Fenner dropped into the cockpit. “What’s the matter?” he said. “Scared of the dark?”
“Listen, bright boy, suppose you lay oft the funny angle? I want you to go into the Chinks’ cabin and chain them together. There are the chains over there.”
Fenner looked at the heap of handcuffs linked together with rusty chains that lay in the corner. “What for?” he said.
“What you think? We gotta be careful, ain’t we? If a patrol boat gets on our tail, we shove the rats over. Chained like that they go down quick.”
Fenner said, “The things you think of!” He took the wheel out of Reiger’s hand. “Do it yourself. That ain’t up my street.”
Reiger looked at him in the dim light of the navigation lamp. “Somehow I don’t think you’re goin’ to be a lotta use with our mob,” he said, and picking up the chains, he climbed out of the cockpit and disappeared.
Fenner made a little face. He couldn’t see how much longer he was going to keep this up. He was nearly satisfied that he’d got as much information as he wanted. It depended on what this Glorie Leadler would have to say. If he got what he hoped from her, then he could strike and wash the whole business up.
A muffled sound of a gun going off jerked his attention to the boat again. He listened, peering ahead but seeing nothing. There was silence, and after a little while Reiger came back into the cockpit again.
Fenner glanced at him as Reiger took the wheel from him. Reiger’s face was hard and cold. “Trouble?” Fenner said.
Reiger grinned. “They don’t like the chains. I had to, shoot one of the bastards in the leg before they’d quiet down.”