The Blackbirder (1943) by Dorothy B. Hughes

Author:Dorothy B. Hughes
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Mystery & Detective, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9781558614680
Publisher: Feminist Press at CUNY
Published: 1990-01-01T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

ASSAULT ON AN INNOCENT GIRL

She had everything now to leave for good. It had been so simple. She unloosed her belt, fastened the money bag about her waist. The necklace shimmered safely in its compartment. Her pockets held all necessities, even the flashlight she'd inadvertently carried from Ansteys'. She sat down on the bed, consulted her watch. Ten past midnight. Plan a half hour to get to bed, to sleep. No longer than that. He still believed she would lead him to the Blackbirder. But not tonight. He believed she would go to bed tonight.

At twenty minutes past she turned out her lamp. There was no sound in the corridor outside. Unfortunately no keyholes or transom. Perhaps fortunately. She couldn't look out but no one could look in.

She opened the windows. The balcony below hers was dark, the small courtyard darker. If Dame Fortuna held the wheel, it was safe. By easy stages. Thirty minutes past. She put on the mackinaw, fastened it, bound her hair in the bandanna, climbed through the windows onto her tiny balcony. No one in sight below. Blaike's windows were on the other side of the corridor overlooking the patio.

She straddled the rail, clung to it with her hands, lowered herself to the one below. All quiet. Another drop, not too far to the ground. In the darkness here she couldn't be seen. A padlock and chain fastened the gate leading to the street. Danger now. She moved wirily, boosting herself up on the chain, climbing over, dropped rapidly to the street. The normally deserted back street. Deserted now.

She didn't hesitate; she turned left, up the narrow pavement, past the convent, walking quickly, quietly, purposefully. Around the corner, the Cathedral shadowy across. She met no one. There were cars, not many. She looked in each as she passed. No one seemed to lock a car in this town. She tried the third. Keys in the ignition. Enough gas registered. Calmly she drove away.

No one tried to stop her. Around the Plaza, up the wide streets past the City Hall, the police headquarters. Round the Federal building, out on the Tesuque highway. The road was passable now. Mountains lowering on either side. They couldn't hurt her. She didn't think failure; she was certain of success. Blaike wouldn't try to reach her until morning. The trip downstairs had accomplished both planned purposes. Retrieval of her possessions, lulling of any suspicion Blaike might have of her this night. Over the crest of the hill, no lights following.

In the morning he'd waste time looking for her, checking with the desk, the bus, the airport, the highway patrol. He wouldn't believe she dared run back to the place from which she'd fled. Before he checked on Popin she would be hidden. Popin must have hidden other refugees. He would keep her out of sight until the Blackbirder could fly.

Tesuque. Such a short journey now. And on. She wasn't certain of the turnoff. She clocked it, about four miles. It was there.

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