Rico didn’t like the look of him. Not a man to be trusted, he thought uneasily: like a ferret.
‘So you got here,’ Noddy said, closing the door. ‘I’ve been in two or three times. No one’s been near.’
Baird waved his hand to Rico.
‘This is Ralph Rico. He’s working with me.’
Noddy gave Rico a sharp, inquisitive stare, and then came and sat down on the blanket. They lit cigarettes, and no one spoke until Baird had poured out three whiskies.
‘Hater okay?’ Baird asked abruptly.
‘Sure. The guy’s nuts, but he’s harmless,’ Noddy said indifferently. ‘Keeps to himself. I don’t reckon he ever opens his mouth. The other guys hate him.’
‘What’s the matter with him?’ Rico asked.
‘Stir-crazy, I guess,’ Noddy said. ‘Been in too long. He’s got something on his mind. You might have trouble with him.’ He paused to take a long pul at his glass, went on, ‘You didn’t make it clear why you wanted him.’ He was looking at Baird. ‘Or ain’t it my business?’
‘That’s right,’ Baird said, and yawned. ‘Five grand should take care of your curiosity.’