Chapter XXIII
SNAP AIM SCORES
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Before Bob could reach for his own gun, the little man had whipped a snub-nosed automatic from a shoulder holster under his left shoulder and his eyes gleamed in the dim street light.
“How nice of you to tell me you were federals; saved me a lot of trouble. Smart guys, aren’t you? Well, get going toward that car on the other side and don’t make any bad steps.”
A cold rage gripped Bob. They had fallen into a neat trap and probably would soon be as helpless as his uncle, who had been kidnaped earlier in the evening. In the meantime, the smugglers would have ample time to run in a large sum of gems. Since they were willing to take the desperate chance of abducting three federal men, the amount must be tremendous.
Condon Adams started to set down his traveling bag, but a sharp command from the little man stopped him.
“Carry that bag and carry it carefully,” he snapped. “You guys are going for a long boat ride.”
They walked rapidly across the street. In fact, Bob was in a hurry to reach the car. For some reason they had not been searched and if he could get inside the sedan he might be able to slip the revolver out of his shoulder holster. Condon Adams lagged a little; perhaps suspecting what was in Bob’s mind.
The door of the sedan opened as they neared and Bob saw a man slouched at the wheel. There was no one else in the car and Bob stepped into the sedan, his muscles tense and his nerves cold.
“Stop!” the command was quiet but deadly and Bob halted halfway to the seat.
“Back up and back up slow; I’m taking no chances on gunplay.”