“They’ll pay all right.” Max’s harsh voice floated on the still air, and George shivered. These people, so calculating, so ordinary to look at, plotting revenge in the hot sunshine, had a nightmare quality that made his flesh creep. “We’ll have to find out about the big man. We’ll have to find out where the whip came from. Once we know that, it’ll be easy!”
Emily brooded. “Well, trace it. The price ticket will help.” She looked across at the Greek, Nick. “Get the whip,” she went on. “I want to examine it.”
With his blood freezing in his heart, George watched the Greek get up and wander into the bungalow. He was away a few minutes and then he came to the door.
“It is not there,” he called.
“The whip,” Emily said, snapping her fingers impatiently. “Don’t keep me waiting. Bring me the whip.”
“It is not there, I tell you,” Nick said indifferently. Emily and Max exchanged glances.
“Find it for the fool,” she said.
Max got up and walked stiffly into the bungalow. Nick shrugged. He came hack and sat down, a frown of irritation on his flat, ugly face.
“He will not find it,” he said sullenly. “It is gone.”
Emily said nothing, but her fat hands squeezed into fists.