“Okay, Ernie,” said Bond slipping behind the wheel. “I’ll take care of it.” He rammed the car into gear and moved fast off down the road and away from the blazing pyre and the frightened people who had materialized out of the dusk and were standing watching the flames, their hands up to their mouths.
“Keep goin’,” muttered Ernie Cureo. “This’ll get you near the Boulder Dam road. See anything in the mirror?”
“There’s a low-slung car with a spotlight coming after us fast,” said Bond. “Could be the Jag. About two blocks away now.” He stamped on the accelerator and the cab hissed through the deserted side street.
“Keep goin’,” said Ernie Cureo. “We gotta hide up some place and let them lose us. Tell ya what. There’s a ‘Passion Pit” just where this comes out on 95. Drive-in movie. Here we come. Slow. Sharp right. See those lights. Get in there quick. Right. Straight over the sand and between those cars. Off lights. Easy. Stop.”
The cab came to rest in the back row of half a dozen ranks of cars lined up to face the concrete screen that soared up into the sky and on which a huge man was just saying something to a huge girl.
Bond turned and looked back down the lanes of metal standards, like parking meters, from which speakers could be connected wthi your car to pick up the sound. As he watched, one or two cars drove in and ranged themselves in the rear rank. Nothing low enough for a Jaguar. But it was dark now and difficult to see and he stayed slewed round in his seat, his eyes on the entrance.
An attendant came up, a pretty girl, dressed as a pageboy, with a tray slung round her neck. “That’ll be a dollar,” she said, glancing into the car to see there was not a third customer on the floor of the cab. She had pick-ups coiled over her right arm and she took one off, plugged it into the nearest standard and hung the small speaker through the window on Bond’s side. The huge man and woman on the screen started talking heatedly.
“Coco-Cola, cigarettes, candy?” asked the girl taking the note Bond handed her.
“No, thanks,” said Bond.
“You’re welcome,” said the girl and sauntered off towards the other late arrivals.
“Mister, for Chrissake willya switch off that crap?” pleaded Ernie Cureo through his teeth. “And keep watching. We’ll give ’em a whiles more. Then get me to a doc. Dig out the slug.” His voice was weak and now that the girl had gone he was half-lying with his head against the door.
“Won’t be long, Ernie. Try and stick it.” Bond fiddled with the speaker, found the switch and silenced the wrangling voices. The huge man on the screen looked as if he was going to hit the woman and her mouth gaped in a noiseless scream.
Bond turned and strained his eyes across the dark expanse behind them. Still nothing. He glanced at the neighbouring cars. Two faces glued together. A shapeless huddle on a back seat. Two prim, rapt, elderly faces staring upwards. The glint of light on an upturned bottle.
And then a wave of musky after-shave lotion came up to his nose and a dark figure rose up from the ground and a gun was in his face, and a voice on the other side of the car beside Ernie Cureo whispered softly, “Okay, fellers. Take it easy.”
Bond looked into the suety face beside him. The eyes were smiling and cold. The wet lips parted and whispered “Out, Limey, or your pal’s cold turkey. My friend has a silencer. You and we’re goin’ for a ride.”
Bond turned his head and saw the black sausage of metal against the back of Ernie Cureo’s neck. He made up his mind. “Okay, Ernie,” he said, “better one than two. I’ll go with them. I’ll soon be back to get you to the doc. Take care of yourself.”
“Funny guy,” said suet-face. He opened the door, keeping his gun trained on Bond’s face.
“Sorry, friend,” said Ernie Cureo in a tired voice. “I guess…” but then there was a sharp thud as the gun hit him behind the ear and he slumped forward and was silent.