They all disappeared into the house, and I heard the door slam to. I stood there waiting. After a few minutes the thickset guy came out, got into the car, and drove away as silently as he had come. Well, anyway, I told myself, that only left three.
I walked softly to the house and glanced up. A light was now shining from a window on the second floor. Even as I saw it a blind was hastily drawn down, blotting the light out.
I knew which room they had put her in, which was something. I suddenly wished I’d got a gun. The almost eerie feeling from the wharf and the nearness of the river were giving me the heebies. I put out my hand and gently tried the front door. It was locked all right.
I decided to go round the back and see what that looked like. There was a narrow passage running by the side of the house and I went down there cautiously. I had brought a pencil torch with me, and I switched it on as soon as I was hidden from the street. The bright little spot-light lit up the evil-smelling passage. At the end was a rotten wooden fence. I stretched up and looked over. It gave me quite a shock. The back of the house looked on to the river.
It didn’t take long for a guy with my brains to figure that one out. If they wanted to get rid of Mardi, all they had to do was to slit her throat and toss her out of the window.
What I had to do was to get into that house quick. If it did mean a little trouble and maybe a little damage, right at this moment Mardi was in a worse fix than anything that could happen to me.
I found a window on the ground floor, and by shining my torch through the glass I could just make out a small, unfurnished room. This would do to get into the house. With the aid of my knife, I jacked up the window. It was stiff, but it went up without any noise. I swung my leg over the sill and stepped into the room. Then I shut the window. You try busting into a dark house with three toughs upstairs, in a vicinity like this, and see how you like it. I didn’t. My nerves were jumpy, and my throat was dry as hell.
I gumshoed over to the door and turned the handle. The door came to me as I pulled on it gently. It creaked a little, but not badly. Outside was dark, and I stood listening. I couldn’t hear a thing. Cautiously I edged out into a passage, flicked on my torch to get my bearings, and shut the door behind me. On my right was a narrow staircase.
I started up, testing each step before putting my whole weight on it. It was as well I did. Some of those stairs were mighty rotten and they creaked like hell.
I was half-way up when I heard a door open on the next landing, and a sudden flood of light lit up the staircase. Someone came out and shut the door. Once more the staircase went black. Footsteps began to shuffle to the head of the stairs. I stood against the wall. If this guy put on a light, I was sunk. Down he came. I could hear his hand sliding on the banister rail. I squeezed myself farther into the wall. He went past me. I felt the tail of his coat brush past my knees. I let him get one stair down, then I swivelled round quick and kicked out hard with my right foot.
It was a nice kick. At that range it would have staggered an elephant. I felt my toecap sink into something hard, heard a strangled gasp and then a fearful crash. I didn’t wait a second, but flashing on my torch I tore up the stairs, three at a time.
As soon as I reached the next landing I turned off the lamp and stood against the wall. Before I did so I caught a glimpse of a door near the head of the staircase. Just as I got away from it, the door jerked open. A thin guy with a black hat crushed on his head stepped on to the landing.
“Hey, Joe,” he called, peering down over the banisters. “What the hell you playin’ at?”
When a guy leans over a rail like that, there is only one thing to do. I did it. Moving fast, I hooked my fingers under his trouser legs and heaved. Although he was thin he was heavy, but I’d put enough steam into my heave to launch him okay. Away he went with a startled howl.
After that I didn’t get anywhere. A hoarse voice said behind me, “Hold the pose… exactly like that.”
I had visions of a gun covering my back, but for all that I turned my head. The gun was there all right. The guy who was holding it looked mean. He was short and fat with close-cropped white hair. By the way he held the gun, I could see he knew how to use it.
“Okay,” I said quickly, “I’ll be good.”
“Come away from there, lug,” he said. He’d got a very hoarse voice, as if his larynx had gone back on him. “Keep your hands up an’ don’t start any funny business.”
While this was going on a lot of noise was coming from downstairs. I’ve heard bad words in my time, but what came floating up from the darkness was enough to set the river on fire.
The fat guy said, “Stand with your mug against the wall. I’ll drill you if you make a wrong move. Don’t let me tell you twice.”
I did as I was told. It struck me that maybe I was in for a bad time. My only hope was that I’d put those other two out of action.
“You hurt, Gus?” the fat guy croaked, not taking his eyes off me. “Come on up… I’ve got the punk here.”
The only reply to this was another flow of blasphemy. That guy down there certainly knew all the bad words. The fat guy was in a spot. He didn’t like to detach himself from me, but at the same time I guess he was itching to get down there and find out if the other two were badly hurt. There was only one obvious thing for him to do, and it didn’t take him long to work it out for himself.
Although I was expecting it, I didn’t expect a guy of his size to move so quickly. I managed to get my head rolling, but I didn’t get started fast enough. The butt of his gun bounced on my head, and I slipped off the rim of the world.
CHAPTER TEN
FAINTLY, IN SOME bottomless pit, I could hear a woman screaming. I didn’t care much, until the screams got louder, then I wished she would stop.
I opened my eyes and looked round. The flickering light of a candle that seemed to be floating above my head worried me, and I shut my eyes again. The woman who had been screaming had stopped. I thought that was a good thing. I tried to move my hands, but I found I was unable to do so. I began to take an interest in myself.
I opened my eyes again. Then I remembered. It was like having a pail of water tossed in my face. I tried to sit up, but they’d tied me. My head ached, but every second it was getting clearer. I always did say my skull was tough.
I was lying on the floor with my hands knotted behind my back with some thin twine that cut into my wrists. It hurt like hell.
Above me a solitary candle burnt. It was stuck on the mantelshelf, and its light sent dancing shadows round the room.
Cautiously I pulled myself up into a sitting position. The blood drummed in my head and I had to shut my eyes and take it easy for a bit. Then I got on to my knees and climbed to my feet. They hadn’t tied my legs. I took a few steps up and down the room, to get my circulation working. In a minute or two, but for a headache, I was feeling fine.
Just then the door opened and the tall, thin guy walked in. He came in with a little limp, and he stood just inside the door and looked at me.
“H’yah, Gus,” I said, “I thought you’d broken your neck.”
In the flickering light Gus would scare most people. He’d got a completely flat face with small eyes and a little screwed-up mouth. The bones of his face seemed to be doing their best to burst through his lead-coloured skin. The bridge of his nose had been surgically removed.