I shot up the stairs and out of sight, glancing back after I’d rounded the corner to make sure he hadn’t seen me. He hadn’t. Davis was combing his hair, a fixed grin on his face. Flaggerty was buying himself a drink.
I walked along the passage to room 5, listened to the hum of voices from inside and then moved on. There were three other doors in the passage, but I didn’t bother with them. I headed for the second lot of stairs.
Half-way up I heard someone coming along the lower passage; I took the remaining stairs three at a time. I found myself in a dimly lit passage with two doors facing me.
Footsteps went along the lower passage, a door opened and then shut.
I stepped over to the first door facing me and listened. Silence. I moved along to the next door, listened. A voice was speaking, but the words were lost. I stood there, my ear to the panel, waited. Then I heard a muffled groan that set my teeth on edge. I was sure Brodey, was in there.
Any moment Sansotta might discover I wasn’t in room 5 playing poker. As soon as he’d found that out, he’d be looking for me. If I was going to do anything, I’d have to do it now and fast.
I turned the handle. The door wasn’t locked; it gave as I pushed.
I walked in.
On a bed in the corner of the room was a bald-headed man in a grey lounge suit. There was blood on his face and shirt front. One eye was closed and bruised, and a patch of broken skin showed by his right ear where he had been punched. His wrists and ankles were roped to the bed, and he was gagged.
Standing over him was a short, thickset man in a baggy brown suit. He was bow-legged and his battered, apish face was moronic and cruel. He was raising his great hairy fist as I walked in.