Sky and the Hijackers

Fiction by Frank Knebel

Chapter 3

Mary la Rocque finished tying a knot and straightened up. The right side of her mouth curled slightly upward.

     “How’s that feel now, Miss Irons?” she asked.

     When the blindfolded, bound, and gagged blonde defiantly turned her head away from the sound of her tormentor’s voice, Mary gave the ropes connecting her tied wrists to her bent- back ankles a hard tug. Karen groaned into her gag. Jill, hearing her sister, gave a mew of distress and shook her head in Mary’s direction.

     “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself too, Jill,” said Mary, admiring the effect of the recently applied hogtie on the elfin though shapely younger Irons sister. She reached over to Jill and stroked her blond tresses. “Very attractive, to be sure.”

     Karen tried to move, to somehow protect Jill. Mary let go of Jill’s hair and watched Karen struggle in her ropes, the hint of the smile once more playing at the corner of her mouth. Without saying any more, Mary picked her way to the front of the truck along the very narrow and winding path that ran through the middle of the crates, barrels, and bags secured with ropes to stanchions on the sides. She did not attempt to get into the passenger seat, but sat on a box behind the driver, Judy in a blond wig.

     “Have some fun with them?” asked Judy.

     The combination of engine noise and the rush of the air through the open cab windows made it unlikely that the Irons sisters would overhear them.

     “Not as much as they probably deserve.”

     Judy looked back at the attractive, expressionless face.

     “You don’t even know these women. How can it be personal with you?”

     Mary turned to look at the two squirming blondes.

     “It’s always personal,” she said quietly.

“Sheriff’s Car Four calling Copper, Car Four calling Copper. Do you read me, Copper? Come in, please. Over.”

     Deputy Amy Cole released the transmit button on her handset and waited. There was no response. She tried several times to make contact without success.

     “What do you think’s happened?” asked Deputy Sue Kendall.

     They had finally cleared the accident from the road and were now headed southwest on the same route as the Irons sisters’ trucks. Sue was driving and Amy handled the radio.

     “I don’t know,” said Amy thoughtfully. “But that accident we had to take care of, two men from California in two old, rusty cars that just happened to block the road behind Karen’s trucks, could be setting things up for another attempted hijacking.”

     “Yeah. Especially since the State Police unit covering the road from the other direction had to deal with a similar accident. Still, it could be a coincidence. Things like that do happen.”

     Amy frowned.

     “I won’t feel easy until we hear from Copper.”

Copper Ryder raised herself with her elbows and forearms and peered at the roadside garage over the crest of the ridge. A couple hundred yards away and slightly below her, the two trucks waited outside the garage’s roll-up corrugated metal doors. Two dark sedans were parked outside the building, and, not far from them, two men stood facing away from the building watching the road and surrounding landscape. The doors began to rise, the machine gun-like cranking of the mechanism audible to Copper even at this distance.

     The girl had seen the trucks, traveling with the cars and headed in what she knew to be the wrong direction, as she was approaching the main road. She had followed, keeping as much distance from them as she dared until the little caravan had pulled off the highway and headed down a dusty lane toward the one-story rectangular building. A little way beyond the lane, some low ridges ran parallel with the road. Copper had hidden the station wagon between them and scrambled to the top of the rocky hill for a better look.

     When the trucks had disappeared into the garage, the two men quickly took long poles with hooks on the ends and pulled the doors closed again. After a few minutes, the men emerged from the garage and got into one of the cars. The engine started and the car headed back toward the highway.

     Copper tried to remember how many people she had seen. There had been two women disguised as Karen and Jill driving the trucks and at least two men in each car, maybe three in the lead car. The girl had been too far away to see clearly. That made a total of six, possibly seven, and now two of them had gone. Where were the Irons sisters?

     “There’s only one way to find out where Karen and Jill are,” Copper said resolutely. “Even though there aren’t so many of them, I’m going to have to be careful.” She looked around. “And take some precautions.”

Judy opened the driver’s door of the panel truck and stepped down.

     “Boy am I glad to be rid of this!” she said, peeling off the blond wig and unpinning her long, dark hair. “It’s awful hot to be running around in a wig.”

     As Lois took off her wig, Laughton handed her a bundle of clothes. He tossed a smaller bundle to Judy. Merton, the tall, thin blond man, opened the rear doors of the panel truck.

     “I think you two made great blondes,” Laughton said. “A terrific performance.”

     Lois regarded him skeptically, obviously immune to his breezy charm.

     “I’m just glad we didn’t have to fool anyone up close,” she said, running a hand through her shorter hair. “But we get paid the same whether the job was easy or hard.”

     “Of course,” Laughton said, flashing his winning smile. “We’ll take care of it right after you two change your clothes.”

     Merton and Harding took the Irons sisters from the truck and placed them on two of the cots along the wall. As the two helpless, still hogtied women moaned and writhed in their bonds, Harding watched their sensual movements stolidly, but the much-younger Merton wiped the back of his hand across this mouth.

     Judy looked apprehensively at Karen and Jill.

     “What happens to those two?” she asked.

     “You don’t have to worry about them,” said Mary La Roque in a flat voice. “We’re just keeping them from delivering supplies to the Professor and his students. Nothing more than inconvenience for them.”

     Judy looked into the attractive but rather bland face. It was clear that she wanted to believe the words but had doubts. Mary pointed to the small rooms at the side of the building.

     “You can change in there. I’ll pay you before you leave.”

     “Come on, Honey,” said Lois, taking Judy by the arm.

     She led the younger woman into the office and shut the door behind them.

     “Were you telling the truth?” asked Merton. He lowered his voice and glanced nervously at the Irons sisters. “I don’t like killing. Especially women.”

     “Of course it’s the truth,” said Laughton. “In a little while they’ll be picked up and taken to another hideout. They’ve got no idea where the trucks are, so we can wait ‘til tonight to get our own trucks out here and remove goods.”

     “Pretty slick,” Merton said appreciatively. “I guess it would be stupid to try to get the stuff away in these trucks.”

     He stood nodding and grinning at Laughton and Mary. Harding watched them all darkly, saying nothing. The door of the office opened. Judy and Lois emerged in their own clothes again. Mary took two wads of bills from her purse and gave one to each woman.

     “All right, Harding,” she said to the burly man. “Take them back to town.”

     Harding touched his forehead in salute and grunted. He and Merton escorted the two women out the door. A few moments later, a car engine started.

     “Was I telling the truth?” Laughton asked her, cocking an eyebrow. “I know it’s what you told me to say, but is it what’s really going to happen? Merton may be a weasel, but I don’t like killing women either.”

     “It’s the truth as far as I know,” she said, watching the women struggling in their bonds. “Paul’s not a violent man, you know.”

     Laughton followed her gaze to the beautiful, helpless Irons sisters.

     “I hope you’re right. Getting rid of these two would be a real waste.”

     She looked back at Laughton. Now his gaze was riveted on the struggling women. She tilted her head to one side and watched him for a moment.

     “You really like seeing them tied and wiggling like that?”

     When he kept looking and did not reply, she turned her back and placed her hands together behind her, looking at him over her shoulder.

     “We could try some of that if you like it,” she said softly. She sidled over until she nearly touched him. “You can even stuff something in my mouth if you want to.”

     He slipped his arm around her trim waist.

     “Jealous?” he asked. “Just because I said it would be a waste to---“ He looked up sharply. “What was that?”

Copper crept along the side of the building. Beside the roll-down doors on the front there was a door for foot traffic, but the girl preferred to try another small door along the side. She could see that there were painted over windows along the side and hoped that there might be clear spots where she could see inside. There were none. She put her hand on the doorknob but, just as she was about to try it, the girl thought of the possible seventh gang member and remembered a warning from Sky.

     “If someone’s around, they’ll usually leave some kind of sign,” he had said.

     “There aren’t any more cars in front, but how about out back?” Copper said to herself. “I’d hate to get a nasty surprise.”

     She took her hand off the knob and crept to the back corner of the building for a peek. A light blue sedan was hidden there. She stretched out a bit farther to see if there was anyone on guard. No person was visible.

     “I’d better watch myself,” she thought. “I wonder how many there---“

     The internal sentence was interrupted by a loud noise, and suddenly the ground was rising up to meet her. She managed to put her hands out to break her fall, but not even her hands and knees could keep her up for long. She collapsed and lay face down for a moment, then tried to roll over. There was bright blue sky and the sharp line of the top of the garage wall. And briefly there were two people, people without faces because of the cloth masks over their noses and mouths. Then there was darkness.

“Do you always carry that?” Mary asked as Laughton slipped the sap into his coat pocket.

     “Carried one for years and old habits die hard, Sweetie. Know who she is?”

     He reached down and grabbed the unconscious girl under the arms.

     “You’ve got a real prize there. She’s Sky Ryder’s niece.”

     “Well don’t just stand there,” Laughton said as he hoisted Copper up. “Open the door so we can get her out of sight. I’ll bet that you can think of something imaginative to do with her.”

     She smiled the same one-side-of-her-mouth smile again.

     “Oh, yes,” she murmured. “That’ll be easy.”

     A car approached the front of the garage. Laughton dragged Copper through the side door. He had no sooner dumped her onto another cot than someone began pounding on the front pedestrian door.

     “Hey, open up in there! It’s Merton.”

     Laughton opened the door.

     “You’d better keep your eyes open,” Merton gasped. “We found a station wagon hidden out by the road. Somebody may have spotted us.”

     “Somebody did.” He stepped aside so Merton could see Mary standing over Copper. “It’s Ryder’s niece. Somebody may be trailing her, so here’s what you’re gonna do...”

Julie Ryder laid her hand on Sky’s.

     “I’m so sorry, Sky,” she said. “You’ve interrupted this important case to fly to Flagstaff and pick me up, and all I’ve done is talk your ear off about Margie and Dave and their kids. I know you, Commander Ryder. When you’re so quiet there’s a lot going on inside you. And besides---” She looked at the landscape below--- “We’re flying over the ranch as though we have no intention of landing.”

     Sky smiled at his wife.

     “I’m just glad that Margie’s so much better.” His face grew graver. “But there are some important things going on right now. And I promised to do a little scouting before I take you home.”

     He briefly explained the obvious arranged accidents and open intimidation attempts that were sabotaging the Irons sisters’ transport business. Julie understood.

     “So someone’s trying to keep them from fulfilling their contract with the University,” she said. “But why would anyone try to ruin a little business like theirs?”

     Sky shrugged.

     “If we knew that, we’d know who to suspect of being behind it.”

     “And we’re going out to check with Dr. Folger to see if this morning’s shipment arrived?”

     Sky nodded.

     “But Amy and Sue are watching out for them east of the hills and the State Police are on the west. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

Copper Ryder couldn’t be sure whether she was awake or not. The pain in her head seemed to be a sign of consciousness, but every time she tried to open her eyes nothing happened. Her mouth was dry and uncomfortable and the messages about getting up she was sending seemed not to be reaching her arms and legs. And then she knew: she was lying on her left side on some kind of spongy surface, wearing only her bra and panties and she was bound, gagged and blindfolded.

     Being bound and gagged was not exactly new to Copper, and her experience told her that the present job had been done by an expert. Maybe a fanatic. Her wrists were behind her back tied palm to palm. There were three or perhaps four sets of loops encircling her arms and body keeping her arms pressed firmly against her. More ropes attached to these loops led under her arms and around the back of her neck. Her legs had been bound both above and below her knees and her feet were tied side by side at the ankles. Her ankle bonds were connected to the band of cords that passed around her body right over her bound wrists. She was thoroughly and effectively hogtied. Her gag consisted of cloth stuffing held in place by a cloth band between her teeth secured at the back of her head. The blindfold was a similar cloth band knotted just above the gag tie. The surface on which she lay seemed to be a stretchy material with a strange resilience to it. When Copper tried to shift her position there was a loud creaking that the girl could easily recognize as the wooden legs of a cot or camp bed.

     At least the pain in her head was not too great. Whoever had hit her had used something padded. Though she knew there must be a lump, she doubted that the skin had been broken.

     “Some kind of great detective I am!” she thought ruefully. “Coshed from behind, my clothes taken, and tied up and gagged! Things couldn’t get much worse.”

     As she shifted again, trying to find some position where she could work on the wrist bonds, she felt her right nipple rub against the edge of her bra. Her breast was popping out of the cup. She groaned in frustration. To her surprise, she heard gagged mews answer her from very close by.

     “Well, I guess I found Karen and Jill,” she thought glumly. “Now what’s our plan?”

Dr. Folger was a short, reedy, rather vague-looking man with a voice to match.

     “No, Sky. The trucks with our supplies haven’t arrived yet. They were supposed to be here some time ago. Is anything wrong?”

     Sky spoke into his handset again.

     “I don’t know, Dr. Folger. But I’ll see what I can find out. Hummingbird out.”

     “Uh... Oh, yes. Folger... uh... out.”

     Julie Ryder smiled briefly until she saw that Sky was concerned.

     “Do you think that there is something wrong, Sky?”

     “I can’t be sure. See if you can raise Amy and Sue. If not, try Copper at the ranch.”

     Julie reached for the radio microphone.

“Come on, Baby,” said Laughton reaching over with his right hand to trace his index finger over the line of Mary La Rocque’s shoulder. “You’ve gotta admit that I did a great job on this little operation. And I know that you find that ... exciting.”

     “Just keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel,” she said coolly, lifting his hand from her arm. She gave him a sidewise glance. “Don’t forget: we’ll need to make a stop before we go back to my motel.”

     He shook his head and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. She looked. Two neat coils of rope lay the back seat. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

     “You seem think of everything, Mr. Laughton. You know you’re right: I do find an able man exciting.” She pressed her feet and legs together and slipped her hands behind her. “I don’t know what I would do if I ever found myself at your mercy.”

     She began to writhe as though bound, slowly and sensually rotating her shoulders and torso, arching her back and thrusting her breasts toward him. She pressed her lips together and hummed and mewed as though gagged.

     Laughton pressed on the accelerator.

“That’s right, Sky. Sergeant Boyer says that they found your station wagon a few minutes ago. Just off the highway, a few miles east of Oatesville. Over.”

     Sky and Julie exchanged a puzzled look.

     “Oatesville?” Sky repeated. “Are you sure about that Amy? Over.”

     “No mistake, Sky. But there’s no sign of the trucks or of Copper. Over.”

     “And she told you that she was trailing Karen? Over.”

     “Roger that. And she had them in sight for a while. Harry and Andy are checking the main road between here and Oatesville. Do you want us to go help check the side roads? Over.”

     Sky thought for a moment.

     “No, Amy. This might be some kind of trick. I’m going to backtrack the most direct route from the air. Stand by and I’ll let you know what I find. Sky out.”

     “Willco, Sky. Car Four out.”

     Julie laid her hand on Sky’s arm. He patted it appreciatively.

     “Hang on,” he said as he banked the Hummingbird sharply to the right.

An hour of struggling had brought Copper, Karen, and Jill no closer to freedom. Their bonds, gags, and blindfolds had been applied with great expertise and the women were still quite helpless, despite much creaking of the cots and many mews and grunts of effort.

     Copper stopped to rest.

     “I’ve just got to pay more attention the next time Sky or anyone tries to teach me something about escape,” the girl thought ruefully. “Of course there’s not much you can do when you’re tied up while knocked out!”

     She heard a brief frenzy of struggling, then one of the Irons sisters mewed into her gag in frustration. From the high pitch of the sound, Copper guessed that it was Jill.

     “Poor kid,” thought Copper. “She must be plenty scared. They’re probably in their underwear too. I wonder if they’re falling out like I am.”

     Copper’s own struggles had caused both bra straps to slip off her shoulders, allowing the garment to slip down enough to expose her nipples. Both Karen and Jill were well-endowed girls so they must be experiencing the same embarrassment. Copper’s train of thought continued.

     “I’m glad these people are so confident about their tying skills that they didn’t leave a guard with us. He’d probably be getting quite a show by now.” She held her breath for a moment to listen. “At least, I don’t think there’s anyone else here. Maybe if I work at it, I can get this blindfold off and find something I can use to get us untied.”

     She began working to catch the lower edge of the cloth bound over her eyes on the edge of the cot. She managed to catch the cloth band a couple times and pull. On the first tug the blindfold merely slipped off without shifting, but on the second try Copper was able to lift the cloth band slightly.

     “Now I’m getting somewhere!” she thought hopefully. “Another time or two and---“

     The quiet of the garage was broken by the comparative shout of one of the foot traffic doors opening then the explosion of it closing. Then booted feet crossed the bare concrete floor heading in the direction of the bound women. Karen and Jill began a chorus of gagged pleas for help. Copper did nothing, waiting and hoping, but somehow doubting, that rescue was at hand.

     The footfalls continued across the room directly to her. Copper felt hands grab her by the shoulders and roll her roughly onto her belly. The girl felt tugging and pulling on the ropes that bound her hands and feet, then she was rolled onto her side again. Her bonds had been examined and tested but not loosened. The steps continued toward where Copper guessed that the Irons sisters lay. She heard muffled protests from them. The intruder was undoubtedly checking their bonds as well.

     “I’ve got to get some clue as to who’s responsible for this,” Copper thought.

     But as Copper returned to her efforts to loosen the blindfold, the girl had one clue already: fingernails. As the visitor had turned her over, Copper had felt the touch of long female fingernails on her upper arms and shoulders.

     Copper had made two more fruitless attempts to loosen the cloth over her eyes when the engine of one of the trucks roared to life.

     “That’s funny,” Copper thought. “I didn’t hear the truck door being opened.”

     And then it came to her. The truck was not being moved from the garage; it was being used as a weapon against the three helpless women inside. Bound as they were there was no possibility that they could escape in time to keep from being asphyxiated by the exhaust fumes. Karen and Jill must have realized it too. Both women moaned into their gags.

     Their pleas went unanswered. Copper heard the truck door slam and the feet cross the room to the same door by which they had entered. Copper made one more try to free her blindfold. The cloth slipped about halfway off her eyes and the girl raised her chin to try to see who the visitor was. She caught a brief glimpse of a woman’s back as the outside door closed.

     They were alone and helpless. The room was visibly filling with exhaust smoke. Copper coughed and began to struggle desperately against the ropes.

Julie Ryder shook her head.

     “I’m sorry, Sky,” she said. “I just don’t see anything.”

     They had been over the route twice without spotting anything, once flying northeast toward Kermit and once flying back southwest.

     “We’ll try one more time,” said Sky looking at the anxiously at the fuel gauge. “We have enough fuel for it. Try Amy one more time.”

     Neither the Deputies nor the State Police had found any trace of the missing women. Sky set his jaw.

     “I know that Copper wouldn’t be taken without a fight, and she’d have left some sign if she could. We’ve got to find it.”

     For another five minutes they saw nothing. Julie furrowed her brow.

     “What’s that building down there?” she asked pointing at a rectangular, one-story building.

     “That used to be Dub Geary’s garage before he moved to Oatesville,” said Sky. “Not exactly a prime location, is it?”

     Julie kept looking and pointed again.

     “I’d have said it was something to do with airplanes. It looks as if there’s advertising aimed at pilots.”

     Sky looked at the low hill between the garage and the highway. A large arrow pointing at the building had been scratched into the dirt. Beside the arrow was a small but distinct letter C.

     “That’s it!” Sky exclaimed. “Get Amy on the radio. I’m going to see if we can put down in that field over there.”

Copper was growing weak. The truck exhaust was dirty and foul-smelling, but the girl knew that the real danger lay in the invisible carbon monoxide contained in the fumes. She could hear very few sounds coming from Karen and Jill, and she was too tired to keep up the useless struggle any longer.

     “If only there were some way I could leave a clue,” she thought wearily.

     She began to cough. Breathing was becoming difficult. It would not be long.

     Dimly, Copper heard the door being thrown open and a man shout. Running feet crossed the room and the truck engine stopped. She could hear sirens in the distance. The man shouted again. She raised her head weakly and looked out from under the bottom edge of her loose blindfold. A man and a woman were carrying one of the Irons sisters out the door. They reappeared immediately and carried the other girl away. Copper began to cough again. The next thing she knew, she was being lifted and carried out. When they reached the sunlight Copper raised her head and saw Julie Ryder carrying her by her bound feet. Then she was gently placed on the ground. Fingers reached under the blindfold and flipped it off. It was Sky.

     “Are you all right, Honey?” Sky asked anxiously.

     Copper nodded weakly as he began to untie the gag from behind her head. Julie stood behind him, bending over and looking at her. Copper mumbled something into the cloth wad in her mouth. Julie smiled.

     “I think she’s all right, Sky. I’ll help the other girls.”

     Julie knelt beside Jill Irons. The fresh air was beginning to revive the sisters. Copper heard noises. More people were running to them from the front of the building. Copper recognized Amy Cole, Sue Kendall, Harry Tyler and Andy Rivera.

     “My God, Sky!” Amy exclaimed. “Are they alive?”

     Sky nodded.

     “All of them.” He looked down at Copper and smiled.

The door swung open creating a rectangle of brilliant sunshine on one wall of the dark, dingy bar. But even the light of a California noon failed to illuminate the room beyond a small half-circle at the threshold. The man who had opened the door held it for a moment and paused, as though intimidated by the dangers or cavernous dimensions hidden in the blackness inside. Using the sunlight to reveal what lay ahead, he peered in, sizing up everything with a cool, decisive glance. Satisfied with what he had seen, he let the door swing closed behind him and remained there for a moment to let his eyes fully adjust to the dark interior.

     The room was by no means cavernous: though fairly long, it had a low ceiling and was rather narrow. Running along the left-hand wall was a bar. The wood of the bar and that of the matching stools had probably been quite attractive and expensive-looking when new, but that was obviously many years ago. A few of the unoccupied stools had patches or strips of tape on their leatherette seat covers. There were a couple stools that did not match the others, perhaps one reason for the dim lighting.

     The right side of the room was done in dark wood as well. At the back of the long room were a few partitioned booths with rectangular tables perpendicular to the bar. A long bench with a high back ran along the front half of the wall, and a garishly lighted jukebox stood between the bench and the table area. There were several small square tables, each with a mismatched chair or two, in front of the bench so that two people could talk face to face. But none of the chairs were occupied. There were only solitary men sitting on the bench, facing the bar like worshipers in a pew facing the altar. As with the men at the bar they were mostly middle-aged and seedy-looking, probably regulars surprised by the sudden appearance of a new customer. Several of them had turned their pale faces and dull eyes to look at the cause of the disturbance. One at the end of bar had even raised his arm as though shielding his eyes from a nuclear flash behind the visitor.

     “Hey...” he mumbled.

     The man smiled affably.

     “My apologies,” he said.

     The newcomer was a medium sized man of about sixty, trim and dapper in a gray three-piece suit with a light gray homberg hat, a dark gray tie against his clean white shirt, and highly polished shoes. He also wore gray fabric gloves, which he seemed about to remove before thinking better of it. Either oblivious to the fact that nearly every eye in the room was on him or not bothered by it, he walked up to an open spot near the bartender.

     “Nothing for me just yet,” he said, answering the unasked question. “I’m looking for a man.”

     The bartender was fairly young, just over thirty or so, stocky, with a dark mustache and hair thinning to a widow’s peak and a slightly pockmarked face. His eyes swept from the door end of the bar to the other and back to the man. One side of his mouth curled up as he said.

     “Room’s full of ‘em. He gotta name?”

     The visitor smiled again. Though it was a mechanical smile it did not look obviously so.

     “Of course. I didn’t give it to you. Rowlands.”

     The young man tilted his head toward the far end of the bar.

     “Thank you,” said the older man.

     He walked down the bar, nodding politely as he passed a few curious patrons between him and his objective, a man not unlike the bartender in appearance. The gray-suited man stopped.

     The man on the stool was about forty, husky and solidly built, with a dark mustache. His hat was pushed back on his head enough to show that his hair, too, was thinning. A half-glass of beer sat on the bar near his right hand. He was one of the few people in the room who seemingly had no interest in the stranger. Despite the darkness, his eyes were fixed on a paperback book he held on the bar in front of him.

     “Do you mind if I sit here, Mr. Rowlands?” the stranger asked politely.

     Rowlands turned. He looked the man up and down, his expression showing mild surprise but no interest.

     “It’s a free country,” he said, turning back to his book. “Suit yourself.”

     As the man slid onto the stool beside him, Rowlands turned a page. The man leaned over to look at the cover of the book.

     “Mickey Spillane!” he said with a slight shudder. “Much too violent for me.”

     Rowlands glanced up and down at the suit, hat and gloves again.

     “Figures,” he said.

     The man pointed to his beer glass.

     “Care for another?”

     Rowlands looked at him but said nothing. The man turned to the bartender.

     “Another beer for my friend, bartender, and a Manhattan for me.”

     The bartender nodded and went to work. The other customers, now satisfied that the stranger actually intended to drink, returned to their own affairs.

     “I have a job for you, Mr. Rowlands,” the man said.

     “Somehow I guessed you weren’t a scout from ‘New Faces of 1958’,” Rowlands replied laconically.

     “My name is Watling, Paul Watling. You were mentioned by another man whom I’ve hired; a friend of yours, I believe. His name is Bradford.”

     The bartender brought their drinks. The man in gray produced a money clip holding a thick wad of cash, pulled out put a bill and laid it on the bar. He kept the money in Rowlands’ sight as the bartender took the bill and went to the register.

     “What’s the job and what’s it pay?” asked Rowlands.

     “The pay is generous, Mr. Rowlands, and there’ll be a sizable bonus when it’s done.”

     Rowlands sipped his beer as he nodded.

     “Okay. For that kind of money the opposition must be pretty tough. Who are we up against?”

     “A man with whom you’re well acquainted. Mr. Bradford indicated that you’re the ideal man for the job, in fact the only man he’d follow against our opponent.”

     Rowlands put down his glass and looked intently at the man.

     “Who?”

     Watling cleared his throat.

     “A rancher from Arizona named Sky Ryder.”

     Rowlands folded down the corner of page he had been reading, then closed the book and laid it on the bar. Watling sipped his Manhattan, watching Rowlands all the time. Rowlands picked up his beer glass and swirled the contents. He looked at the bubbles and the foam in the glass, but saw only a pair of clear blue eyes in a lovely face framed by long, dark hair. And there was a body too; a very lush and curvaceous one. At first the khaki uniform of a Deputy Sheriff hid the body, but then the uniform disappeared and the vision was revealed in all its naked bounty: shapely legs, womanly hips, trim waist, delicate shoulders and achingly beautiful breasts.

     Rowlands took a long swallow of beer. When he lowered the glass, the vision was gone. He turned to Watling.

     “I’ll hear what you have to say, Mr. Watling.

     Watling looked at the empty booths at the back of the room. He nodded toward the last one.

     “Shall we go over there to discuss it, Mr. Rowlands?”

     Rowlands picked up his beer and his book. As they passed the jukebox, Rowlands paused and looked at the music selections. He drew a coin from his pocket, dropped it in the slot and pressed some buttons. In a moment the Mills Brothers were singing about being undecided. As they continued to the table, Rowlands saw on Watling’s face a brief flash of what looked like annoyance.