5 Detective Novels Magazine Cover — page 71: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HEADS—IT’S MURDER The man jumped. The pilot hadn’t heard. Deafened by the roar of the motor, he had been watching the pitch- ing waves. Prentiss raced toward him, knowing he had no more than a few seconds. There was a fire ax in the case on the pilot-house wall. He pulled it out. The sharp blade went through the howser where it crossed the speedboat’s deck. The motor was still racing, pulling against the thick rope, and the boat sprang forward with a sudden jerk that almost knocked Prentiss off the deck. Startled, the pilot twisted around, realizing for the first time that some- thing was wrong. Prentiss swung down lithely to his side, jammed the gun into his ribs. “Okay, pal. Back to Long Beach—and make it fast!” Chapter IV EHIND them, men were scurrying across the submarine’s deck. A rifle spat, the bullet pinging through the canvas top. Then there was the rattle of a machine gun, and bullets began spraying all about them. Prentiss wasted no time. He raised his gun and slammed it hard against the side of the pilot’s head. The man went down without a sound. 3 Prentiss grabbed the wheel and twisted it, at the same time opening the motor wide. The boat dipped down into a trough between two waves, came up while the gun hammered incessantly be- hind him. Then they went down into an- other trough, and the settling fog hid them from the sub’s vision. Prentiss glanced at the compass. He had no idea what course they had fol- lowed coming out but he knew that somewhere, directly east, was the Amer- ican continent. Any part of it would do. At the moment he wasn’t particular. He had little fear of the sub now. They wouldn’t dare use their search- lights for fear of bringing the Coast Guard nor would they dare use anything heavier than a machine gun. He knew his boat was probably leaking from some of the bullet holes, but aside from speed. these water-taxis were built to take a tremendous pounding. 71 The violence of the sea seemed to be increasing. Gigantic walls of green water, twenty feet high, rolled up and swept down upon him, threatening to en- gulf the entire boat in their swirling depths. He managed to keep the bow up into the sea and gripped the wheel until his arms ached, until they felt as if they were being pulled loose from their shoul- der sockets. The pilot stirred as the water came over the rail and crashed down upon him with stinging force. and rolled over, shakily got to his knees, and looked around. Prentiss reached down, grabbed hold of the man’s collar, and jerked him erect. The man stood swaying, still half groggy, shaking his head to clear it. “You’d better snap out of it and snap out of it quick,’ Prentiss said. “If we don’t get to shore in a hurry, we’re never going to.” Water was beginning to slosh around his feet. He knew they had shipped part of it over the side but not all. Most of it came in through the bullet hole in the hull. The pilot swore hoarsely, glanced at the illuminated compass. “You been holdin’ that course ever since you left the sub?” “Yes,” Prentiss said. The pilot spat thoughtfully. “Better let me take the wheel. The way you’re headed, you'll wind up a hell of a long way from Long Beach.” He took the wheel when Al] Prentiss stepped aside and spun it partly over. The boat chugged on through the night. Prentiss looked for something with which to bail. He finally broke open one of the cardboard cartons, dumpéd overboard the cans of food and used the box without much effect until it was a soggy mass. He threw it away and tried another. The boat went on, pitching, its timbers groaning beneath the fury of each wave. A lighthouse came up out of the fog, an automatic light that threw its beam in a swinging circle. When it disappeared into the blackness, Prentiss guessed that they were inside the breakwater. The pilot kept driving the boat forward. There was still no running light. Prentiss stopped bailing and went for- ward to stand at his side. He groaned . MICLOO (CO) @) S (C@)