He said to Miller: “Carlos never comes on these runs, does he?”
“Why should he?” Miller said shortly.
Reiger swung the car south. “You’re always askin’ questions, ain’t you?” he said.
They rode the rest of the way in silence. When they got down to the waterfront they left the car parked and walked rapidly down to the line of small shipping. A tall Negro and Bugsey were waiting alongside a forty-foot boat. As soon as the Negro saw them coming he climbed aboard and disappeared into the engine-room. Bugsey stood ready to cast off.
Reiger said, while Miller climbed aboard, “You don’t do anythin’ until they come alongside. Then you gotta watch them as they come aboard. Not one of these Chinks must have guns. The safest way to deal with them is to make them strip as they come on board. It takes time, but it’s safe. If you think one of them’s got a rod, take it off him. If he looks like startin’ anything, give it to him. Miller will take them from you and put them in the forward cabin.”
Fenner said, “Sure,” and followed Reiger on board. Bugsey cast off and tossed the bowline to Reiger. He waved his hand to Fenner. “Nice trip,” he said.
The Negro started the engines and the boat began to shudder a little. Miller was already down in the cockpit, his hand on the wheel.
Reiger said, “All right—let her go,” and the boat began to show her heels.
Reiger went over to the small but powerful searchlight on the foredeck. He squatted down behind it and lit a cigarette. His back was intent and unfriendly, and Fenner didn’t bother to follow him. He climbed down into the cockpit with Miller and made himself comfortable.
“What time will you pick these guys up?” he asked Miller.