The Toff In New York

The Toff In New York Read Free

Book: The Toff In New York Read Free
Author: John Creasey
Tags: Crime
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was listening from a spot between two mammoth cars, smiled so broadly that it looked as if he would like to laugh aloud. He waited until they were half-way towards the airport buildings, and then followed again. He watched them go in. He did not catch up with them but, five minutes later, he was within earshot when Brian Conway came out of a telephone booth and looked thoughtfully at Valerie. Mike Halloran, who proved to be rather a short man and not particularly broad, stood by the girl. His wide-brimmed hat denied most passers-by a view of the uniqueness of his face.
    â€œI talked to the floor clerk this time,” Brian Conway said, “and she tells me that your brother left the hotel at half-past eight. That should have given him plenty of time - more than plenty.”
    Now Valerie Hall looked really alarmed.
    â€œSay, Miss Hall,” said Halloran, as if seized by a great idea, “I sure hope that brother of yours hasn’t run into any trouble.”
    Â 

2
COINCIDENCE
    Â 
    To Valerie Hall the journey from Idlewild Airport to the heart of Manhattan began at a furious speed, threatened to become a nightmare and at last, in spite of her anxiety for her brother, took her on the brink of wonderland again. The first mile or so seemed to be along wide, winding roads which led to nowhere at all, but in the distance there were the headlights of many cars, and soon they joined a mass of vehicles, all heading the same way, and all going at a speed which seemed suicidal. It was as if every driver put his foot down and then locked the controls, so that the car could not swerve either right or left. Every now and again all the cars nearby seemed to slow down at the same moment; then all began to surge forward at precisely the same time.
    Next they drove along a wide road, with service roads on either side, and shops which were so brightly lit that it might have been daylight itself. Many shops were open, which surprised Valerie. The streets were thick with people, too.
    They came to the long, dark approaches to a bridge.
    â€œHere’s Queensborough Bridge,” Conway told Valerie Hall, and they swept up a wide roadway towards the main span of the bridge, and suddenly came upon the wonderland. Great buildings, rising to vast heights, all shimmered with countless lights; not one but a hundred of these were lit up, as if by magic. The wheels hummed noisily over the bridge, and then gradually the fairyland faded. They came to one sharp corner, then a second - and were soon in a flow of traffic heading west.
    â€œNow we’re really here,” Conway said, with satisfaction. “This is 52nd Street. We’ll be at the Arden-Astoria any moment now, and there might be a message for you.” . . .
    â€œThank you,” said Valerie.
    The fascination was beginning to fade, and anxiety took its place. Brian Conway seemed to understand all this, and his hand closed over hers. They were sitting in the front of the car, with Halloran at the wheel, and Valerie in the middle. Halloran was a single-purpose driver, and except to curse mildly at one or two other motorists, hadn’t opened his mouth all the way. Now, in the brightness of the New York street, he proved to know his way around almost as well as a taxi-driver, and soon he delivered them to Park Avenue and slid to a standstill outside the unimpressive entrance of the Arden-Astoria.
    â€œYou take good care of Miss Hall,” he said. “I’ll park the car and be right back.” If he had lived with grizzlies during each of the past five years he could not have had a gruffer voice.
    â€œRight,” said Conway. “Do that.”
    He handed Valerie out.
    As they stepped into the hotel, a red-and-yellow taxi drew up behind, taking the place of Mike Halloran’s sky-blue Ford, which slid silently away. Out of the taxi there stepped the tall, dark man who had been so interested in the girl while at the airport, and who had flown in

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