Read Online Cry of the Hunter by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online Page A

filthy night. They’d have a job finding us in those country lanes.’ He caught the boy by the shoulder and pushed him through the door. ‘Come on, you,’ he said over his shoulder to Rogan. ‘We haven’t any time to waste.’
    He ran through the dripping gravestones after the boy. The door stood ajar in the wall and when he reached the car Murphy was already fumbling with the keys. He opened the door and scrambled behind the wheel and Fallon followed him into the front seat. The boy switched on the ignition and pressed the starter. The engine coughed protestingly, shuddered for a brief moment, and roared into life. ‘Where’s Rogan?’ Murphy demanded and there was a crack in his voice.
    Fallon swore violently and got out of the car and went back inside the graveyard. As he stood fuming and peering through the gathering gloom Rogan appeared, running. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Fallon snarled.
    ‘I forgot something,’ Rogan said breathlessly and Fallon pushed him towards the car and they scrambled in.
    Murphy took the car away in a burst of speed and Fallon grasped him by the shoulder. ‘Now steady down,’ he said. ‘We can’t afford to attract any attention. Just take us through the town at a nice steady thirty miles an hour.’
    The boy was sweating and Fallon lit a cigarette and pushed it between his tips. ‘Thanks, Mr. Fallon,’ Murphy said. ‘I’ll be all right.’
    ‘You’re doing fine, son,’ Fallon told him. He lit a cigarette himself and leaned back in the seat watching the road ahead of them.
    ‘The kid’s scared to death,’ Rogan said. ‘What good is he? We should drop him.’
    Fallon turned and said deliberately, ‘If I drop anyone it’ll be you.’ Rogan lapsed into silence and Fallon turned his eyes back to the road. He knew the hopelessness of their position. Already the town might be ringed with police. By the time they got the old priest’s message they would have every road blocked with patrol cars. Their only chance was to beat the road blocks. Even as this thought flashed through his mind Murphy slowed down until they were crawling. There was a queue of cars in front of them, and Fallon realized with a sinking heart that they were too late.
    ‘What shall I do, Mr. Fallon?’ Murphy said, and now his voice was steady and controlled.
    ‘Cut into the next side street,’ Fallon told him. ‘We’ll try the other road.’ But he knew they were wasting their time.
    The car twisted and turned through the back streets and came out into another main road. As they emerged from the turning Fallon saw another procession of vehicles in front of them and he tapped the boy on the shoulder and said, ‘Turn right and go back to the centre of town.’
    Rogan was cracking. There was panic in his voice. ‘What are we going to do? We don’t stand a chance.’
    ‘Shut your mouth!’ Fallon told him, and at that moment he glanced into the mirror and saw the black car that was creeping up behind them. ‘Get moving!’ he screamed and Murphy rammed his foot down on the pedal and took the car away in a burst of speed.
    ‘It’s the polis,’ Rogan said. ‘We’ll never beat a car like that.’
    ‘They must have seen us turn away from that queue,’ Fallon said. He watched the speedometer needle creep up to sixty and there it stopped.
    ‘My foot’s flat on the boards,’ Murphy said desperately.
    Fallon nodded and glanced back. The police car was pulling up on them. ‘This is what we’ll do. Change down and take the next turning on your right. Then take the first turning on the left, brake hard, and we’ll jump out. Is that clear?’
    The boy nodded vigorously and Rogan said, ‘Pass me your gun and I’ll try and catch their tyres.’
    ‘No guns,’ Fallon said. ‘Only one of us has committed murder so far.’
    Rogan’s curse was drowned in the squeal of brakes as Murphy changed down, braked, and skidded the car into the next turning. They were rushing along a dark side street