The plane taxied up to a point almost directly opposite the place where Mason was seated in the parked automobile. A gate opened. A long gray-colored automobile with a red spotlight slid through the gates.
“An ambulance,” Della Street said.
Mason, without taking his eyes from the ambulance, motioned her to silence.
The ambulance turned, backed up to the plane. The driver jumped out and opened the doors in the back. The body of the ambulance concealed what was taking place, and Mason frowned his annoyance.
“Get ready to go,” he said to the driver, “and you’re going to have to go fast. Never mind the speed laws. I’ll stand good for fines.”
The driver said dubiously, “You want that ambulance followed?”
“Yes.”
“He’ll use a siren and spotlight and go right through all the signals.”
“Follow right along behind,” Mason said.
“I’ll get pinched.”