Pulp Fiction | The Stone-Cold Dead in the Market Affair by John Oram by Unknown Read Free Book Online Page B

glass receiver.
    Morgan signaled to the man in the white coat. The sound of the motor died to its original low humming. The stream of notes stopped.
    Morgan picked the top dozen from the pile and splayed them fanwise. "You see? They are numbered individually — but not consecutively. When they go into circulation there'll be no chance of putting a warning out to block a series. The numbering is quite random."
    "Very clever," Illya said. "It's almost a pity your boss will be picked up before the scheme has time to get under way."
    "If he is," Morgan retorted surprisingly, "it won't matter. He's expendable, like the rest of us. What gave you the idea he was heading the operation?" He motioned toward the door. "You've seen all there is to see. It's time I put you to bed."
    As they passed the man in the white coat he grinned and invited, "Come again."
    "We should live so long," Blodwen said gloomily.
    They went out through the hall and the kitchen into the yard.
    Rafferty asked, "The usual?" and Morgan said, "Where else?" He led the way across the yard to the brick-built barn and opened the door. There was a warm smell of cows and hay. The concrete floor was newly washed.
    A heavy oak door was set into the far wall of the barn. Morgan unlocked it and stood aside. Rafferty said, "In!" It seemed to be his favorite word. He jabbed Illya in the back with the muzzle of the tommy-gun. Illya stumbled over the threshold, almost sending Blodwen sprawling. The door slammed behind them and the key turned in the lock.
    Blodwen looked around her. She said, "Charming, though perhaps a bit austere."
    The chamber in which they were standing measured about ten feet by eight. Walls, ceiling and floor were smooth concrete and the inside surface of the door was a sheet of steel. There were no windows. The only light came from a low-wattage bulb behind a thick glass cover set into the ceiling. There was no furniture of any kind. The air smelled cold and damp.
    Illya ran his hand down the wall. His fingers came away wet. He said, "If they keep us here long they won't need to send in the execution squad. We'll die of pneumonia."
    "You say the nicest things," Blodwen told him. "I like a man who looks on the bright side." She rubbed the poodle's head. "I wish I had some food for this animal. The poor little soul must be starving."
    Illya looked at his wristwatch. "It's half after one. I don't think they intend to bring us lunch, somehow."
    "Ah, well. We mustn't expect too much. After all, like the man said, we're expendable."
    He glanced at her, puzzled. "You seem to be taking things remarkably lightly."
    She shrugged. "Not much point in doing anything else, is there? The next move is up to them." She took off her jacket, folded it as a cushion and settled herself as comfortably as could be expected in a corner of the cell. She said, " I wish that little horror in the blue jeans hadn't taken my handbag. I'm dying for a cigarette. You wouldn't have one, I suppose?"
    "I'm afraid not."
    "Never mind. It's a killing habit." She clasped the poodle tight and closed her eyes. Illya, looking down on her, thought she looked unbelievably young.
    She slept for three hours. Then Illya shook her gently. She sat up, instantly alert. "What is it?"
    "Somebody's coming."
    She listened, heard the faint sounds of approaching footsteps. "Good!" she said. "It's time Dolly did her parlor trick. Let's hope it comes off."
    She unbuckled the poodle's jeweled collar and tugged at it. The buckle came away from the strap, exposing a length of fine steel wire. She shook out her jacket and spread it over her knees, putting her hands holding the wire beneath it. As the key turned in the lock she slumped over, suddenly the picture of dejection.
    The door opened and the teenager came in. He carried a tray with two tin mugs of tea and a plate of sandwiches. "You better make the most of it," he said. "It's all you'll get tonight." He looked at the girl huddled in the corner. "What's wrong