Conrad worked steadily.
No one moved or spoke. Thunder continued to roll and rumble in the distance. The rain was falling less heavily now.
At the end of a quarter of an hour, Conrad sat back on his heels. His finger touched the artery in Pete’s neck. He shook his head.
“I’m afraid he’s gone. Here, Wilson, you take over. Keep at it. You other two relieve him.”
The guard came over and knelt astride Pete’s lifeless body. He continued the rhythmic pressure on Pete’s back.
Conrad went into the bathroom. O’Brien came to the door and watched him.
Conrad began a systematic search of the bathroom.
“There’s blood on the taps,” he said. “He must have slipped and caught his head, lost consciousness and went under.”
“Yeah,” O’Brien said. “The water was too hot.”
Conrad straightened and stared up at the window. The puzzled, searching expression in his eyes sent a chill up O’Brien’s spine.