Kells sat for several minutes staring absently at a long scratch on the back of the front seat. Then he said: “Let’s go in and see what we can find.” He leaned forward.
Faber lifted the flap of the right side pocket, slipped a black Luger out onto the seat beside him. He turned and looked at Kells and nodded at the gun. Kells reached over and took the gun and stuck it into the waistband of his trousers, pulled the point of his vest down over it.
“We’re going in to try to find a hundred and fifteen grand in cash,” he said. “I don’t know who’s got it — we’ll have to try the mailboxes and see if we can get a lead.”
Borg said: “We probably won’t.”
Kells opened the door and started to get out.
“Why don’t you wait here and I’ll see if I can find anything?” Borg took a light-colored cigar out of his outer breast pocket and bit off the end.
Kells looked at him a moment sleepily, nodded, sat down.
Borg went up the street and disappeared into the Villa Dora. He was back in a few minutes with a soiled envelope on which he had scrawled the names of the occupants.
Kells took it, looked at it, asked: “Are you sure this is all?”
“Yeah.” Borg nodded. “It’s a big joint, but I guess the apartments are big too — there are only twelve mailboxes.”