Ride the Nightmare

“This withdrawal, Mr. Martin,” said Finder, “It will leave your account with less than a hundred dollars.”

“I know that.”

Was the man insane?

“Well—” Mr. Finder coughed embarrassedly. “You see, this note—“

“Note?”

“It states that a three thousand dollar loan extended to you last October would be made on the condition that the amount in your savings account serve as collateral.”

Chris looked at him dumbly. He’d forgotten.

“You see,” said Mr. Finder. “You signed it.”

Chris held the paper and stared down at it without being able to read it.

“Naturally, if you withdraw three thousand dollars at this time,” said Mr. Finder, “the conditions of the loan are no longer met.”

Chris had difficulty keeping his voice steady.

“Mr. Finder, I’ve been doing business with this bank for the past seven years. My credit rating is beyond reproach. I need this money now. My mother is in financial trouble and needs it immediately. It will be replaced as soon as possible.”

“Mr. Martin, please understand. It’s not as if—”

“Mr. Finder, I have a good business,” Chris said, agitatedly. “I pay my debts. I’m a member of the Chamber of Commerce. For God’s sake, let’s not haggle! I need the money. I’ve met every obligation to this bank in the past. Now, for pity’s sake!” If I had a gun, he thought suddenly, I’d take the money.

Mr. Finder pursed his lips and looked at Chris dispassionately.

“Well?”

Mr. Finder sighed. “Very well. Mr. Martin,” he said, “I really see no reason why we can’t. It’s somewhat irregular but—”

Less than a minute later, the doors of the Ford slammed behind them and Chris twisted the ignition key. He backed out of place and drove out of the parking lot so fast he almost hit another car. He headed down Wilshire as fast as he could and turned right onto Ocean Avenue. A few minutes later the Ford was speeding along the coast highway toward Malibu.

“Chris,” she said as they went past an orange caution light at Channel Road.

“Yes.”

“Do you really believe what you said before?” Her voice was spent of anger now, almost lifeless.

“Yes,” he said, “I’m convinced they plan to use me as long as they can.”

“Oh…”

Chris looked into the rear view mirror, then pressed down on the accelerator. They should make Latigo Canyon in fifteen minutes, he calculated. Surely, Adam and Steve would wait. He cleared his throat. They’d wait. He was right, he had to be. They were planning to use him. Hurting Connie would end that and they knew it. At least Adam must know it.

“Before you came to the store,” he said, “I phoned your mother.” From the corner of his eye, he saw her looking at him. “I was going to tell you that I’d decided to call the police.”

She didn’t answer.

“I know it seems pointless now,” he said, “but I was going to.” His hands clenched on the rim of the wheel. “And, after we get Connie,” he said, “I’ll call them.”

Still she said nothing. Chris felt himself tightening, wanting her to speak. Then he realized that she could think only of Connie. After Connie was safe, she’d respond. Chris pressed his lips together. After Connie was safe. He fixed that in his mind.

Eighteen and a half minutes later, he was turning the car into the entrance of Latigo Canyon.

Automatically, he reached up and pressed a hand over his inside coat pocket. He could feel the rubber- banded clump of bills. Three thousand dollars. The result of almost four years’ saving. Chris clenched his teeth. If only he’d phoned the police the night before, not only would Connie be safe, but Helen would have this money while he was gone. He felt a sudden stab of contempt for himself. It was true, what she’d said. For his own protection, he’d allowed this situation to occur.

There were no sounds of traffic now, only those of the Ford as he guided it up the tortuously curving road: the laboring mutter of its engine, the squeak of its constantly twisted tires. Behind them, the highway sank into the low-hanging fog. Ahead, the mountains loomed grey and green. Somewhere among them was Connie.

“He didn’t say any more about where he’d meet us?” he asked.

“No,” she said, “He just said bring the money.”

Chris pressed down on the accelerator as they reached a length of straight road. His gaze jumped ahead, looking for a sign of the black sedan. What if they missed each other? He fought off the terror of the thought. Adam wouldn’t miss them. He needed the money too much.

The ocean had disappeared from view now. The car was surrounded by the silent mountains. Los Angeles was a strange city, Chris thought distractedly. Fifteen minutes from the most populated places were spots of absolute wilderness. Spots where a person could disappear within minutes of his home and never be found again.

“Chris.”

He started from his thoughts and glanced at her. “There’s a car following us,” she said. His gaze jerked up to the rear view mirror. “Is it them?”

Chris swallowed. “Yes,” he said.

The sedan was about fifty yards behind them, following unhurriedly. Bracing himself, Chris guided the Ford to the side of the road and braked it. Suddenly, he wished he’d brought Cliff’s gun; and, suddenly, remembered the clipping that had fallen out of Cliffs pocket. Adam and Steve had already killed during their escape. They had nothing to lose by killing again. The avoidance of capture was all that mattered now. He shuddered. Had he made another blind mistake? Was he endangering Helen’s life now?

The sedan moved past them.

“What!” Chris stared at it incredulously. Adam was driving.

“What’s he doing?” Helen asked, her voice shrill.

“I don’t—” Chris broke off and shot his hand out for the ignition key. Twisting it, he started the motor, then, releasing the hand brake, put the transmission into drive and gunned off the shoulder so quickly that the wheels spun once before catching. Gravel rasped beneath the car, spattering off the underframe. Then the car was jolting forward onto the road, starting after the sedan which was just disappearing around a curve.

The Ford wheeled creakingly around the curve, then leveled off. Ahead, the sedan moved on leisurely. Chris blew out breath through gritting teeth. Was Adam playing with them? He shuddered with rage. So help me God, he thought, if you’ve done anything to Connie.

Three minutes later, Adam turned into a side road and stopped. Chris pulled up behind him and braked hard. Switching off the engine, he jerked on the hand brake.

“Stay here,” he said. He got out of the car and started toward the sedan. Adam made no motion to get out. He sat with his back turned to Chris. Chris looked into the car anxiously. As he’d expected, Steve and Connie weren’t in it. He stopped by the front window and looked in at Adam. The revolver was on Adam’s lap, close to his right hand,

“I didn’t think it was a very good idea to stop on the main road,” Adam said, smiling.

“Where is she?”

Adam extended his left hand, palm up.

“Where is she, Adam?”

“The money.”

Reaching into his pocket shakily, Chris jerked out the clump of bills and tossed it on Adam’s lap.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

Adam removed the rubber band from the bills and started counting the money.

“Adam, for God’s sake!”

“She’s well, she’s well,” said Adam, casually, his eyes on the money. “Steve’s taking care of her.”