became uncertain. Sometimes it ran over a gravelly plateau from which departed several apparent alternatives, at other places heath grew over it, scars of pebbles offered themselves. Deeming had known the track better than did Brewer. He’d never hesitated once.
‘We shan’t be in time,’ Setters bit out, goaded at last into breaking his silence. ‘It won’t take Deeming ten minutes. Elton’s a kid, a lightweight.’
‘Don’t shoot the pianist,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah,’ Setters said. ‘Yeah, I know.’
He was holding the back of Gently’s seat, trying to will the Wolseley to go faster.
They came at last to the top of the ridge where they could see the depression and the two hummocks. It looked deserted at first glance, and was quickly hidden as they ducked off the ridge. Then it came into sight again as the track approached the first hummock. There it was spread out in front of them, still, apparently, deserted.
‘Where’s the entrance?’ Gently asked.
‘Over in that far hillocky bit,’ Setters said. ‘It’s been shut up since before the war. Since the archaeologists dug it.’
‘Could anyone live in a place like that?’
‘We’ll soon see,’ Setters snapped. ‘For Chrissake, man,’ he said to Brewer, ‘keep driving — keep driving!’
Brewer turned off the track and bucked crazily towards the hummock. The surface of the depression was ribbed with gullies that sent the Wolseley pitching and porpoising. They’d covered a hundred yards of this and had another hundred to go when a couple of figures broke out of the hummock, seemed to rise out of the ground. One was Elton. He’d got blood on his head. The other was Deeming. He carried a spanner. Elton was screaming, running blindly, he didn’t see the approaching Wolseley.
‘Step on it, step on it!’ Setters shrieked, standing up in the plunging car.
But Deeming had seen them, he’d dropped the spanner, was racing back towards the hummock. Elton saw them too, now, and seemed to be caught in two minds. He paused, wavered, began running towards the hummock with the fir trees.
‘Go after Elton!’ Gently shouted.
Brewer hung on the wheel, threw the Wolseley round. As he straightened it there came a roar from behind them and Deeming reappeared in the saddle of his motorcycle. Rising up on his rests, he floated past them over the broken ground, his machine bounding and jarring under him, himself steady, his knees springing. Elton heard him coming, turned, stood holding his hand out and screaming. Deeming went straight at him. Elton faltered sideways, was hit, went down.
He got up, ran a few paces, screaming piercingly all the while. He was holding his arm where he’d been hit. Deeming had turned and was going after him again.
‘This way!’ Gently roared. ‘Make for us, Elton, make for the car!’
But Elton was confused, he was running chicken-like, this way and that.
Brewer stabbed down the accelerator in a violent attempt to intercept Deeming. The Wolseley rose up like a tank, crashed hard on its axles, bounded forward. Deeming avoided it easily. He rode at Elton standing high. Elton threw out his hands, dodged feebly, was hit on the shoulder, spun several yards.
Once more he got up, his face disfigured with pain and terror. Now it seemed he couldn’t move, he stood swaying, wailing, crying. Deeming turned on him again.
‘Stop the car!’ Gently bawled.
But Setters was out before it stopped, went haring across to the paralysed Elton. He caught him up by the waist, snatched him aside from the oncoming bike. Brewer sent the Wolseley at Deeming. Deeming swerved, bore away. Setters dragged Elton towards the car, Shepherd jumped out, they lugged him in.
‘He’s going to kill me!’ Elton was screaming. ‘He’s going to kill me, going to kill me!’
‘He’ll do some killing!’ Setters panted. ‘We’ll string him up to that bloody fir tree.’
Deeming came round in a long curve, eased to a stop about thirty yards from the Wolseley. Gently opened his door, slid out. He began to walk towards Deeming.
‘That’s far enough, screw,’ Deeming said when Gently was halfway towards him. He gave his throttle a touch, showed his teeth in a grin.
Gently stopped. They looked at each other. Deeming ’s slate eyes were glittering. The grin stayed on his face but the eyes weren’t with it.
‘Like you’re asking for it,’ Deeming said. ‘I might pick you off, screw. You get too far from that car and I could put you with Lister.’
‘You’d better give yourself up,’ Gently said.
Deeming gave an amused laugh. ‘That wit,’ he said. ‘I always went for it big. Like why should I give myself up?’
‘Because you’re finished,’ Gently said. ‘We know the whole story, Deeming. You did for yourself when you came after Elton.’
‘So I should give myself up?’ Deeming said.
‘It’ll save you trouble,’ Gently said. ‘You’re trapped. You can’t get out. We’ve got cars covering all the exits.’
‘Cars,’ Deeming said. ‘You funny screw.’ He laughed again, stroked his throttle. ‘You haven’t cars enough,’ he said, ‘and they’re kind of slow, kind of heavy. You can’t get me with cars, screw. There isn’t enough in all Squaresville. You can’t touch me. I’m a free man. Better face it, screw. I’m free.’
‘You’ll get a fair trial,’ Gently said.
‘Surest thing,’ Deeming said. ‘It’s nice to give a fair trial to a guy you’re going to hang. Like then you can kind of rub it in, you can do the cat-and-mouse action. Squares love it, don’t they, screw? They go for it big, a state kill.’
‘You’re a killer yourself,’ Gently said.
‘Yeah,’ Deeming said. ‘I’m a killer. But I don’t kill in cold blood. I’m not as low as the squares, screw.’
‘You knew the penalty,’ Gently said.
‘I know a lot about squares,’ Deeming said. ‘How come they don’t like me killing, when they pay a murderer themselves?’
Gently shrugged. ‘You’ll have time to argue that out in your cell,’ he said. ‘But you can’t get away, Deeming. We’re going to pick you up somewhere.’
Deeming shook his head. ‘Not you, screw. Not while I’m sitting on this bike. Take a look, screw. I’m a free man. Maybe you’ll never see one again.’
‘You aren’t free,’ Gently said.
Deeming chuckled. ‘I’m free,’ he said. ‘As of now I’ve washed my hands of all squares and the taint of them. I’m on the borders now, screw. I’m reaching out for the big touch. I’m the only free man. You haven’t got a weapon, screw.’
‘I see you as a killer,’ Gently said. ‘A killer who’s scared of the penalty.’
‘Keep watching,’ Deeming said. ‘You’ve something left to learn yet.’
‘You can’t face it,’ Gently said.
‘Like I choose not to,’ Deeming grinned. ‘Free choice — you know? It’s in my power to do either.’
There was a rush of feet behind Gently. Deeming hit his clutch, paddled away. Setters and Brewer, running like maniacs, tried to catch up with him and grab him. Deeming didn’t put on speed. He let the two policemen stick close behind him. He rode a circle round the Wolseley, waited till first Setters, then Brewer, fell away. He continued riding back to Gently.
‘See how it bounces?’ he drawled. ‘Like I’ve got the squares where I want them, tagging along in the rear.’
‘So now what?’ Gently said.
‘Keep watching,’ Deeming drawled. ‘I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch. Just keep your eyes stashed on Dicky.’
He curved off again, rode deliberately close to the advancing Setters, didn’t swerve for an instant when Setters made a hopeful spring at him. Then he rode on to the track and pointed in the direction of the Chase. He
