. It was ordinary wire, not barbed, so I made a gate. Thompson groaned. On the other side were the remains of last season’s corn crop and a narrow lane running alongside it where the farmer had driven his plow and team. We followed this lane to the end, left the old cornfield through still another rickety gate, and were on the very edge of the vast plot of snow-covered park land. The lake was some distance away, near the center of the park. Far back from the lake loomed the dark bulk of the barn, and near us, still black but not so large, was the caretaker’s cottage. It had probably once been a fisherman’s cottage and was fairly close to the water.
I stopped the car and peered ahead over the snowy ground. There was no moon, but the sky was bright. As I watched, a car turned in from the highway, doused its lights, and began the slow journey to the barn.
“See that car?” I said to Trudy over my shoulder. “If we have to get out of here in a hurry, we’ll use that road. You’ll be driving. Think you can make it?”
She probably grinned behind my back. “You bet!”
We remained there at the cornfield gate until the car had discharged a couple of passengers and started back to town. Eleanor followed it with her eyes.
“That’s probably Doris,” she commented.
I asked, “Does Swisher always use women for that?”
“Yes sir.”
“The psychological effect upon the suckers, I presume,” Thompson commented dryly.
“Could be. Where does he get all the girls, Eleanor?”
Her answer was vague and evasive. I thought I knew; knew in her case, at least. I threw a shot in the dark.
“You came by way of Mexico, didn’t you?”
The shot told. She jumped and wanted to know how I knew. I said that I had guessed. I asked her how long she and Leonore had been in the country. She said since they were children. She didn’t know how many years. The United States has revoked some of the restrictions formerly imposed on Chinese immigration, but that doesn’t mean the Chinese who entered the country illegally were free to stay.
Thompson seized that one. “You realize, don’t you, that this admission will mean deportation?”
She shrugged and said she wasn’t worried about anything like that... not now.
That should have tipped me off as to what was in her mind, but I missed the boat again, Louise. I didn’t give it another thought at the time.
After the other car had reached the highway and gone towards town, I started the car, fed it a rich burst, and shut off the motor, hoping to coast all the way to the cottage. We stopped several yards away. I was afraid to use the motor again. There was nothing stirring, anywhere.
Thompson was nervous. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Damned sure. Do you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“All right. Keep your lip stiff. Stay hidden back there until Eleanor and I get inside. Put Trudy in the front seat. At the first sign of trouble, signal us and we’ll be out so fast you’ll wish you started the motor first.
“If there isn’t any trouble, follow us in after maybe five or ten minutes. I’m banking on someone being in there. If I get the drop on him, I’ll signal you. If he gets the drop on me, wait around a few minutes and come in behind him. Got it?”
“I’m away ahead of you.” But he still didn’t like it.
I eased Eleanor out of the car and asked her if she was scared. She didn’t answer, but when I took her arm it was quivering. So was mine. We slipped across the snow to the house, slowly, because Eleanor was having difficulty in walking. I was holding my gun in my right hand and supporting her with my left arm.
I led her to the side of the house nearest the front door, propped her against the wall, and told her to wait there a minute. Circling the house flat against the wall, ducking under the windows, I came to the telephone wires fastened to the side of the house. They led from the barn, to a pole, to the house, down its side and into the basement. With as little noise as possible I ripped them loose. Then I went back to Eleanor.
Silently she pointed to the unused mailbox. The key was inside. Damn funny place for a key, I thought. People should have better sense.
