I
While Ken rowed across the dark, oily water of the estuary, he tried to think how he was going to get Johnny into Adams’ hands without raising Johnny’s suspicions, but the problem defeated him.
Johnny had a gun. He sat in the stern of the boat, watching the outline of the Willow Point as it slowly faded into the darkness, holding the gun in his hand.
“I should have killed that punk,” he said suddenly. “He’ll come after us. I was a mug not to settle him while I had the chance.” He peered at Ken in the dim light of the moon. “Who the hell are you? How did you appear exactly at the right time?”
“My name’s Holland,” Ken said. “I had been told Tux was a good man if you were in trouble. I wanted somewhere safe to hide. As I came alongside the cruiser I heard two men talking. They were arranging to murder you. I thought you might want help, so I horned in.”
“Well, I’ll be damned! You certainly turned up at the right time, but you don’t know what you’ve let yourself in for. Tux won’t forget you. I’m getting out of town. You’d better come with me.”
“Where are you going?”
“I know a guy who’ll lend me a car. We’ll go to Los Angeles. I have friends there.”
“I wouldn’t get far,” Ken said. “The police are looking for me.”
“I’ll get you out of town,” Johnny said. “You leave it to me. You helped me; I’ll help you. The cops in this town are a dumb lot.” He shoved the gun in his hip pocket. “Here, move over. Let me handle one of the oars.”