‘I wish I’d never touched this,’ he said in despair. ‘It’s ruined me.’
‘You can quit any time you like,’ Baird said. ‘If you don’t want your share, say so: al the more for me.’
Rico lapsed in moody silence. He sat still staring at the broad black ribbon of the road as it fled under the wheels of the Packard.
Every now and then Baird glanced into his rear mirror. The two distant headlights he could see puzzled him. There was a car behind him that had kept a hundred yards or so in his rear ever since he had struck the highway. He didn’t think anyone was tailing him, but he couldn’t afford to take chances.
It couldn’t be the cops. They wouldn’t hang behind like this. They’d overtake and force him to stop.
Who else could it be? One of the International operators? That was possible, and his thin lips set in a hard line.
‘There’s a car behind us I don’t like the look of,’ he said, giving Rico a nudge with his elbow. ‘Keep an eye on it. I’m going to try and shake it.’
Rico caught his breath in alarm and screwed around, staring at the two blobs of light that hung steadily in the rear.
Baird gradually increased pressure on the gas pedal. Slowly the car began to build up speed. From sixty miles an hour the speedometer needle crept up to seventy.
‘He’s stil there,’ Rico said.