Free 1950 - Mallory by James Hadley Chase Page A

reached to his shoulder. She looked up at him, serious, quiet and without fear.
    ‘Why didn’t Ranleigh come?’ he asked. ‘Or Jan?’
    She made an impatient movement as if such a question was immaterial; a waste of time.
    ‘Ranleigh doesn’t know about Crew. Jan is too quick-tempered. Besides, I do my own jobs.’
    ‘So Ranleigh doesn’t know? Murder would shock him, is that it?’
    ‘Perhaps. It doesn’t matter.’ She moved past him to the door. ‘I think that’s all. We shall be keeping in touch with you. You have three weeks. Don’t underestimate Mallory. He is very dangerous.’
    ‘Let me go first,’ he said, ‘And I’ll turn on the light.’ He was holding himself in like a tightly clenched fist.
    He went down the stairs, turned on the hall light and opened the front door. The mews was dark, and a cold wind blew against his face. The light from the hall lit up the damp cobblestones; his shadow looked immense against the doors of the opposite garage.
    She stood by his side, looking out into the darkness.
    ‘We’ll keep our side of the bargain,’ she said. ‘Find Mallory and we’ll pay you the rest of the money.’
    ‘Don’t think you’ll get it all your own way,’ he said, no longer able to conceal his anger. ‘I’m a damned unhealthy subject to blackmail, and you’ll find that out before long.’
    His words had an instantaneous effect on her; like a spark in a powder barrel. He had felt all along that her quiet and calm had been a mask, hiding her real feelings, but he hadn’t suspected the savage ferocity his words now released in her.
    She sprang away from him, faced him, the hall light falling directly on her. She seemed to grow in stature, the muscles in her face became rigid, giving her a bony, scrapped look, her eyes shone like those of an enraged cat, even her hair seemed to stiffen, and she held her hands before her, the fingers hooked into claws and shook them at him.
    ‘And you’ll find I am a bad subject to cheat!’ she cried in a hoarse, croaking voice. ‘I want Mallory. I’m going to have him. And you are going to find him for me! You! Yes, you - you cheap crook! You - you petty-minded hero!’ She spat the words at him. ‘I knew all along what your game was. But there are no means too dirty to use so long as I find Mallory; that’s why I’m using you! And find him!’ Her voice rose. She screamed at him, ‘Do you hear? Find him! I’ll have no mercy on you if you don’t. I’ll see you hang!’ She backed away, her face working, her eyes twin conflagrations.
    Corridon stared at her, feeling a chill run through him. She looked mad, dangerous, somehow not of this earth.
    ‘Find Mallory!’ she screamed again, and then she was gone; her black clothes making her instantly invisible as she stepped back into the darkness.
     
    IV
     
    A s Corridon fastened the belt of his coat, he hummed softly under his breath, his eyes cold and his face set. First, he must make sure that Crew was dead. If Crew had been murdered there was no doubt that this girl would carry out her threat; unless, of course, he succeeded in finding Mallory. From the first he had suspected she was dangerous; now he began to think she wasn’t in her right mind. He remembered that Crew had called her inhuman. He had said she was cracked, and seeing her when she had screamed at him, Corridon wondered now if Crew hadn’t been right.
    He picked up his hat and made for the door leaving the light burning. If they were watching the flat it was as well for them to think he was still there. Going downstairs, he opened the front door and looked into the darkness. He saw nothing, and knew no one could see him. Heavy black clouds now blotted out the moon. There was a hint of rain in the wind and it had turned colder. He closed the front door silently behind him and moved towards the funnel-shaped exit that led into Grosvenor Square.
    He reached Crew’s flat within a half an hour, satisfied that no one had followed