Backing the old vehicle to the end of the road, Jake again extinguished its lights; then joined Whitey and glowered at the helpless man in the coupe.
Harry Vincent's form was slumped almost to the floor. Jake clambered into the driver's seat and moved the coupe to the right. He jockeyed the car back and forth in short stages until its rear was across the road, turned directly toward the edge of the quarry.
"The wheel's set straight," declared Jake, in a satisfied voice. "It don't hurt if this buggy turns while it's rollin'. It can't miss where it's goin'. That edge runs along straight for a hundred feet."
"Funny they don't have no fence there," observed Whitey.
"This ain't a regular road," explained Jake. "It was used as a work road for a while — that's why it's the way it is."
He glanced at the victim. He saw Harry Vincent's eyes turned upward. Jake laughed ruthlessly. He could see an alarmed expression in those eyes, as they glittered beneath the rays of Whitey's torch. At the same time, he knew that the prisoner had no exact idea of what was to occur. This snooper would be due for a real surprise, thought Jake.
"Ready now?" questioned Whitey.
"No!" exclaimed Jake. "Wait till I get these windows up. Hoist the one on your side.
Then shove this bird over here in the driver's seat. Wait — I'll give you a hand."
Harry Vincent was hoisted to the seat which Jake was vacating. The gangster arranged him directly behind the wheel.