Fast Buck

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 mat er 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 bet er 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.

It seemed to him he sat in the evil-smelling darkness for a long time. Somewhere in the passage he could hear the busy gnawing of rat’s teeth on wood, the occasional drip of water, and the persistent patter of the rain against the walls of the building. But he didn’t pay any at ention to these noises. His ears were straining for the sound of any activity in the vast room above him. At first he heard nothing, then he imagined he heard the sound of breathing until he realised it was the curious echo of the thumping of his own heart as he sat there, his blood hammering through his veins.

The minutes dragged by. What could Baird be doing? he wondered stupidly. Perhaps after all she was talking, telling Baird what he wanted to know, and it would mean…

A long, blood-chilling scream rang suddenly through the building. It came down to Rico like the rush of wind, past him, and on down the passage, making the rats scramble up the walls in a panic of agitation.

Rico put his hands over his ears as the scream was repeated, but he couldn’t block it out. It seemed to run round and round inside his head like the rats running up and down the walls.

The screaming went on for a long time.

‘Please don’t!’ he heard Zoe cry. ‘No… Oh, no! I don’t know anything…’

Then she went back to the high-pitched screams that tore Rico’s nerves to shreds, and final y the screaming gave way to a soft moaning that was as horrible to listen to as the screaming.

The moaning kept on, until Rico thought he’d go crazy. He tried to stand up, but his shaking legs wouldn’t support him. He sat there, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut and his heart pounding. He had sweated right through his clothes, and he felt exhausted, as if he had been running without rest for miles.

He became aware suddenly that the moaning had stopped. For some moments he only heard the rustling of rats and the sound of the rain against the walls. He sat in the darkness, not moving, his nerves screwed up to meet another outburst of screaming.

Then the choked bang of a gun shattered the silence. The violence of the sound threw Rico on his knees. The echo of the shot rolled through the empty building, sending the rats scurrying madly to their holes.

Rico remained on his knees, too sick to move or think. He was still there among the slime and muck on the floor when Baird came down the steps.