Free Cry of the Hunter by Jack Higgins Page A

that’s all. Do you know Cadogan Square?’
    Murphy nodded. ‘Surely, it’s about half a mile from here.’
    For a moment Fallon hesitated and then he made the decision. ‘All right. Get us there as quickly as you can.’
    Murphy nodded and stepped out briskly. He took to the back streets again, pausing at corners and cautiously checking for police before crossing the busier streets. It only took them twenty minutes to reach their destination. There were only three lamps lit and the far corners of the square were obscured by darkness. Fallon led the way across and when they reached the gate in the wall he hesitated for a moment. A sudden gust of wind drove rain in a fury into their faces, and he made his decision and opened the gate and led the way in.
    He stood again on the top step and jerked on the ancient bell-pull. The force of the wind and rain was such that he couldn’t hear the sound of the bell inside the house. They waited for a few moments and then a light came on in the hall. What on earth am I going to say to her? Fallon thought, and then the door opened and Anne Murray stood in a shaft of light peering out. For a brief moment she looked at him and then her gaze flickered to his two companions. He tried to speak and found that the words wouldn’t come, and then she stood back and said, with a slight smile, ‘Come in, Mr. Fallon. I’ve been expecting you.’

CHAPTER FIVE
    I T was chilly in the attic and the rain drummed relentlessly against a large glass skylight set in the sloping roof. In the centre of the room stood two rusty iron beds and piled in the corners were boxes containing the accumulated rubbish of years. Over everything there hung a faint musty smell of damp and decay. Rogan looked around with an expression of distaste. ‘Is this the best she can do?’
    Fallon laughed grimly. ‘If you fancy going for another run round the back streets in the rain, you’re welcome to go – on your own.’
    Murphy came in, blankets piled high in his arms. ‘It’s fine by me, Mr. Fallon,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a roof over my head and the polis are running round in circles in the rain. I know when I’m well off.’
    Rogan snorted his disgust. ‘You would,’ he said. ‘Quite the little yes-man, aren’t you?’
    Murphy flushed and tossed the blankets down on to one of the beds. ‘At least I don’t run off and leave people in the lurch,’ he said. Rogan took a step towards him and the boy pushed half the blankets into his arms. ‘There you are, Mr. Rogan,’ he said calmly. ‘You can make your own bed at least.’
    Rogan turned with a curse and dropped the blankets on to the bed. Fallon laughed and said, ‘I think you’d better keep your lip buttoned, Rogan. You aren’t too popular round here.’ He moved forward until he stood very close to the small man. ‘In fact it wouldn’t take much to make me turn you out, and believe me that wouldn’t be too healthy. The County Inspector only lives a couple of streets away. There must be quite a bit of police activity in this area.’
    A peculiar expression showed in Rogan’s eyes and then disappeared. He forced a laugh. ‘Sure, I didn’t mean anything. Dammit all, man, we’re all living on our nerves at the moment.’
    Fallon walked across to the door. ‘Whatever happens,’ he said, ‘I don’t want you to leave this room unless I tell you to.’
    Murphy nodded obediently, but Rogan laughed, and there was a wealth of meaning in his voice. ‘Where will you be sleeping then? She must have a fine sense of hospitality.’
    For a moment violence sparked within Fallon, but as he took a step forward there was a movement behind him and the girl came into the room carrying a tray. She handed it to Murphy and said, ‘There’s a meal and hot coffee for you two. I don’t want you prowling round the house, so stay in this room. If I have any trouble you can get out.’ Her voice was cold and flat and completely unfriendly. She turned to Fallon.