Come Easy, Go Easy by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

a hawk hovering, sharp etched against the sky that seemed bleached white with the heat.
    "Have you a job waiting for you?" he asked. "What I'm driving at is this: if you're looking for a job, I could give you one."
    "You could? What kind of a job?"
    "I need a guy who can handle metal and cars. These past two years have been tough going for Lola—that's my wife—and for me. I keep promising myself I'd get help. You seem the kind of young fellow I could get along with. Mind you, the place is pretty lonely and you'd have to do your turn at night shift. The nearest town is Wentworth—twenty miles of desert road, but you'd find the food okay. Lola certainly knows how to cook. She's Italian. You like Italian food?"
    "I guess so."
    "You wait until you try her spaghetti: never tasted anything so good. You'd have a cabin to yourself. There's a radio. I have a spare TV set: you could have that too." He looked hopefully at me. "I'd pay forty bucks and all found. There's nothing to spend your money on. You could get together some capital."
    I didn't hesitate for more than a second or so. This was my chance to get lost. Anyway, I could work for him for a few months, get together some money and then move on.
    "Sounds fine," I said. "Okay, I'd like to give it a trial."

    He grinned at me.
    "Then you've got yourself a job, son," he said and reaching out his enormous hand, he patted me on the knee.

CHAPTER FOUR
    I
    The first sight I had of Point of No Return was when the truck had panted up a sharp hill and then began to coast down into the valley that was as flat as a plate with ribbed white sand, blinding in the sunshine and dotted with burnt up scrub.
    "That's it," Jenson said, pointing, "that's my place."
    There was a small bungalow, a couple of low sheds, a bigger and higher shed, three gas pumps, and on the other side of the highway, a cabin. All the buildings were painted sky blue, and they stood out against the whiteness of the sand with startling intensity
    "That cabin on the far side is for you," Jenson said. "That was where I was born. My old man built it with his own hands. I built the bungalow when he passed on. It takes guts to live out hire. It's lonely and tough going. I'm lucky to have found a woman who'll share it with me. Without her, I'd be sunk. We're on call every night of the week. You'd be surprised the number of times we have to turn out in the middle of the night. Truckers drive over the mountain at night—it's cooler, and they always stop here for gas. That's why I reckon you'll be a big help to me. With three of us taking turns, the night shift won't be so bad."
    We were down in the valley by now. The heat came at us with an edge to it that brought me out in a sticky sweat.
    "You feel it?" He seemed proud of the heat "But at night it's okay. At night, it can be really cool."
    He put his great hand on the horn button and gave two long blasts. He looked at me, grinning.
    "That's to let Lola know I'm coming. She'll be surprised when she sees you. She's always telling me we don't need a hired hand. The fact is, Jack, it's because I've listened to her for so long I've never had a fella to help out. You know these Italians—goddamn thrifty. That's the way they're made. Me—I guess I'm pretty careful with my money too, but my wife—land's sake— she's more than careful. 'What do we want a man here for?' she says. 'If I don't mind getting up at night, why should you?' That's the way she talks." He shook his head. "At my age, it's not right. For more years than I care to remember, I've slaved seventeen hours a day. Okay, I've made money, but I've never had any fun out of it. What do you make money for, Jack? You tell me. What do you make it for?"
    "Why, I guess, first for security, then when you have that, you go after some fun," I said, humouring him.
    "That's right!" He punched me on the knee. "Security first. Well, I've got that taken care of.

    Now at fifty-five, I'm going to have some fun. With you here, Lola