Fast Buck

He stretched and closed his eyes. Rico watched him, fascinated. To be able to contemplate sleep at such a time! He had always known Baird had nerves of steel, and looking at him, a naked giant of solid bone and muscle, already dozing, Rico felt suddenly more hopeful. If there was a way out of this jam, Baird would find it. If they did get out of the swamp there was a quarter of a million dollars waiting for him.

An hour dragged by. Every now and then the sound of voices and the barking of dogs seemed unpleasantly close. Once Rico caught sight of some guards moving slowly along the opposite bank.

They passed without even looking across the river.

Hater showed no signs of recovering consciousness, and Rico wondered uneasily if he were going to die. He rigged up some shading for Hater by draping a blanket over the suitcase. It was very hot in the boat, and Rico longed for an iced highball.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, so he made no at empt to wake Baird. He sat in the prow of the boat, his ears and eyes missing nothing, while the hours dragged by.

By four o’clock the sounds of men and dogs had died away. The silence was broken now only by the drone of mosquitoes and the lapping of water against the side of the boat.

A river snake slid from under the boat and went swimming swiftly downstream, startling Rico. He took another drink from the whisky bottle, then reached over and shook Baird.

‘What’s up?’ Baird asked, instantly awake. His hand automatical y reached for the Winchester.

‘Isn’t it time we did something?’ Rico asked uneasily. ‘It’s after four o’clock.’

Baird sat up slowly and stretched. He touched his wrist with a grimace and shook his head.

‘I guess you’l have to do some work. This wrist of mine doesn’t feel so good. I doubt if I can use the paddle.’ He looked towards the opposite bank. ‘Seen anything?’

‘Nothing for the past hour. I haven’t heard anything, either.’

Baird took a drink from the whisky bottle, then lit a cigarette.

‘We’d bet er stay here until it’s dark,’ he said. ‘We might run into them on their way back. Now we’ve got so far, it’d be crazy to take any more risks than we have to.’

Rico shrugged. He wanted to get moving, but he realised what Baird said made sense.

‘How’s Hater?’ Baird went on.

They both looked at the still body lying at the bottom of the boat. They were startled to see the dark eyes were open and watching them.

Baird shifted over to Hater and knelt at his side.

‘Take it easy,’ he said. ‘You’re okay now.’

Hater made a soft, moaning noise, but he kept still. Rico leaned forward to stare down at him. Could this frail, odd little man, with his beetling eyebrows, his thin, emaciated face and body, his wild, staring eyes, be Paul Hater, the internationally renowned jewel operator? It didn’t seem possible, until Rico remembered Hater had been inside for fifteen years: probably been working in this ghastly heat and swamp for most of that time. He shuddered at the thought, wondering what he himself would look like if he had been through what Hater had had to face.

Baird undid the gag and lifted Hater’s head.

‘Have a drink, pal,’ he said, and offered the whisky bot le.

‘Who are you?’ Hater asked in a hoarse whisper. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘We’re get ing you out of here,’ Baird said. ‘You’ve got friends on the outside rooting for you.’

Hater licked his lips. His eyes went from Baird’s hard, expressionless face to Rico.

‘I haven’t any friends,’ he said.

‘Sure, you have,’ Baird returned. ‘You take it easy. You’ve got nothing to worry about now.’

Hater closed his eyes.

‘I know what you’re after,’ he mut ered. ‘But you’re not going to get it. No one’s going to get it.’

‘Don’t get excited,’ Baird said. ‘We’l talk about who’s going to get what when we’re out of here.’

Hater started to say something, but the effort was too much for him. His face went slack, and he seemed to drift off once more into unconsciousness.

After watching him for a while, Baird returned to his blanket. He sat down and began to pull on his camouflage jacket and trousers. When he had finished dressing he told Rico to go to sleep.

‘We’l get going as soon as it’s dark. Get some rest. You’l have to do most of the paddling.’

Rico was still watching Hater.

‘Did you hear what he said? Suppose he doesn’t tel Kile where he’s cached the stuff? The cops must have tried to make him spill it. If they couldn’t do it, how does Kile think he’l get him to talk?’

Baird shrugged.

‘That’s not my headache. If Kile can’t make him talk, maybe I’l take charge of him.’ He stared at Rico for a long second. ‘I could make him spil it. A half a mil ion’s worth taking a lit le trouble for. I don’t say it’d be easy, but in the end he’d come clean.’

‘Why don’t you do it now?’ Rico asked anxiously. ‘Why hand him over to Kile at al ?’

‘Suppose we did know where the stuff was hidden? What good would it do us? We couldn’t get rid of it. Talk sense. Kile’s got an in with this Rajah guy; we haven’t.’

Rico lay down in the boat. His feet were close to Hater’s head.