Baird eased his powerful muscles. All along he had known Rico was a cowardly little rat. He had chosen him because of his cowardice. There were plenty of other fences in town he could have gone to, but none of them would be so easy to handle as Rico in a crisis. He knew, too, he had a fatal fascination for Rico. He was everything Rico wanted to be: big, strong, ruthless, and a killer; he was the out-of-reach fantasy of Rico’s private dreams.
‘I want some dough,’ he said. He lit the cigarette and flicked the match across the room. ‘Give me five Cs.’
Rico was frightened. Baird wouldn’t have said the woman might die unless he had a good reason for saying so. Murder! This was something he hadn’t bargained for when he had told Baird he could handle anything Baird brought to him.
He swept the bracelet across the desk towards Baird.
‘Not a dime! Take it and get out! Think I want to be caught on an accessory rap? Maybe you’re crazy, but I’m not!’
A muscle high up near Baird’s right eye began to twitch. He opened his coat so Rico could see the butt of the .45 Colt he carried in a holster under his arm.
‘Five Cs, Rico,’ he said, and Rico could read the threat in the pale eyes.
‘No!’ Rico said violently. His pock-marked face began to glisten with sweat. ‘You can’t do this to me, Baird! You’re not going to hold me up for something I don’t want! You and me have worked together…’
‘Five Cs,’ Baird repeated, ‘and snap it up. I want to get out of town before the heat’s on.’
Rico snarled at him. He looked like a cornered rat as he crouched over the desk, his teeth showing and sweat running down his face.