The Shadow 278 by Maxwell Grant

Author:Maxwell Grant
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

XI.

SPEEDING from the outskirts of Elcor, the two cars crossed a concrete bridge that took them to the other side of the roaring river, below the big industrial plant. Already an emergency siren was shrieking from the factory, signifying that the mystery explosion had been heard, but that didn’t bother the bank robbers, since they intended to leave Elcor far behind them.

At least it didn’t bother them yet.

A few hundred yards below the bridge, the river met an old dam, which formed a broad ledge straight across it. Supplanted by a modern dam a few miles further upstream, this older specimen was nothing more than a landmark. In fact, the water no longer trickled over it, but found openings through the dam itself; hence the river’s rush was altered into a melee of jets and faucets that teemed into the gorge below the dam.

This was to the left of the highway. Checking by a mileage list, the man who sat beside the first car’s driver gave the tally:

“Three and four tenths to go. That’s where the road from the other valley hooks with this.”

“The other valley?” queried the driver. “You mean the road that comes through Oroco?”

“That’s right. Over a new bridge. They join like a fork.”

“Which way do we go?”

“Straight ahead, of course, unless we have to double back through Oroco in the other valley. Only that wouldn’t be smart.”

The driver gave a grunt of agreement.

“One thing, though.” The man with the chart made a careful reference by holding it to the dashlight. “If we have to double back, we can hit the dirt.”

“What dirt?”

“An old road over there.” The fellow thumbed to his left, to indicate the other side of the river. “It comes back up toward Elcor, then climbs a hill on the other side of the dam. It would get us across to the Oroco road without hitting the dam.”

“How’s the dirt road rated?”

“X plus, which means it’s pretty bad.”

“Good. We won’t take it.”

Keeping the car whizzing toward the fork, the driver seemed set in his decision until he reached the final grade. Then, with an oath, he began to slam the brakes. Before the other man could inquire the reason, the driver snarled it.

“Look at that heap, will you? Swinging right over from the bridge like it wanted to block us!”

It wasn’t a case of wanting. The car from the bridge was doing it! Arriving with a sudden twist, the car had apparently tried to swing sharply toward Elcor, then had balked right where it was. At its present angle, it blocked the road completely.

“I’ll back him out of there!”

The crook who handled the mileage chart shoved the paper in his pocket and produced a revolver instead. As the driver braked the car, the gunner opened fire. What he got was a prompt response, in kind.

The man at the wheel of the blockading car was Rod Ballard. Among other things, he had slanted the car so that Harry Vincent could take proper aim with an automatic.

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