Fast Buck (22 page)

‘An al igator?’ he repeated hoarsely. ‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. This river’s lousy with them,’ Baird said indifferently. ‘They’l leave you alone if you leave them alone. It’s crocodiles you have to watch. They’ll charge you on sight.’

Rico gulped.

‘Any around here?’

‘Not likely,’ Baird said. ‘Farther south you might find some, but not here, I guess.’

A big bird rose out of the saw-grass with a tremendous flapping of wings, and climbed above Rico’s head, making him start violently. The boat rocked, and Baird cursed him.

‘Sit still, can’t you?’ he snarled. ‘Do you want to have us over?’

A hundred yards farther on, Baird swung the nose of the boat towards the shore.

‘That is it,’ he said. ‘Mind how you get out. The ground’s like glue along the bank.’

The nose of the boat rammed the bank and sank into it.

‘Get hold of the boat and steady it,’ Baird said.

Rico got out awkwardly. His foot sank up to his ankle in the soft ground. Miserably he held the boat steady while Baird threw their suitcases on to the bank, and then worked his way aft and joined him.

‘Most of the ground near the shore’s like this,’ Baird said, hauling the boat into the saw-grass and picking up the Thompson and his suitcase. ‘Mind you don’t lose a shoe. This stuff pulls like hell.’

He began to walk through the high grass, forcing a passage, pulling one foot after the other out of the swampy ground.

Rico followed as best he could. He felt he was walking through a sea of molasses, and after he had gone a few yards he had sweated right through his clothes.

Baird seemed indifferent to the conditions. He kept on until he reached higher ground, then paused until Rico came panting up.

‘It’s okay here,’ he said. ‘It’s only by the water it’s so soft. Come on, let’s get under cover before these goddamn mosquitoes eat us alive.’

Rico followed him along a path bordered each side by dense thickets of custard apple. He could hear the steady pounding of the dredging machine distinctly now. It sounded close.

After walking some distance through the thicket, they came upon a small wooden cabin in what had once been a clearing, but which was now almost overgrown. Big cypress trees obscured the light around the cabin, but Rico was thankful to be out of the direct sunlight that had been scorching him during the trip up river.

‘This is it,’ Baird said, pushing open the cabin door. ‘Not much of a place, but it’l do. I found it when I came down to look over the ground. I’ve fixed it up pret y wel . There’re mosquito nets, food and all the stuff we want for a couple of days. Come on in and take a look.’

Rico entered the cabin and looked around the one big room.

‘Doesn’t anyone come here?’ he asked uneasily.

Baird shook his head.

‘No. Used to belong to the overseer of the dredging gang, but now they’ve moved up the river, he’s got another place. Noddy said he’d keep an eye on the stuff I left here.’ Baird went over to a pile of canned food, two wooden cases, blankets and mosquito netting stacked in a corner. ‘It seems to be all here.’

‘Noddy?’ Rico repeated. ‘Who’s he?’

Baird pulled a blanket from the pile, tossed it on the floor and sat down on it.

‘The guy who’s helping us,’ he said, looking at Rico, his pale eyes expressionless. ‘Can’t do the job without inside help.’

Rico got himself a blanket and sat down. His head ached from the heat, and his feet felt too big for his shoes. He pulled off his shoes with a grunt of relief, and sat back against the wall, wiping the sweat from his face. Roughing it in a swamp wasn’t his idea of enjoying life, and he thought wistfully of the quiet and luxury of his apartment, the ice drinks and an understanding woman to amuse him. He would gladly have given up his share of the half million if he could turn the clock back and pick up his life again before Zoe died.

‘Noddy,’ he said, looking questioningly at Baird. ‘Who is he? Can we trust him?’

‘We’ve got to trust him,’ Baird said curtly. ‘We can’t pul this without him. He’s one of the guys working the dredge. The gang is made up of three experts who direct the dredging operations, five guys who handle the dredge. Noddy’s one of them. Then there’re around fifty convicts handling the trucks and bulldozers, and doing the dirty work. There’re five guards on duty the whole time; armed with automatic rifles and a bunch of trained dogs.’ He stretched and yawned, went on, ‘I met Noddy in Astora. He goes in there every week for supplies. We got talking. He agreed to help get Hater out.’

‘What are you paying him?’ Rico asked suspiciously.

‘Five grand,’ Baird said. ‘Half tonight when he comes here to go over the plan, and half when we’ve got Hater.’

‘Five grand?’ Rico repeated, staring. ‘Now, wait a minute… five grand! That’l come out of our share.’

‘What’s the mat er with you?’ Baird said. ‘How do you imagine we can get Hater without inside help?’ He grinned slyly at Rico. ‘Maybe he won’t col ect the dough. He might run into trouble. This job’s not going to be a picnic’

He got up and began to prepare a meal. Rico sat watching him, brooding. He was surprised to see how efficient Baird was. He had a meal cooked on a small primus stove in a very short time. After Rico had eaten and washed the meal down with several whiskies, he felt less worried.

They sat outside the cabin, smoking, until the light began to fade, then Baird lit a paraffin lamp and put it in the window, and they made themselves as comfortable as they could on the blankets and waited for Noddy to show up.

He came when it was dark. They saw the beam of his flashlight some time before he reached the cabin. He pushed open the door and came in: a tall, thin man with a pinched, sallow face, lank black hair and stubble on his chin. He was wearing soiled duck trousers and a singlet, and carried a .45 Smith and Wesson in a pistol holster at his hip. A battered panama hat rested at the back of his head.

Rico didn’t like the look of him. Not a man to be trusted, he thought uneasily: like a ferret.

‘So you got here,’ Noddy said, closing the door. ‘I’ve been in two or three times. No one’s been near.’

Baird waved his hand to Rico.

‘This is Ralph Rico. He’s working with me.’

Noddy gave Rico a sharp, inquisitive stare, and then came and sat down on the blanket. They lit cigarettes, and no one spoke until Baird had poured out three whiskies.

‘Hater okay?’ Baird asked abruptly.

‘Sure. The guy’s nuts, but he’s harmless,’ Noddy said indifferently. ‘Keeps to himself. I don’t reckon he ever opens his mouth. The other guys hate him.’

‘What’s the mat er with him?’ Rico asked.

‘Stir-crazy, I guess,’ Noddy said. ‘Been in too long. He’s got something on his mind. You might have trouble with him.’ He paused to take a long pul at his glass, went on, ‘You didn’t make it clear why you wanted him.’ He was looking at Baird. ‘Or ain’t it my business?’

‘That’s right,’ Baird said, and yawned. ‘Five grand should take care of your curiosity.’

‘It does,’ Noddy said, grinning. ‘I plan to buy me a turkey farm. I’m about sick to the guts working in this goddamn swamp. Five grand’l be a life saver.’

‘Make sure you earn it,’ Baird said softly.

‘Sure,’ Noddy said carelessly, but his eyes went shifty. ‘When does the balloon go up?’

‘Tomorrow, midday,’ Baird said. ‘Let’s get this straight. Each of us has his own special job: I take care of the guards. Rico creates a diversion. You grab Hater and bring him to us. Okay?’

‘Sure,’ Noddy said. ‘That’s the way it was arranged.’

‘What diversion?’ Rico said, alarmed.

‘Smoke bombs,’ Baird said. ‘All you have to do is to toss the bombs at the big dredge. As soon as we have a blanket of smoke you make your way back here. Noddy and I will join up and bring Hater here.

Noddy goes back to the dredge with his dough. You and I and Hater will take the boat and get the hell out of it. That’s the set-up.’

Rico immediately saw a number of snags to this. How could he be sure Baird and Noddy would come to the cabin? Suppose they planned to double-cross him? They could make for the boat and leave him to get out the best way he could. Suppose Hater resisted? How could they hope to control a struggling man in such a frail boat?

‘How far do you think we’l get if they come after us?’ he asked, looking uneasily at Baird.

‘We don’t reckon they’l come after us. That’s why we’re coming back here,’ Baird said. ‘If you do your job right, there’l be a heavy smoke screen that’l blanket out everyone in sight. I reckon al the convicts will make a break. I’m relying on it. They’re certain to stampede. There are only three routes out of the swamp if you haven’t got a boat. These guys won’t have boats. They’l make for the three routes in small parties. The guards and the dogs will know they must be going by the paths and not by the river. We’l come here to give the guards time to take to the paths, then we go down to the boat and get clear.’

Rico looked a little less uneasy.

‘But if Hater resists? He’l upset the boat.’

Baird looked at him steadily, his pale eyes gleaming.

‘He won’t be given the chance to resist. I’l handle him.’

Noddy said, ‘He won’t be hard to handle. He ain’t got the strength of a mouse. When I’ve got him where do I find you?’

‘About seventy yards from where you’re working there’s a big oak. I’ll be up in that where I can get a clear view of the guards,’ Baird said. ‘As soon as the smoke gets going I’l come down. Meet me there.

We’l take Hater along the path, then through the thickets to here. I’l pay you off. Rico and me wil take over Hater, and you’l get back the way you came. If you’re spotted, you were going after one of the convicts, but he got away. Stall them so we can get clear. Okay?’

‘Sure,’ Noddy said, and rubbed his sweating hands on his knees. ‘I guess that takes care of it. At twelve tomorrow?’

‘Yeah,’ Baird said. ‘Hater will be where you can get to him?’

‘He’s working on my shift. I won’t make a move until the smoke starts. Then I’l grab him as if I thought he was trying to escape. As soon as the smoke gets thick I’l rush him to you. You’l have to handle him after that.’

‘If he gets tough, clip him and carry him. Think you can do it?’

Noddy grinned, showing tobacco-stained teeth.

‘For five grand I could push over the Woolworth building,’ he said. ‘I’l get him to you if I have to take him on my back.’

‘Right,’ Baird said. ‘I guess I owe you some dough.’

Noddy’s eyes glistened.

‘That was the arrangement.’

‘Give him twenty-five Cs,’ Baird said to Rico. ‘You’l get the rest tomorrow.’

Reluctantly, Rico went to his suitcase, opened it and counted out the money. He handed it to Noddy, who checked it, his breath whistling through his nostrils with suppressed excitement.

‘Gee! I’ve never seen so much dough al in one heap,’ he said, stuffing the money in his hip pocket.

He patted the bulge, grinning. ‘There lies half a turkey farm.’

Baird lit a cigarette. He held the flame of the match so it lit up his face. His eyes were like stones, and his expression menacing.

‘Maybe I’d bet er warn you not to try any tricks with me,’ he said softly. ‘Make sure you pul this job off or you won’t be interested in even half a turkey farm.’

Noddy flinched from the implied threat, but he managed an uneasy laugh.

‘Sure, sure,’ he said. ‘You can rely on me. You’l have Hater by tomorrow morning.’

When he had gone, Rico said uneasily, ‘I don’t trust that guy.’

Baird was settling down for the night. He pulled a blanket over him as he glanced up to stare at Rico.

‘What makes you think I do?’ he said curtly, and turned out the lamp.

II

From his lofty perch in the oak tree, Baird had a clear view of the large dipper dredge, operating a steam shovel that deposited its load in a waiting truck, parked on the concrete path constructed along the bank. Fifty yards farther upstream was a hydraulic dredge, driven by a diesel engine, that was removing the far side grass bank, widening the river.

Baird sat astride a thick branch, his back braced against the trunk, some thirty feet above ground.

Across his knees lay a .22 Winchester repeater, fitted with a telescopic sight and silencer. He was wearing a loose jacket and trousers of green and yellow camouflage: the kind of kit the U.S. Army issued for jungle fighting. He had smeared burnt cork over his face. No one looking up at the tree, even with the aid of field-glasses, could spot him.

Below him, also astride a branch and similarly dressed, Rico sat and sweated. Slung over his shoulder was a canvas sack which contained a dozen smoke bombs Baird had given him.

They could see the convicts working in the blazing sunshine, manhandling the mud as it poured from the steam shovel into the trucks; sweat poured off them as they toiled. They worked stripped to the waist; old, battered straw hats shielded their shaven heads from the sun.

Baird surveyed the scene through a powerful pair of glasses. Up to now he had counted three guards, and was trying to locate the other two. Two of the guards were on the bridge house of the dipper dredge.

One of them had an automatic rifle under his arm; the other appeared to have only a pistol at his hip. The third guard walked slowly up and down on the narrow deck of the hydraulic dredge. He was armed with an automatic rifle and a .45 Smith and Wesson.

Baird shifted his glasses to a building made of logs and thatched with saw-grass that stood in a clearing away from the bank. He spotted another guard sitting in the shade, astride a Browning machine-gun, covering the road that led out of the swamp.

The machine-gun startled Baird. Noddy hadn’t said anything about a machine-gun.

‘Take a look at that guy in front of the hut,’ he said in a low voice to Rico. ‘He’s the one I’ve got to take care of.’

Rico raised his glasses and nearly dropped them when he saw the Browning.

‘He goes first,’ Baird went on. ‘There should be one more guard, but I can’t spot him. What’s the time?’

‘Six minutes to twelve,’ Rico said, through dry lips.

Baird grunted. He began to search the bush with his glasses, but he couldn’t spot the fifth guard.