The Toff and the Kidnapped Child by John Creasey Page A

unpredictable; this man knew all the tricks, and might have one up his sleeve.
    Max opened the door.
    He turned and waved to Leah, and kissed his fingers at her. Then he stepped outside, pulling the door as he did so, and it was firmly closed when Rollison lunged, caught his right wrist and thrust it upwards, forcing him to turn round. Then Rollison dipped his hand into his pocket and drew out the automatic. Once that was in his own pocket, his tension eased. Max had drawn in one hissing breath, but made no attempt to struggle; there was no doubt that he knew Rollison might break his arm.
    â€œDownstairs,” Rollison ordered. “Don’t try to run away.”
    He thrust the man forward a little, and Max stepped out awkwardly, careful not to jolt his arm. They went down without being seen, but as they reached the hall, a door at the end of the front passage opened, and a woman said: “Oh! You gave me quite a shock.” She could see Rollison’s back, but very little of Max. “Did–did you want someone?”
    Max said: “It’s okay, Mrs Bottley, this is a friend of mine.” He sounded natural enough and the answer satisfied the woman. The front door was open. He went out, Rollison still gripping his arm. Almost certainly he told himself that Rollison would not keep that hold on him when they were in the street, and that would be his chance to get away.
    â€œMax,” Rollison said.
    â€œToff,” said Max.
    â€œDon’t run, and don’t do anything foolish,” urged Rollison. “Apart from the fact that you might break your arm, the police would be very glad to see you. You killed a policeman last night.”
    â€œI wasn’t within fifty miles of Hapley when that copper was run down,” Max said, “and I can prove it.” He paused for a moment, and then went on: “So he died.”
    Rollison didn’t know for sure, but said: “Yes.”
    â€œThat’s too bad.”
    â€œYou’ll soon find out how bad it is.”
    â€œToff,” said Max, “I don’t know what’s on your mind, but let me give you a little information.” He was moving forward quickly, arm still held behind him and thrust upwards, so that although they looked as if they were walking peculiarly only someone very close by could see what was really happening. “It’s about Caroline Kane.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œShe won’t have a chance at all if you take me to the police.”
    â€œPerhaps I think I ought to call your bluff.”
    â€œIt’s not bluff,” Max insisted. “But why don’t you try it? And then why don’t you talk to Mrs Kane afterwards? Tell her you didn’t mean to sign her Carrie’s death warrant – such a nasty death, too – and see how much that helps. There were some things that Ralph Kane helped us with, Toff. He told us how much his wife loved his daughter. What do they call it? Maternal fixation, or something. You ever noticed how often a mother or a father dotes on a child if ma and pa don’t exactly hit it off?”
    Rollison said mildly: “Max, you’re going to take me to Caroline.”
    â€œNot on your life,” retorted Max.
    They reached the corner, and the Rolls-Bentley stood facing them. Rollison went on thrusting the man towards it, and said: “Open the door.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, Max did so, and said: “Well, well , what’s it like to be rich? How do you spend your money, Toff? I’d like to find out the best way, and I’ve a feeling that you know. Do you want me to get into this piece of opulence?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBelieve it or not, this is the first time I have ever sat in a Rolls-Royce or Bentley of any kind,” said Max, as if with reverence. When Rollison released his arm, he eased it and moved his shoulder gingerly, got in, and leaned back; there was a seraphic expression on his face