She tried the door, pulling at the handle without success, and then she hammered on the panels. That gave her a horrible shock. The panels were covered with a thick layer of rubber. Her small fists bounced back every time she struck, and she could make no sound as she hammered.
She turned and stumbled blindly to the opposite wall and put her hands on it. Rubber again. The room was sound−proof, lined with heavy rubber, even to the ceiling.
She knew then that something horribly was going to happen to her, and she began to scream wildly.
18
June 6th, 12 noon.
RAVEN CAME out of the 22nd Club and signalled to a taxi. His thin white face was expressionless, but there was a triumphant gleam in his eyes. He carried a leather document case, and he climbed into the taxi with a new dignity that off−set his shabby clothes. He gave the address of his hotel and sat back.
The taxi was a symbol of his success. He hadn’t ridden in a taxi since he’d left Chi. Now things were going to be different. In the document case were papers that made him a rich man. Grantham hadn’t raised any objection. He had turned Mendetta’s shares over to him without a word. They were all bearer bonds. Nothing to connect Raven with him. But they meant money. He had been willing to have shared all this with Mendetta, but the rat had said no. Now he had it all.
The taxi swerved and pulled up outside the hotel. Raven paid him off and hurried upstairs. The three were waiting for him, still chewing, blank, stolid expressions on their faces.
Raven looked round at them and they in turn looked at him. He raised the case so that they could see it. He knew it was no use explaining anything about holdings or shares or bearer bonds to them. They hadn’t the mentality to understand. All they could understand was money. Not in cheques or bonds, but in notes and coin.
He took from his pocket his small, fast−vanishing roll. He peeled off two notes and gave them to Little Joe.