Free Held At Bay by John Creasey Page A

about it?”
    â€œWere you in this?” flashed the Baron.
    â€œSupposin’ I was?”
    Before Britten was prepared, the Baron’s left fist caught him on the side of the jaw, sending him staggering. The Baron brought the butt of his pistol behind Britten’s ear, and the boxer grunted, his eyes rolling. Mannering steadied him to the floor, and swung round on Salmonson.
    He had never seen fear so naked in a man’s eyes. Salmonson was staring at him, his eyes like saucers, his lips open and his wide-spaced teeth showing. His face was yellow-tinged, his knees were shaking as much as his hands.
    The Baron stood over him, menacing, dangerous.
    â€œYou’ll be lucky if I let you out alive,” he snarled. “I’ve got that list and I’ve got the sparklers. I know what to do wiv’ ’em, and they aren’t safe with you. Try that game again and I’ll get you. Understand?”
    Salmonson cowered backwards.
    â€œYe–es, yes, I—”
    â€œWell, just take care you don’t forget.” Mannering stretched his left hand out, catching Salmonson’s shoulder. He spun the man round, dropped his gas-pistol into his pocket, and chopped a rabbit-punch to Salmonson’s neck. Salmonson hardly grunted, and he was unconscious when Mannering laid him on the floor.
    Mannering was anxious now. The policeman would be due back in less than five minutes and he might be early. Salmonson and Britten were safe enough for the time being, and Mannering turned back to the street door.
    It was very dark in the street, only a few lamps breaking the gloom, but there was no sound of approaching footsteps. Mannering stepped boldly to the pavement, pulled the door to behind him and locked it with the key Salmonson had left behind. He slipped the key into his pocket and turned left, away from Liber Street. He had lost all his tools, but there was plenty in his pockets to buy a new set. His rubber-tipped gloves would prevent fingerprints being useful to the police.
    He walked quickly as far as Trafalgar Square, passing a hundred people on the way, every one of whom knew of the Baron yet did not dream they had seen him. He hired a cab at Waterloo knowing it was safe enough, and felt the heap of jewels in his pocket with intense satisfaction. At the terminus he booked for Barnes Common, and was lucky to find a train due to start. When he sank in the corner of a first-class carriage he felt that he could relax.
    The second de Castilla jewel was his: now for the third.
    At Clapham Junction, Mannering dropped the key out of the window. Then he settled down to working out a plan of campaign, for he saw that he had plenty to do. Salmonson’s blackmail racket had proved a complication that he had hardly wanted, for there was more than enough to do with the five Castilla jewels.
    But he had settled his plan when he reached Barnes Common Station, still in the disguise that had served him so well at Hatton Garden, still stooping a little. He was not a frequent traveller on the line, although he knew the way to the house of Mr. James L. Miller.
    This was a large, terraced house in a road that backed on to the common, and the upper flat was let to a newly-married couple. Mannering, as Mr. James L. Miller, used only the bottom flat. He let himself in with his key, and called for his housekeeper.
    The woman had no reason to be in, and she didn’t answer.
    Mannering went into a small room on the right of the hall, feeling free and reassured now after the earlier evening’s tension. On a desk were several letters addressed to Mr. Miller, some circulars, and the packet he had sent on after visiting Kelworthy.
    He smiled to himself as he washed and then carefully resumed the disguise, altering the lines at his mouth and filling his cheeks with the pads and covering his teeth with the rubber film. Even Lorna would have found it hard to recognise him.
    18 Lanchester Street had been a haven for the