The Gelignite Gang by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter Fourteen

Disappearance

Roger was at the telephone, speaking to Turnbull.

“Get all patrol cars in the vicinity to converge on Brickett Street and the telephone kiosks in the area. Have every available man in AZ Division concentrated on the spot. Double the guard at Mulcaster’s house; don’t let anyone go in or out. If Miss Denny’s picked up, radio the information. I’ll be in my car and on the way.”

“Oke.” Turnbull was abrupt.

“Then telephone Chatworth and tell him. Then go to Brickett Street yourself,” Roger said.

“Oke.”

“Be seeing you.” Roger rang off.

The footman was standing nervously at attention; Philip Sarkey was champing at the bit in the open doorway. Then suddenly he moved, disappeared, and caused a delay which didn’t seem to make sense.

He shouted from another room, “You go on, I’ll join you.”

Roger didn’t go on, but followed the sound of the voice, found himself in the doorway of a bedroom, and saw Philip on his knees beside the open door of a huge wardrobe in a bedroom which was the last word in luxury. He was tugging and swearing at a drawer, got it open, then snatched up a gun. He didn’t waste a second, but slid that into his pocket, took out a spare clip of ammunition, and pushed that into another pocket. Then he sprang up, turned, and was startled only for a second when he saw Roger.

“I’ll teach the swine,” he said. “Come on!”

The front door was open; the lift was waiting; the commissionaire was waiting at the street doors. Philip’s Rolls-Bentley was now standing just in front of Roger’s new Wolseley, and it made the pride of the Wests, mother, father, and sons, look like a midget model.

“Not yours – my car,” Roger said.

“Not on your life! I—”

“I can contact the Yard and Divisions by radio, but please yourself.” Roger reached his own car, hurt his left hand getting in, and then heard Philip by his side.

“All right, but for the love of heaven let me drive. With that hand—”

Roger slid across the front seat. “Go ahead.”

Philip didn’t even grunt his thanks. His foot went down on the accelerator, the engine roared, the car shot forward, Roger felt his heart drop with a bump; concern for the car forced everything else out of his mind for a split second. It was soon gone, but he said, “Don’t tear its guts out.”

“I’ll buy you another,” Philip rasped, and swung round a corner with everything that could screech, screeching. Roger held tight, but took the radio telephone off its hook and held it; if a message were put out, he’d hear the voice and clap the earpiece on. They reached Piccadilly.

Philip broke the silence suddenly.

“Sorry, West, ruddy insolent of me, but I’m so scared for Barbara I can hardly think.”

“Forget it, but get us there alive. I’ve seen one accident today.”

“I know what I’m doing, and I know the short cuts.”

“Miss the one to the morgue.”

Philip took his eyes off the road for a split second; only for a split second.

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