Fenner nodded. “It’s a long way, but I think that’s where it’ll finish. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m going to see.”
Paula got to her feet. “Do I go with you?”
“You stick around here, baby. If I think something’s goin’ to start, I’ll have you down. Right now you’ll be more of a help here. Grosset’s got to be looked after. Tell him I’m out of town for a few days, but you don’t know where.”
“I’ll go over to your place and pack a bag for you.”
Fenner nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “do that.”
When she had gone, he went over to his reference shelf and checked the air time-table. There was a plane for Florida at 12.30. He glanced at his watch. It was five past eleven. If Ike phoned back quickly, he could just make it.
He sat behind his desk and lit a cigarette. He had to wait twenty minutes before the phone jangled. He snatched the receiver.
“The guy you want is Buck Nightingale,” Ike said. “He’s got his finger in most pies down there. Treat him easy, he’s gotta brittle temper.”
“So have I,” Fenner said unpleasantly. “Fix it for me, Ike. Tell him that Dave Ross’ll be down on the next plane an’ wants introductions. Give me a good build up. I’ll tell Paula to put a check in the mail for five hundred bucks for your trouble.”
“Sure, sure,” Ike’s voice was quite oily. “I’ll fix it for you,” and he hung up.