Fast Buck

‘But if Hater resists? He’l upset the boat.’

Baird looked at him steadily, his pale eyes gleaming.

‘He won’t be given the chance to resist. I’l handle him.’

Noddy said, ‘He won’t be hard to handle. He ain’t got the strength of a mouse. When I’ve got him where do I find you?’

‘About seventy yards from where you’re working there’s a big oak. I’ll be up in that where I can get a clear view of the guards,’ Baird said. ‘As soon as the smoke gets going I’l come down. Meet me there.

We’l take Hater along the path, then through the thickets to here. I’l pay you off. Rico and me wil take over Hater, and you’l get back the way you came. If you’re spotted, you were going after one of the convicts, but he got away. Stall them so we can get clear. Okay?’

‘Sure,’ Noddy said, and rubbed his sweating hands on his knees. ‘I guess that takes care of it. At twelve tomorrow?’

‘Yeah,’ Baird said. ‘Hater will be where you can get to him?’

‘He’s working on my shift. I won’t make a move until the smoke starts. Then I’l grab him as if I thought he was trying to escape. As soon as the smoke gets thick I’l rush him to you. You’l have to handle him after that.’

‘If he gets tough, clip him and carry him. Think you can do it?’

Noddy grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth.

‘For five grand I could push over the Woolworth building,’ he said. ‘I’l get him to you if I have to take him on my back.’

‘Right,’ Baird said. ‘I guess I owe you some dough.’

Noddy’s eyes glistened.

‘That was the arrangement.’

‘Give him twenty-five Cs,’ Baird said to Rico. ‘You’l get the rest tomorrow.’

Reluctantly, Rico went to his suitcase, opened it and counted out the money. He handed it to Noddy, who checked it, his breath whistling through his nostrils with suppressed excitement.

‘Gee! I’ve never seen so much dough al in one heap,’ he said, stuffing the money in his hip pocket.

He patted the bulge, grinning. ‘There lies half a turkey farm.’

Baird lit a cigarette. He held the flame of the match so it lit up his face. His eyes were like stones, and his expression menacing.

‘Maybe I’d bet er warn you not to try any tricks with me,’ he said softly. ‘Make sure you pul this job off or you won’t be interested in even half a turkey farm.’

Noddy flinched from the implied threat, but he managed an uneasy laugh.

‘Sure, sure,’ he said. ‘You can rely on me. You’l have Hater by tomorrow morning.’

When he had gone, Rico said uneasily, ‘I don’t trust that guy.’

Baird was settling down for the night. He pulled a blanket over him as he glanced up to stare at Rico.

‘What makes you think I do?’ he said curtly, and turned out the lamp.

II

From his lofty perch in the oak tree, Baird had a clear view of the large dipper dredge, operating a steam shovel that deposited its load in a waiting truck, parked on the concrete path constructed along the bank. Fifty yards farther upstream was a hydraulic dredge, driven by a diesel engine, that was removing the far side grass bank, widening the river.

Baird sat astride a thick branch, his back braced against the trunk, some thirty feet above ground.

Across his knees lay a .22 Winchester repeater, fitted with a telescopic sight and silencer. He was wearing a loose jacket and trousers of green and yellow camouflage: the kind of kit the U.S. Army issued for jungle fighting. He had smeared burnt cork over his face. No one looking up at the tree, even with the aid of field-glasses, could spot him.

Below him, also astride a branch and similarly dressed, Rico sat and sweated. Slung over his shoulder was a canvas sack which contained a dozen smoke bombs Baird had given him.

They could see the convicts working in the blazing sunshine, manhandling the mud as it poured from the steam shovel into the trucks; sweat poured off them as they toiled. They worked stripped to the waist; old, battered straw hats shielded their shaven heads from the sun.

Baird surveyed the scene through a powerful pair of glasses. Up to now he had counted three guards, and was trying to locate the other two. Two of the guards were on the bridge house of the dipper dredge.

One of them had an automatic rifle under his arm; the other appeared to have only a pistol at his hip. The third guard walked slowly up and down on the narrow deck of the hydraulic dredge. He was armed with an automatic rifle and a .45 Smith and Wesson.

Baird shifted his glasses to a building made of logs and thatched with saw-grass that stood in a clearing away from the bank. He spotted another guard sitting in the shade, astride a Browning machine-gun, covering the road that led out of the swamp.

The machine-gun startled Baird. Noddy hadn’t said anything about a machine-gun.

‘Take a look at that guy in front of the hut,’ he said in a low voice to Rico. ‘He’s the one I’ve got to take care of.’

Rico raised his glasses and nearly dropped them when he saw the Browning.

‘He goes first,’ Baird went on. ‘There should be one more guard, but I can’t spot him. What’s the time?’

‘Six minutes to twelve,’ Rico said, through dry lips.