"Oh, no," Kettleman moaned. "They don't have a key. At least, that's what the other groups say. The Spooks just—just melt borough the walls, or something like that."
"Mr. Kettleman," Malone said, "where is this warehouse?"
"I shouldn't be telling you this," Kettleman said.
Malone sighed. "Please, Mr. Kettleman. You know we're working for the good of those boys, don't you?"
"Well, I—"
"Sure we are," Malone said. "So you can tell me."
Kettleman blinked behind his glasses, and moaned a little. Malone waited with his hands tense in his lap. At last Kettleman said, "It's on West Street, near Chambers. That's downtown." He gave Malone an address. "That's where it is," he said. "But you won't do anything to the boys, will you? They're basically good boys. No matter what. And they—"
"Don't worry about it, Mr. Kettleman," Malone said. "We'll take care of the Spooks."
"Oh," Kettleman said. "Yes. Sure."
He got up. Malone said, "There's just one more thing, Mr. Kettleman."