Read Online Cry of the Hunter by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jack Higgins
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lined with shabby terrace houses. Murphy switched on both headlights and they picked out the next turning when the car was still some way from it. He changed down again and braked. The car skidded broadside on and the wheels bumped across the corner of the pavement and then they were safe and rushing forward into the darkness. The lights picked up the entrance to a narrow alley. ‘Now!’ Fallon cried, clapping him on the shoulder. Murphy slammed his foot hard down on the brake and the car drifted at an angle and lurched against a lamp post with a sickening crunch.
For a moment there was silence. Somewhere a dog barked hollowly through the dark and Fallon wrenched open the door and jumped out. Murphy scrambled after him. ‘You all right?’ Fallon said.
The boy nodded. ‘Bit of a bump, but it’s nothing.’
Rogan joined them, cursing viciously. ‘What a bloody mess,’ he said.
‘Bigger one if we stand here talking,’ Fallon told him and at that moment the lights of the police car turned into the end of the street.
‘Follow me,’ Murphy said. ‘I know this alley pretty well. We’ll give them the slip yet.’ He plunged into the alleyway and the others followed him.
Murphy twisted and turned through several back streets and alleys and after a while he stopped and held up his hand. ‘What’s wrong?’ Fallon demanded.
‘I’m trying to tell if they’re following,’ Murphy said.
Faintly in the darkness they could hear shouting and the noise of motor cars driving up. ‘Christ, they’re on to us now, all right,’ Fallon said. ‘Keep going.’
They commenced to run again and Murphy led the way as before. They cut across some waste ground where slum property was being demolished and ran into a long and narrow alley that seemed to go on for ever. Just before reaching the end Murphy called breathlessly over his shoulder, ‘Watch it now. We’re going to cross a busy street.’ He slowed down to a jog-trot and turned the corner straight into the arms of a policeman.
As the constable fumbled for his revolver Murphy grappled with him and screamed, ‘Run for it, Mr. Fallon! Run for it!’
They went down in a mass of struggling limbs and Rogan cut straight across the road and disappeared down another side street. Fallon danced nimbly out of the way and as the constable rolled uppermost, he lifted his foot into the side of the man’s neck. He subsided with a groan and Fallon jerked Murphy to his feet and dragged him across the road. The passers-by who had stopped to watch, quickly scattered, and Fallon and the boy plunged into the gloom of the side street.
As they neared the end of the street they saw Rogan standing under a lamp, poised for flight. ‘I thought you were right behind me,’ he said.
For a moment Fallon felt like smashing a fist into his face, but he resisted the impulse. ‘Are you all right?’ he said to Murphy.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ the boy said. ‘He didn’t hurt me at all.’
Behind them a police whistle sounded faintly on the wind and a car turned into the end of the street. ‘Where to now?’ Fallon demanded.
‘Follow close behind me,’ Murphy said. ‘There’s just one chance left to us.’
He hurried along the street and darted into another alley. At the end of it was a low wall and when Fallon leaned over, he could hear the gurgle of water. Murphy lowered himself down and dropped into the water with a splash and Fallon and Rogan followed. The water was icy cold and knee-keep. Rogan cursed and Fallon told him sharply to be quiet. He touched the boy on the shoulder. ‘We’re ready,’ he said and Murphy nodded and began to wade along the stream.
Brick walls towered on either side of them and once they had to go through a narrow tunnel that stretched for fifty or sixty yards. There was a pungent odour of decay and Fallon’s nose wrinkled in disgust. He could guess what the stream was used for. They progressed in silence for about half an hour and all sounds of pursuit
For a moment there was silence. Somewhere a dog barked hollowly through the dark and Fallon wrenched open the door and jumped out. Murphy scrambled after him. ‘You all right?’ Fallon said.
The boy nodded. ‘Bit of a bump, but it’s nothing.’
Rogan joined them, cursing viciously. ‘What a bloody mess,’ he said.
‘Bigger one if we stand here talking,’ Fallon told him and at that moment the lights of the police car turned into the end of the street.
‘Follow me,’ Murphy said. ‘I know this alley pretty well. We’ll give them the slip yet.’ He plunged into the alleyway and the others followed him.
Murphy twisted and turned through several back streets and alleys and after a while he stopped and held up his hand. ‘What’s wrong?’ Fallon demanded.
‘I’m trying to tell if they’re following,’ Murphy said.
Faintly in the darkness they could hear shouting and the noise of motor cars driving up. ‘Christ, they’re on to us now, all right,’ Fallon said. ‘Keep going.’
They commenced to run again and Murphy led the way as before. They cut across some waste ground where slum property was being demolished and ran into a long and narrow alley that seemed to go on for ever. Just before reaching the end Murphy called breathlessly over his shoulder, ‘Watch it now. We’re going to cross a busy street.’ He slowed down to a jog-trot and turned the corner straight into the arms of a policeman.
As the constable fumbled for his revolver Murphy grappled with him and screamed, ‘Run for it, Mr. Fallon! Run for it!’
They went down in a mass of struggling limbs and Rogan cut straight across the road and disappeared down another side street. Fallon danced nimbly out of the way and as the constable rolled uppermost, he lifted his foot into the side of the man’s neck. He subsided with a groan and Fallon jerked Murphy to his feet and dragged him across the road. The passers-by who had stopped to watch, quickly scattered, and Fallon and the boy plunged into the gloom of the side street.
As they neared the end of the street they saw Rogan standing under a lamp, poised for flight. ‘I thought you were right behind me,’ he said.
For a moment Fallon felt like smashing a fist into his face, but he resisted the impulse. ‘Are you all right?’ he said to Murphy.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ the boy said. ‘He didn’t hurt me at all.’
Behind them a police whistle sounded faintly on the wind and a car turned into the end of the street. ‘Where to now?’ Fallon demanded.
‘Follow close behind me,’ Murphy said. ‘There’s just one chance left to us.’
He hurried along the street and darted into another alley. At the end of it was a low wall and when Fallon leaned over, he could hear the gurgle of water. Murphy lowered himself down and dropped into the water with a splash and Fallon and Rogan followed. The water was icy cold and knee-keep. Rogan cursed and Fallon told him sharply to be quiet. He touched the boy on the shoulder. ‘We’re ready,’ he said and Murphy nodded and began to wade along the stream.
Brick walls towered on either side of them and once they had to go through a narrow tunnel that stretched for fifty or sixty yards. There was a pungent odour of decay and Fallon’s nose wrinkled in disgust. He could guess what the stream was used for. They progressed in silence for about half an hour and all sounds of pursuit
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