The office was empty. He stood looking around, but saw nothing to excite his interest, but he wasn’t satisfied. He went over to the desk, and bending, he sniffed at the blotter on the desk. The smell of musk was stronger there, as if Zoe had touched the blotter.
Something caught his attention and he glanced down. Half hidden under the desk was a small evening bag. He knew it at once. It was the one he had given Zoe a week or so ago. He had a tight feeling in his throat as he bent and picked it up.
III
Rico sat beside Baird and stared through the windshield of the Buick as Baird drove slowly along the waterfront. The headlights of the car picked out the oily puddles, the litter and squashed fruit that covered the narrow causeway, bordered on one side by tall, dark warehouses and on the other by the river.
Rain pattered down on the roof of the car and splashed on the still water of the river. They had been driving fast for the past twenty minutes, and now they had reached the waterfront, Baird had slowed down as if uncertain where he was going.
Zoe lay on the back seat. Her wrists and ankles were tied with cord, and an adhesive bandage covered her mouth. From time to time Rico glanced over his shoulder at her. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t move. Rico was scared Baird had broken her neck as he had broken Jean Brace’s neck. It came as a sick sense of relief when he heard her moan softly through the gag.
The sight of the river made him break out into a cold sweat. The one thing he had sworn to avoid was murder, and now, he felt certain, he was going to be forced to take part in the girl’s death.
‘You won’t do anything to her?’ he said, forcing words through his stiff lips. ‘I — I won’t stand for murder…’
Baird glanced at him, and then shifted his attention back to the narrow causeway.
‘Do you want her to sick the cops on you?’ he asked softly. ‘This is a kidnapping rap: could get you the gas-box.’
Rico gulped. He hadn’t thought of that. The tiny spark of courage that had forced the words out of him abruptly snuffed out. He shut his eyes, while his heart banged against his ribs, and his mouth turned sour and dry.
The car jolted slowly on for some time, but Rico didn’t open his eyes. It wasn’t until he felt the car stop and heard Baird open the door that he looked fearfully through the windshield to see where he was.
Baird had turned off the headlights. Rico couldn’t see much in the feeble lights of the parkers. He seemed to be in a cul-de-sac. He could smell the river, but couldn’t see it. Surrounding him were high walls of rotting timber, black with tar.
‘Come on out,’ Baird said impatiently.
Rico got out of the car. His legs could scarcely support him. The rain felt cold against his feverish face. He looked up. High above him he could make out the outline of the roofs of the buildings against the rain-swollen sky. Two or three derricks hung lifelessly from the upper storeys. The warehouse had an air of neglect and disuse. But it was the silence that unnerved Rico. Only the soft patter of the rain and his own heavy, uneven breathing came to his listening ears. He had a suffocating feeling of being buried alive, and when Baird jerked open the rear door of the car, he started violently.
‘Take this,’ Baird said, turning and pushing a flashlight into Rico’s hand. ‘What’s the matter with you? Can’t you hold it steady?’
He leaned into the car, dragged Zoe out, and hoisted her over his shoulder. She struggled feebly, but he took no notice, handling her with the impersonal indifference of a slaughterman preparing cattle for the hammer.
‘Give it to me,’ he went on to Rico, and snatched the light from him. ‘Come on.’
‘Where’re we going?’ Rico mut ered, staring up at the building.
‘A place I know,’ Baird said. ‘Come on and stop yapping.’
Rico followed him through an archway into a long, dark passage. The uneven floor was strewn with refuse; an evil smell came out of the passage and sickened Rico. As they moved slowly forward, he could hear the rustle of rats ahead of them. Huge spiders scuttled into the shadows as Baird flashed his light up to the ceiling.
At the end of the passage they came to a flight of stone steps that eventually brought them into a vast barn of a room full of packing-cases, barrels, litter and the smell of damp and decay.
Baird lowered Zoe to the floor, and as he straightened up he swung the beam of his flashlight around.
‘Safe enough,’ he said under his breath. ‘No one is likely to hear her.’
Rico didn’t say anything. He leaned against one of the rot ing packing-cases and stared at Baird in horror.
No one is likely to hear her.
His mind shied away from the implication. Pain and violence had always demoralised him.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Baird asked roughly, shining the light ful on Rico’s face. ‘Losing your guts?’
‘What are you going to do with her?’ Rico whispered, holding up his hand to shield his sweating face.
‘What do you think?’ Baird said. ‘She can tell us what we want to know. Someone’s got at her to spy on you, and we want to know who.’
He bent over Zoe, loosened the tape round her mouth and jerked it off.
‘Hel o, Toots,’ he said, kneeling by her, ‘I warned you how it’d be. Now you better start talking.
Who’s behind your racket?’
Zoe stared at him, terror in her eyes.
‘Let me go!’ she gasped. ‘Rico! Make him let me go! You’l be sorry if you don’t! I’l make trouble…’
Baird slapped her face, and her words choked off in a scream.
‘Shut up!’ he said softly. ‘Who’s behind your racket?’
‘No one, and it isn’t a racket,’ Zoe sobbed. ‘Let me go!’
Baird’s hand reached out and his fingers caught hold of Zoe’s chin. He raised her face and flashed the light in her eyes.
‘Bet er start talking, Toots,’ he said. ‘I’m in a rush. You don’t want me to persuade you to talk, do you?’
‘I tell you I don’t know what you mean,’ Zoe gasped, trying to break Baird’s grip.
‘Okay,’ Baird said, letting go of her. ‘If you want it the hard way, you can have it the hard way.’
Rico felt suddenly sick.
‘I feel il ,’ he said. ‘I — I can’t watch, Baird. Let me wait in the car.’
Baird stood up.
‘Go and wait in the car, you gutless monkey, but don’t run away.’
‘I’ll wait,’ Rico said feverishly, and began to back away.
Baird caught hold of his coat front and shook him.
‘Don’t run. If you want your share, you’re damn wel going to earn it!’
He gave Rico a shove that sent him reeling into the shadows.
‘Don’t leave me!’ Zoe screamed, struggling to sit up. ‘Rico! Don’t leave me with him! Rico! Come back!’
Rico blundered down the stairs, sweat pouring down his face. Zoe’s screams suddenly stopped and, shuddering, Rico began to grope his way along the pitch-black passage. The darkness came down on him as if a blanket had been thrown over his head. He could see nothing, and he stopped short, his heart pounding, while he tried to see where he was going.
He remembered the huge spiders, and stinking refuse on the floor and the rats, and he knew he couldn’t go on without a light. He turned and groped his way back until he reached the steps. He sat down, holding his head between his hands.