Free The Flesh of The Orchid by James Hadley Chase Page B

began to walk along the path by the lake. A sudden flurry in a near-by tree brought him to an abrupt stop. His heart began to thud against his ribs. A bird crashed through the branches of the pines, flew away across the lake. Steve drew in a sharp breath. He hadn’t realized how strung up he was.
    Ahead the path curved away from the lake and wound into the wood. It was dark there and he stopped again, hesitating to leave the moonlit path and enter the blackness that yawned before him.
    “Carol!” he called sharply. “It’s Steve. Where are you, Carol?”
    The faint echo of his voice floated across the lake.
    Where are you, Carol?
    It had a spooky sound, like a voice without a body, jeering at him.
    He moved on and darkness closed in on him. He could see nothing now and he turned on his electric torch. The powerful beam lit up the narrow path. Overhead the branches of the pines seemed to be reaching down, threatening him. He kept on, pausing every now and then to listen. He became suddenly aware that he was not alone, that he was being watched, and turning quickly, he flashed the beam of the torch around, lighting up bushes and trees, but he could see no one.
    “Are you there, Carol?” he called. His voice was a little shaky, “It’s Steve. I want you, Carol.”
    Behind him a shadowy figure rose out of the bushes, crept silently upon him.
    In front of him a dead branch snapped loudly. He swung the beam of his torch in that direction, caught his breath sharply. A man stood in the bright light of the torch: a man dressed in black; a heavy .45 revolver in his hand.
    “Reach up, Larson,” Max said softly.
    Two hands patted his pockets from behind. He glanced round, a chill crawling up his spine, saw a second man in black: Frank.
    “The two black crows: the Sullivans!” Steve thought, and his mouth went dry.
    “Who are you?” he demanded, keeping his voice steady with an effort.
    “Button up,” Max said, shoving the barrel of the .45 into Steve’s ribs. “We’ll do the talking. Who’s Carol? And what are you doing out here?”
    “She’s a friend, staying with me,” Steve said shortly. “I was looking for her.”
    Max and Frank exchanged glances.
    “Roy up at the cabin?” Max asked softly.
    Steve hesitated. There was no point in lying. They had only to go up there and see for themselves.
    “Yes,” he said.
    “You watch this guy, Frank,” Max said. “I’ll handle Roy.”
    “And the girl?”
    “If she doesn’t show up, it don’t matter. If she does, we’ll fix her,” Max said. “Better bring him along.”
    He walked away towards the cabin.
    Frank pushed his gun into Steve.
    “Get moving,” he said, “and don’t try any tricks. I know ‘em all. And don’t shout when you get near the cabin. You’ll only be throwing your life away.”
    Steve walked after Max. He was pretty sure that when these two had killed Roy, they’d kill him too. But he wasn’t worrying about himself. He was thinking of Carol. What would happen to her? He was surprised to find that he had a sudden tightness in his throat when he thought of her. Whatever happened, he decided, she mustn’t be allowed to fall into the hands of these two.
    “Can’t you fellows leave us alone?” he said. “We’re not doing you any harm.”
    “Skip it,” Frank said. “You don’t want to make it any harder for yourself. We ain’t worrying about you: it’s Roy we’re after.”
    “But what’s he done to you?” Steve asked. “If it’s money you want, I’ve enough. You don’t have to kill him.”
    “We’ve got our dough,” Frank returned. “Once we take a guy’s dough we give him satisfaction. That’s the way we do our business.”
    There was a note of flat finality in his voice that told Steve it would be useless to plead for his brother. He walked on, a sick feeling in his stomach. It was like living through a realistic nightmare.
    At the head of the road leading to the cabin he saw the big black Packard. It had been