Read Online Amazing Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dorothy Gilman
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an old woman like me, hmm?”
Stefan grinned; it was a joke he appeared to appreciate and in such a stolid Slavic face his mirth was almost indecent. “We do not follow you—it is this one leads us here.” He pointed at Mrs. Pollifax, who stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Who would have guessed the plump American partridge would know the wily Russian fox?” As he spokehis eyes continued to roam over the garage, mercilessly assessing the possibilities of the situation. Now he moved to Colin. “You will give the key to the jeep, please,” he said, and extended his left hand, palm up, to Colin. Behind him his friend Otto also pulled out a gun.
“I say—it’s not your jeep,” Colin said indignantly. “It’s not even mine, and you’ve absolutely no right—”
“The key,” said Stefan, pressing the gun into Colin’s stomach. “Otto, open the garage doors, and quickly.”
Reluctantly, glaringly, Colin fumbled in his pocket and brought out a key that he placed in the palm of the man’s hand. “You are wise,” said Stefan. “Stay wise and you will live.” Carefully he backed up until he reached the jeep, where Madame Ferenci-Sabo had begun making feeble attempts to climb out. With one arm he shoved her down. “Sit! Did you really think we wanted only a jeep?” he said mockingly. He opened the door and slid into the front seat, his head still turned to watch them. Only when the garage doors stood wide open did he insert the key into the ignition. Over his shoulder he called, “Don’t forget our little souvenir, Otto!” To Mrs. Pollifax he said with a smile, “We do not wish to leave you emptyhanded. That would be quite unfair. We are like your pack rat, preferring always to leave something behind.”
Mrs. Pollifax turned in alarm and looked toward the courtyard. From the shadow of the bougainvillea along the left wall Otto was dragging an inert and heavy bundle. She heard Colin, near the door, say, “Good God!” and she guessed by his whitened face that the burden Otto wrestled with was human. She watched in horror as Otto dragged a man into the garage; he placed the man at Mrs. Pollifax’s feet and turned him over, and Mrs. Pollifax found herself staring into the vacant, unseeing eyes of Henry Miles. Dimly she heard Colin say, “You brutes,” but his voice sounded miles away. She stared stupidly down at Henry, tears filling her eyes as she saw the small round bullet hole in his shirt. Henry had winked at her in the London air terminal, Henry had valiantly followed her since her arrival and now he was dead at her feet.
She looked up as the engine of the jeep roared into life; Stefan thrust the gears into reverse and she jumped back asthe car virtually catapulted from the garage carrying a Magda who sat with eyes closed, her face unbelievably white. The jeep neatly turned around in the courtyard, Otto leaped in beside Magda, and the car shot up the driveway and disappeared.
“At least the petrol tank’s almost empty,” Colin said in a choked voice.
Mrs. Pollifax sank down beside Henry and looked into his face. “He’s dead,” she said in a trembling voice, and placed her hand over his heart but she could not change him. She felt a million years old and deeply shocked. It had all happened so quickly. Four minutes earlier there had been only the three of them here, talking about Yozgat. Now the jeep was gone, Henry lay dead at her feet and Magda Ferenci-Sabo had vanished a second time. Mrs. Pollifax looked across the empty garage at Colin. He was standing in the same spot, his mouth a little open in astonishment, his hand still extended to give the man the key. He closed his mouth now with a snap. “Do you know him?” he asked.
“It’s Henry.”
He nodded dumbly. “It was like a raid,” he said, and then, blinking, “They’ve taken your friend.”
“Yes. And killed Henry.” Neither of them were sensibly communicating yet.
“And stolen my uncle’s jeep.” His lips thinned
Stefan grinned; it was a joke he appeared to appreciate and in such a stolid Slavic face his mirth was almost indecent. “We do not follow you—it is this one leads us here.” He pointed at Mrs. Pollifax, who stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Who would have guessed the plump American partridge would know the wily Russian fox?” As he spokehis eyes continued to roam over the garage, mercilessly assessing the possibilities of the situation. Now he moved to Colin. “You will give the key to the jeep, please,” he said, and extended his left hand, palm up, to Colin. Behind him his friend Otto also pulled out a gun.
“I say—it’s not your jeep,” Colin said indignantly. “It’s not even mine, and you’ve absolutely no right—”
“The key,” said Stefan, pressing the gun into Colin’s stomach. “Otto, open the garage doors, and quickly.”
Reluctantly, glaringly, Colin fumbled in his pocket and brought out a key that he placed in the palm of the man’s hand. “You are wise,” said Stefan. “Stay wise and you will live.” Carefully he backed up until he reached the jeep, where Madame Ferenci-Sabo had begun making feeble attempts to climb out. With one arm he shoved her down. “Sit! Did you really think we wanted only a jeep?” he said mockingly. He opened the door and slid into the front seat, his head still turned to watch them. Only when the garage doors stood wide open did he insert the key into the ignition. Over his shoulder he called, “Don’t forget our little souvenir, Otto!” To Mrs. Pollifax he said with a smile, “We do not wish to leave you emptyhanded. That would be quite unfair. We are like your pack rat, preferring always to leave something behind.”
Mrs. Pollifax turned in alarm and looked toward the courtyard. From the shadow of the bougainvillea along the left wall Otto was dragging an inert and heavy bundle. She heard Colin, near the door, say, “Good God!” and she guessed by his whitened face that the burden Otto wrestled with was human. She watched in horror as Otto dragged a man into the garage; he placed the man at Mrs. Pollifax’s feet and turned him over, and Mrs. Pollifax found herself staring into the vacant, unseeing eyes of Henry Miles. Dimly she heard Colin say, “You brutes,” but his voice sounded miles away. She stared stupidly down at Henry, tears filling her eyes as she saw the small round bullet hole in his shirt. Henry had winked at her in the London air terminal, Henry had valiantly followed her since her arrival and now he was dead at her feet.
She looked up as the engine of the jeep roared into life; Stefan thrust the gears into reverse and she jumped back asthe car virtually catapulted from the garage carrying a Magda who sat with eyes closed, her face unbelievably white. The jeep neatly turned around in the courtyard, Otto leaped in beside Magda, and the car shot up the driveway and disappeared.
“At least the petrol tank’s almost empty,” Colin said in a choked voice.
Mrs. Pollifax sank down beside Henry and looked into his face. “He’s dead,” she said in a trembling voice, and placed her hand over his heart but she could not change him. She felt a million years old and deeply shocked. It had all happened so quickly. Four minutes earlier there had been only the three of them here, talking about Yozgat. Now the jeep was gone, Henry lay dead at her feet and Magda Ferenci-Sabo had vanished a second time. Mrs. Pollifax looked across the empty garage at Colin. He was standing in the same spot, his mouth a little open in astonishment, his hand still extended to give the man the key. He closed his mouth now with a snap. “Do you know him?” he asked.
“It’s Henry.”
He nodded dumbly. “It was like a raid,” he said, and then, blinking, “They’ve taken your friend.”
“Yes. And killed Henry.” Neither of them were sensibly communicating yet.
“And stolen my uncle’s jeep.” His lips thinned
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