Rico pushed open the door of his office and went in. He turned on the lights and went over to the cellarette. With a shaking hand he poured two whiskies, gave Baird one and gulped down the other. He poured more whisky into his glass and then flopped into a chair.
‘You got me into this,’ he said. ‘You’ve got to get me out of it.’
‘It’l be easy if they don’t find her, but if they do…’ Baird shrugged. ‘Can’t you find out what’s happening?’
Rico gulped down his second whisky, picked up the telephone and dialled a number. After a slight pause, he said, ‘That you, Sam? This is Rico. Listen, I want you to get down to Pinder’s End fast. The cops are there. Find out what they’re doing and cal back. It’s worth fifty if you give me some fast action.’
He hung up and looked at Baird.
‘Sam’l find out. He’l cal me back.’
‘Where’s that five grand?’ Baird demanded. ‘Get it, and get hold of every buck in the place. Get moving: we may have to dust, and dust fast!’
Rico licked his dry lips.
‘What do you mean? I can’t just walk out of here. It’s my living. What are you talking about?’
‘Get the dough!’ Baird snarled. ‘You can stay here if you want to, but if they fish her out of the river, I’m going to be wel out of reach.’