"We're looking for someone," McGarrity said cautiously.

"Lawmen, yes?"

"Chief of Police McGarrity."

"Honored, I'm sure. Well, Chief, you're wasting your time. Hot trail here, cold on the other side. So the party you're looking for got off halfway across."

"You saw them?" McGarrity asked suspiciously.

"Hah! More than one, eh? No, sir. Just happened by right now. But if I was on the run from the law that's what I'd do, because it's been done hundreds of times. You can get out midway, walk half a mile, even a mile, upstream or downstream. Dozens of little rivulets come into this creek. You could turn up any of those, go a mile into the swamp without setting foot on dry land. Wouldn't find them this side of Christmas, Chief."

"How deep is the creek?"

"Fifteen inches. If that."

"Then, why the boat? I mean, with those boots you could walk across without getting your feet wet."

The stranger looked almost shocked. "No sirree. Takes me an hour every morning to polish up them critters." It was a.s.sumed that he was Alistair MsleLean referring to his boots. "Besides, there're the water moccasins." He seemed to have a rooted aversion to snakes. "The boat? Come the rains, the creek's up to here." He touched his chest.

McGarrity called the dog handlers to return. Mitch.e.l.l said to the stranger: "Anyplace in the swamp where a helicopter could land?"

"Sure. More firm land out there than there is swampland. Never seen any helicopters, though. Yes, lots of clearings."

The dog handlers and dogs disembarked. Leaving the stranger to flick some invisible dust off his boots they made their way back to the station wagon. Mitch.e.l.l said: "Wait a minute. I've got an idea." He opened the two plastic bags containing the dressing gowns and presented them to the dogs again. He then walked back up the rutted lane, past the two cars and vans, beckoning the dog handlers to follow him, which they did, almost having to drag the reluctant dogs behind them.

After about twenty yards the reluctance vanished. The dogs yelped and strained at their leashes. For another twenty yards they towed their handlers along behind them, then abruptly stopped and circled a few times before sitting down dispiritedly. Mitch.e.l.l crouched and examined the surface of the lane. The others caught up with him.

McGarritty said: "What gives, then?"

158.

"This." Mitch.e.l.l pointed to the ground. 'There was another vehicle here. You can see where its back wheels spun when it started to reverse. The kidnapers guessed we'd be Using dogs-it wasn't all that hard a guess. So they carried the girls twenty yards or so, to break the scent, before setting them down again."

"Right smart of you, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l, right smart." McGarrity didn't look as pleased as his words suggested. "So the birds have flown, eh? And now we haven't the faintest idea what the getaway vehicle looks like."

Roomer said: "Somebody's flown, that's for sure. But maybe only one or two. Maybe they've gone to borrow a helicopter."

"A helicopter?" The waters didn't have to be very deep for Chief McGarrity to start floundering.

With a trace of weary impatience Mitch.e.l.l said: "It could be a double bluff. Maybe they reversed the procedure and took the girls back to the station wagon again. Maybe they're still in the swamp, waiting for a helicopter to come arid pick them up. You heard the old boy back there-he said there were plenty of places in the swamp where a helicopter could set down."

McGarrity nodded sagely and appeared to ponder the matter deeply. The time had come, he felt, for him to make a positive contribution. "The swamp's out. Hopeless. So I'll have to concentrate on the helicopter angle."

159.

AHstair Mitch.e.l.l said: "How do you propose to do that?"

"Just you leave that to me." Roomer said: "That's hardly fair, Chief. We've given you our complete confidence. Don't you think we're ent.i.tled to some in return?"

"Well, now." McGarrity appeared to ruminate, although he was secretly pleased to be asked the question, as Roomer had known he would be. "If the chopper doesn't get in there, it can't very well lift them out, can it?"

"That's a fact," Roomer said solemnly. "So I station marksmen round this side of the swamp. It's no big deal to bring down a low-flyine chopper."

Mitch.e.l.l said: "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"No, indeed." Roomer shook his head. "The law frowns on murder."

"Murder?" McGarrity stared at them. "Who's talking about murder?"

'We are," Mitch.e.l.l said. "Rifle or machine-gun fire could kill someone inside the helicopter. If it brings down the helicopter they'd all probably die. Maybe there are criminals aboard, but they're ent.i.tled to a fair trial. And has it occurred to you that the pilot will almost certainly be an innocent party with a pistol pointed at his head?" McGarrity, clearly, had not thought of that. "Not going to make us very popular, is it?"

Seawttch McGarrity winced. Even the thought of unpopularity and the forthcoming election made him feel weak inside.

"So what the devil do we do?"

Roomer was frank. "I'll be d.a.m.ned if I know. You can post observers. You can even have a grounded helicopter standing by to chase the other one when it takes off. // it ever comes in the first place. We're only guessing."

"No more we can do here," Mitch.e.l.l said. "We've already missed too many appointments today. We'll be in touch."

Back on the highway Roomer said: "How do you think he'd do as a dogcatcher?"

"Place would be overrun by stray dogs in a few months. How much faith have you got in this idea that they might use a helicopter?"

"A lot. If they just wanted to change cars they wouldn't have gone through this elaborate rigmarole. They could have parked their station wagon out of sight almost anyplace. By apparently going into hiding in the swamp they wanted to make it look as though they were preparing to hole up in there for some time. They hadn't figured on our backing-your backtracking-up the lane."

"We're pretty sure their destination is the Seawitch. We're pretty sure they'll use a helicopter. Which helicopter and pilot would you use?"

itti Alistalr M aeLean r "Lord Worth's. Not only are his pilots almost certainly the only ones who know the exact co-ordinates of the Seawitch, but those distinctly marked North Hudson helicopters are the only ones that could approach the Seawitch without raising suspicion." Roomer reached for the phone, fiddled with the wave-band control and raised Lord Worth's house. "Jim?" "Go ahead, Mr. Roomer." "We're coming back there. Look for Lord Worth's address book. Probably right by you in your radio room. Make us a list of the names and addresses of his helicopter pilots. Is the gatekeeper at the heliport on the radio-phone, too?"

"Yes."

"Get that for us too, please."

"Roger,"

Roomer said to Mitch.e.l.l: "Still think we shouldn't warn La.r.s.en about our suspicions?"

"That's for sure." Mitch.e.l.l was very definite. 'The Seawitch is La.r.s.en's baby, and the kind of reception he'd prepare for them might be a bit overenthusiastic. How'd you like to explain to Lord Worth how come his daughters got caught in the crossfire?"

"No way!" Roomer spoke with some feeling. "Or even explain to yourself how Melinda got shot through the lung?"

Roomer ignored him. "What if we're wrong about Worth's pilots?"

'Then we turn the whole thing over to that ace detective, McGarrity." "So we'd better be right." They were right. They were also too late.

John Campbell was both an avid fisherman and an avid reader. He had long since mastered the techniques of indulging his two pleasures simultaneously. A creek, fairly popular with fish, ran within twenty feet of his back porch. Campbell was sitting on a canvas chair, parasol over his head, alternating every page with a fresh cast of his line, when Durand and one of his men, stocking-masked and holding guns in their hands, came into his line of vision. Campbell rose to his feet, book still in hand.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"You. You're Campbell, aren't you?"

"What if I am?"

"Like you to do a little job for us."

"What job?"

"Fly a helicopter for us."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned if I will!"'

"So you are Campbell. Come along."

Following the gesturing of their guns, Campbell moved between the two men. He was within one foot of Durand's gun hand when he chopped the side of his hand on the wrist that held the gun. Durand grunted hi pain, the gun fell to the ground and a second later the two men were locked together, wrestling, kicking and punching Alislnir Macnn f.1 with a fine disregard for the rules of sport, altering position so frequently that Durand's henchman at first found no opportunity to intervene. But the opportunity came very soon. The unsportsmanlike but effective use of Campbell's right knee doubled Durand over in gasping agony, but enough instinct was left him to seize Campbell's shirt as he fell over backward. This was Campbell's downfall in more ways than one, for the back of his head was now nakedly vulnerable to a swung automatic.

The man who had felled Campbell now pulled him clear, allowing Durand to climb painfully to his feet, although still bent over at an angle of forty-five degrees. He pulled off his stocking mask as if to try to get more air to breathe. Durand was Latin American, with a pale coffee-colored face, thick black curling hair and a pencil-line mustache; he might even qualify as handsome when the twisted lines of agony ceased to contort his face. He straightened inch by inch and finally obtained a modic.u.m of breath- enough, at least, to allow him to announce what he would like to do with Campbell.

"Some other time, Mr. Durand. He can't very well fly a chopper from a hospital bed."

Durand painfully acknowledged the truth of this. "I hope you didn't hit nun too hard." "Just a tap." "Tie him, tape him and blindfold him."

104.

Durand was now a scarce twenty degrees off the vertical. His helper left for the car and returned hi moments with cord, tape and blindfold. Three minutes later they were on then1 way, with a rug-covered and still unconscious Campbell on the floor at the back. Resting comfortably on the rug were Durand's feet-he still didn't feel quite up to driving. Both men had then* masks off now-even in the free-wheeling state of Florida men driving with stocking masks on were likely to draw more than pa.s.sing attention.

Mitch.e.l.l glanced briefly at the list of names and addresses Robertson had given them. "Fine. But what are these checks opposite five of the names?"

Robertson sounded apologetic. "I hope you don't mind-I don't want to b.u.t.t in-but I took the liberty of phoning those gentlemen to see if they would be at home when you came around. I a.s.sumed you'd be seeing them because you asked for the addresses."

Mitch.e.l.l looked at Roomer. "Why the h.e.l.l didn't you think of that?"

Roomer bestowed a cold glance on him and said to Robertson: "Maybe I should have you as a partner. What did you find out?**

"One pilot is standing by at the airport. Four of the others are at home. The one whose name I haven't checked-John Campbell-isn't home.

165.

I asked one of the other pilots about this and he seemed a bit surprised. Said that Campbell usually spends his afternoons fishing outside the back of his house. He's a bachelor and lives in a pretty isolated place."

"It figures," Roomer said. "A bachelor in isolation. The kidnapers seem to have an excellent intelligence system. The fact that he doesn't answer the phone may mean nothing-he could have gone for a walk, shopping, visiting friends. On the other- hand-"

"Yes. Especially on the other hand." Mitch.e.l.l turned to leave, then said to Robertson: "Does the gatekeeper have a listed phone number as well as the radiophone?"

"I've typed it on that list."

"Maybe we should both have you as a partner."

Mitch.e.l.l and Roomer stood on Campbell's back lawn and surveyed the scene unemotionally. The canvas chair, on its side, had a broken leg. The parasol was upturned on the gra.s.s, over an opened book. The fishing rod was in the water up to its handle and would have floated away had not the reel snagged on a shrub root Roomer retrieved the rod while Mitch.e.l.l hurried through the back doorway-the back door was wide open, as was the front. He dialed a phone number, and got an answer on the first ring.

"Lord Worth's heliport. Gorrie here."

"My name's Mitch.e.l.l. You have a police guard?"

"Mr. Mitch.e.l.l? You Lord Worth's friend?"

"Yes."

"Sergeant Roper is here."

"That all? Let me speak to him." There was hardly a pause before Roper came on the phone.

"Mike? Nice to hear from you again."

"Listen, Sergeant, this is urgent. I'm speaking from the house of John Campbell, one of Lord Worth's pilots. He has been forcibly abducted, almost certainly by some of the kidnapers of Lord Worth's daughters. I have every reason to believe-no tune for explanations now-that they're heading in your direction with the intention of hijacking one of Lord Worth's helicopters and forcing Campbell to fly it. There'll be two of them at least, maybe three, armed and dangerous. I suggest you call up reinforcements immediately. If we get them we'll break them- at least Roomer and I will; you can't, you're a law officer and your hands are tied-and we'll find where the girls are and get them back,"

"Reinforcements coming up. Then I'll look the other way."

Mitch.e.l.l hung up. Roomer was by his side. Roomer said: "You prepared to go as far as back-room persuasion to get the information we want?"

Mitch.e.l.l looked at him bleakly. "I look forward to it. Don't you?"

167.

"No. But Til go along with you." Once again Mitch.e.l.l and Roomer had guessed correctly. And once again they were too late.

Mitch.e.l.l had driven to Lord Worth's heliport with a minimum regard for traffic and speed regulations, and now, having arrived there, he realized bitterly that his haste had been wholly unnecessary.

Five men greeted their arrival, although it was hardly a cheerful meeting: Gorrie, the gateman, and four policemen. Gome and Sergeant Roper were tenderly ma.s.saging their wrists. Mitch.e.l.l looked at Roper.

"Don't tell me." Mitch.e.l.l sounded weary. "They jumped you before the reinforcements were to hand."

"Yeah." Roper's face was dark with anger. "I know it sounds like the old lame excuse, but we never had a chance. This car comes along and stops outside the gatehouse, right here. The driver-he was alone in the car-seemed to be having a sneezing fit and was holding a big wad of Kleenex to his face."

Roomer said: "So you wouldn't recognize him again?"

"Exactly. Well, we were watching this dude when a voice from the back-the back window was open-told us to freeze. I didn't even have my hand on my gun. We froze. Then he told me to drop my gun. Well, this guy was no more than five feet away . . , I dropped my gun. Dead heroes are no good to anyone. Then he told us to turn around. He was wearing a stocking mask. Then the driver came and tied our wrists behind our backs. When we turned around he was wearing a stocking mask too."

"Then they tied your feet and tied you together so that you wouldn't have any funny ideas about using a telephone?"

"That's how it was. But they weren't worried about the phones. They cut the lines before they took off.*'

"They took off immediately?"

Gome said: "No. Five minutes later. The pilots always radio-file a flight plan before take-off. I suppose these guys forced Campbell to do the same. To make it look kosher."

Mitch.e.l.l shrugged his indifference. "Means nothing. You can file a flight plan to anyplace. Doesn't mean you have to keep it. How about fuel-for the helicopters, I mean?"