Читаем A time to kill полностью

Jake laid the .38 beside him on the couch and rubbed his temples. "What's your suggestion?"

"Sit and wait. That's all we can do. You got a rifle?"

"I've got enough guns to invade Cuba."

"Why don't you get it and get dressed. Take a position

in one of those cute little windows upstairs. We'll niae oui-side and wait,"

"Have you got enough men?"

"Yeah, I figure there'll only be one or two of them."

"Who's them?"

"Don't know. Could be the Klan, could be some freelancers. Who knows?"

Both men sat in deep thought and stared at the dark street. They could see the top of Pirtle's head as he slumped in the wicker chair just outside the window.

"Jake, you remember those three civil rights workers killed by the Klan back in '64? Found them buried in a levee down around Philadelphia."

"Sure. I was a kid, but I remember."

"Those boys woulcPve never been found if someone hadn't told where they was. That someone was in the Klan. An informant. Seems like that always happened to the Klan. Somebody on the inside was always squealin'."

"You think it's the Klan?"

"Sure looks like it. If it was just one or two freelancers, then who else would know about it? The bigger the group, the better the chance of someone tippin' us off."

"That makes sense, but for some reason I'm not comforted by it."

"Of course, it could be a joke."

"Nobody's laughing."

"You gonna tell your wife?"

"Yeah. I'd better go do that."

"I would too. But don't be turnin' on lights. You might scare them off."

"But I would like to scare them off."

"And I'd like to catch them. If we don't catch them now, they'll try again, and next time they might forget to call us ahead of time."

Carla dressed hurriedly in the dark. She was terrified. Jake laid Hanna on the couch in the den, where she mumbled something and went back to sleep. Carla held her head and watched Jake load a rifle.

"I'll be upstairs in the guest room. Don't turn on any lights. The cops have the place surrounded, so don't worry."

"Don't worry! Are you crazy?"

"Try to go back to sleep."

"Sleep! Jake, you've lost your mind."

They didn't wait long. From his vantage point somewhere deep in the shrubs in front of the house, Ozzie saw him first: a lone figure walking casually down the street from the direction opposite the square. He had in his hand a small box or case of some sort. When he was two houses away, he left the street and cut through the front lawns of the neighbors. Ozzie pulled his revolver and nightstick and watched the man walk directly toward him. Jake had him in the scope of his deer rifle. Pirtle crawled like a snake across the porch and into the shrubs, ready to strike.

Suddenly, the figure darted across the front lawn next door and to the side of Jake's house. He carefully laid the small suitcase under Jake's bedroom window. As he turned to run, a huge black nightstick crashed across the side of his head, ripping his right ear in two places, each barely hanging to his head. He screamed and fell to the ground.

"I got him!" Ozzie yelled. Pirtle and Nesbit sprinted to the side of the house. Jake calmly walked down the stairs.

"I'll be back in a minute," he told Carla.

Ozzie grabbed the suspect by the neck and sat him next to the house. He was conscious but dazed. The suitcase was inches away.

"What's your name?" Ozzie demanded.

He moaned and clutched his head and said nothing.

"I asked you a question," Ozzie said as he hovered over his suspect. Pirtle and Nesbit stood nearby, guns drawn, too frightened to speak or move. Jake stared at the suitcase.

"I ain't sayin'," came the reply.

Ozzie raised the nightstick high over his head and drove it solidly against the man's right ankle. The crack of the bone was sickening.

He howled and grabbed his leg. Ozzie kicked him in the face. He fell backward and his head smashed into the side of the house. He rolled to his side and groaned in pain.

Jake knelt above the suitcase and put his ear next to it. He jumped and retreated. "It's ticking," he said weakly.

Ozzie bent over the suspect and laid the nightstick softly against his nose. "I've got one more question before I break ever bone in your body. What's in the box?"

No answer.

Ozzie recoiled the nightstick and broke the other ankle. "What's in the box!" he shouted.

"Dynamite!" came the anguished reply.

Pirtle dropped his gun. Nesbit's blood pressure shot through his cap and he leaned on the house. Jake turned white and his knees vibrated. He ran through the front door yelling at Carla. "Get the car keys! Get the car keys!"

"What for?" she asked nervously.

"Just do as I say. Get the car keys and get in the car."

He lifted Hanna and carried her through the kitchen, into the carport, and laid her in the back seat of Carla's Cutlass. He took Carla by the arm and helped her into the car. "Leave, and don't come back for thirty minutes."

"Jake, what's going on?" she demanded.

"I'll tell you later. There's no time now. Just leave. Go drive around for thirty minutes. Stay away from this street."

"But why, Jake? What have you found?"

"Dynamite."