Dillinger

Dillinger went into the back room, taking the briefcase and guns. As soon as he slammed the door, Doc rushed out of the house. Thank heaven, the rain had stopped, he thought. He wanted to meet the car as far from the house as he could.

He could see it was a Model A, black as they all were, spewing a cloud of mud behind it. The man driving didn’t look familiar. Then Doc saw that a woman was sitting beside him.

The man turned the engine off and got out. ‘Evening,’ he said.

Doc nodded. He’d seen traps before, man and woman in the front, three men hiding behind the seat.

The man said, ‘Me and the Mrs kind of got lost.’

‘Where you headed?’

‘Moline.’

‘You got a long ways to go.’

‘Know that. We figured to stop in a hotel some place tonight. Or thought maybe we could pay someone to stay over.’

‘You don’t want to stay here,’ Doc said. ‘My woman has black fever.’

The man didn’t know what black fever was any more than Doc did, but he took a step backward.

‘I can get you some water,’ Doc said.

‘No, thanks,’ the man said. ‘We’ll be shoving off. When I get to the road, I turn left or right?’

‘Left’s the only way that’ll head you toward Moline. There’s a town an hour down the road got rooms above the general store.’

‘Thank you kindly. You want us to tell the sheriff or anybody to send a doctor for your wife?’

‘I’m a doctor.’

The man got back into his car. He didn’t believe Doc was a doctor any more than he believed in the man in the moon.

‘She’s dying,’ Doc said, ‘and we want to be left alone for what time’s left.’

‘I appreciate that,’ the man said, got in the car, and drove off slowly so as not to scatter too much mud in Doc’s direction. Doc hurried to the house, opened the door of the back room, said, ‘It’s OK, Johnny. Travellers. Sent them on their way.’

‘I hate this.’

‘Hate what, Johnny?’

‘Hiding like a rat. I wasn’t made for it. I want to walk around like a free man.’

‘You’ll sure be able to do that,’ Doc said, ‘soon’s the heat’s off. Johnny, I’m old enough to be your father. You been real good to me so I’m going to chance saying something.’ He wished Dillinger wasn’t looking at him with those stony eyes.

‘Say it!’

That man was sure on edge, Doc thought. ‘You take too many chances. You’ve got to head south, I don’t mean Texas, I mean all the way to Mexico, where they can’t catch you, Johnny.’

‘That means getting across the border.’

Doc poured whisky into a spare glass and pushed it across to him. ‘Listen, Johnny, a few years back I had dealings with a guy who ran people into the country from Mexico illegally. European refugees, people like that.’

‘So?’

‘West of El Paso, there’s a small town called Sutter’s Well. Used to be a silver mine. It’s a ghost town now. The back trail out of that town crosses the Mexican border. No border post, no customs, no police. That’s the way we used to bring them in.’

‘Will it take a car?’

‘Oh, sure. Dirt road, but sound enough. You need to carry plenty of spare gas. Six or seven five-gallon cans in the trunk should cover you. Couple of spare fan belts. I can let you have a set of tools. Know your way around an engine, Johnny?’

‘I know my way around a car, Doc, the way a cowboy knows his horse.’

‘Good. I can give you the address of a Mexican in El Paso, big fat fellow called Charlie, can get you a passport that looks better than the real thing, just to cover you in case you get picked up.’

‘I’m not planning to get picked up.’

‘I know you’re not planning to get a bullet hole in your radiator either, Johnny, but be damn careful.’

‘That Ford out there is going to be hotter than hell when Harvey gets back to town. I’ll need to switch cars.’

‘I can help you there,’ Doc said eagerly. ‘You take me down to the south barn in the woods. I’ll surprise you. Here, better take your twelve thousand back. And take your hardware. You might need both in Mexico.’

He carried the case for Dillinger, who carried the machine guns. They went out, got into the Ford, and Dillinger drove round to the rear of the farm and followed the track down through the trees beside the swamp, following the old man’s directions, finally braking to a halt beside an old dilapidated barn in the trees.

They got out and Doc unbarred the double doors, Dillinger helping him and pulled them back. A white Chevrolet convertible stood there. It looked brand new.

‘And where in the hell did you get that?’ Dillinger wanted to know.

‘Kid called in here about six months ago named Leo Fettamen. You heard of him?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Strictly small stuff, but as car crazy as you claim to be, Johnny. Fettaman robbed a bank in Carlsberg. Bought this and an old Ford with the cash. Went into Huntsville in the Ford with a guy who called himself Gruber. They intended to take the bank, come back here and use the Chevvy as their getaway car. The kid had a theory that the more imposing you looked, the less the cops were likely to stop you.’

‘What happened?’

‘Killed in a gun battle with the sheriff and his deputies. Hell, I think half the town put a bullet in them before they were finished. The righteous are terrible in their wrath, Johnny.’

‘So I’ve noticed,’ Dillinger said.

‘Obviously I couldn’t start riding around in it. That would have caused talk. Seeing’s you got eyes for it, Johnny, I’ll make a deal with you. It’s yours for twelve thousand dollars.’

Dillinger smiled and slapped his hand. ‘Doggone, you got it.’

‘One thing you’ll need from that Ford is the battery. The one in the Chevvy couldn’t be flatter.’

Dillinger drove the Ford into the barn beside the Chevrolet, then got a wrench from the tool kit and removed the battery. It was only five minutes’ work to substitute it for the battery in the other car, then he slid behind the wheel, pulled the choke and applied the starter. The Chevrolet’s engine started instantly, purred like music.