Rico got himself a blanket and sat down. His head ached from the heat, and his feet felt too big for his shoes. He pulled off his shoes with a grunt of relief, and sat back against the wall, wiping the sweat from his face. Roughing it in a swamp wasn’t his idea of enjoying life, and he thought wistfully of the quiet and luxury of his apartment, the ice drinks and an understanding woman to amuse him. He would gladly have given up his share of the half million if he could turn the clock back and pick up his life again before Zoe died.
‘Noddy,’ he said, looking questioningly at Baird. ‘Who is he? Can we trust him?’
‘We’ve got to trust him,’ Baird said curtly. ‘We can’t pul this without him. He’s one of the guys working the dredge. The gang is made up of three experts who direct the dredging operations, five guys who handle the dredge. Noddy’s one of them. Then there’re around fifty convicts handling the trucks and bulldozers, and doing the dirty work. There’re five guards on duty the whole time; armed with automatic rifles and a bunch of trained dogs.’ He stretched and yawned, went on, ‘I met Noddy in Astora. He goes in there every week for supplies. We got talking. He agreed to help get Hater out.’
‘What are you paying him?’ Rico asked suspiciously.
‘Five grand,’ Baird said. ‘Half tonight when he comes here to go over the plan, and half when we’ve got Hater.’
‘Five grand?’ Rico repeated, staring. ‘Now, wait a minute… five grand! That’l come out of our share.’
‘What’s the matter with you?’ Baird said. ‘How do you imagine we can get Hater without inside help?’ He grinned slyly at Rico. ‘Maybe he won’t col ect the dough. He might run into trouble. This job’s not going to be a picnic’
He got up and began to prepare a meal. Rico sat watching him, brooding. He was surprised to see how efficient Baird was. He had a meal cooked on a small primus stove in a very short time. After Rico had eaten and washed the meal down with several whiskies, he felt less worried.
They sat outside the cabin, smoking, until the light began to fade, then Baird lit a paraffin lamp and put it in the window, and they made themselves as comfortable as they could on the blankets and waited for Noddy to show up.
He came when it was dark. They saw the beam of his flashlight some time before he reached the cabin. He pushed open the door and came in: a tall, thin man with a pinched, sallow face, lank black hair and stubble on his chin. He was wearing soiled duck trousers and a singlet, and carried a .45 Smith and Wesson in a pistol holster at his hip. A battered panama hat rested at the back of his head.