Fenner got to his feet. He said gently, “Take it easy. Carlos’ll pay for that all right. It wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did kill him. Leave Carlos to me. I gotta date with him.”
The woman said nothing. She suddenly stuffed her apron in her mouth and her face crumpled. She waved Fenner to the door wildly, and as he went out, she sank on her knees by the rocking-chair.
When Fenner got down to the harbor, Schaife was waiting for him outside the San Francisco Hotel. They went in and had two quick drinks and then Fenner followed him down to the waterfront.
Schaife said, “I’ve got two Thompsons and a lotta shells. Scalfoni’s brought a bag of bombs. God knows if those bombs are any use. He makes ’em himself. That guy’s been itchin’ to throw them at someone ever since he got the idea.”
Fenner said, “He’ll get his chance tonight.”
Kemerinski’s boat was of a good size. Alex and Scalfoni were smoking, waiting. Fenner stepped aboard as Kemerinski appeared from the engine cockpit. He grinned at Fenner. “Everything okay,” he said. “We can go when you say so.”
Fenner said, “Sure. We’ve got nothing to wait for. Let her go.”
The other three got on board, and Kemerinski went below and started the engine. The boat began to throb and Schaife shoved her nose off from the harbor wall.
Fenner said, “We’ll land on the village side and walk over. Maybe we’ll have to leave in a hurry.”
Kemerinski grunted. “This old tub ain’t too fast,” he said, nosing the boat carefully through the lights towards the open gulf.