I swung the boat off course and headed towards him.
It was Tim. His face was running with sweat and the look in his eyes turned me cold.
He tried to speak, but he was so breathless he couldn’t: it. He raised his fists and shook them at the sky.
I hauled him on to the boat, grabbed him by the shoulder.
I knew what he was going to say.
He said it. “They’ve got her!”
Chapter Four
CYCLONE SHOT
1
THERE were a half a dozen Bobby-soxers sitting up on stools at | the drug-store counter when I came in. They didn’t pay any; attention to me. They were too busy telling each other how much they loved Frank Sinatra. I didn’t pay any attention to them. I had too much on my mind.