There was a silence. In the east I saw a faint light. In an hour it would be daylight. There was a noise of lapping water.
“Why?” Pug said. “She's going to be sore.” Pug said: “What makes you think I care?”
“You care.”
I could almost hear the other guys listening. I was pretty sure Pug hadn't told them about his arrangement with the Vineyard. A guy like him wouldn't. He'd want to act like he was the big boss.
Pug said: “Where'd you get that idea?”
“Ask the Princess.” Pug was silent.
“Listen,” I said. “Send those mugs away.” I tried to see his face. “You're going to need all the help you can get after tonight.” The car shook a little as somebody shifted his weight. One of the seats had a squeaky spring. A current of cool air came off the lake.
“Do you know who you knocked off at Papas's?” I asked.
“I wasn't at Papas,” Pug said. “I can prove I was somewhere else.”
“Not if Gus talks.”
“He won't.”
“Don't be too sure.”
“Who was knocked off?” Pug asked.
“Did you ever hear of a guy named Caryle Waterman?”
This hit him. He was silent for a minute. Then he said to the hoods: “You guys scram.”
They climbed out of the car and went away. “I figured there was something funny about you,” Pug said.
“Look,” I said. “The Vineyard will be sore as hell about what you've done tonight. You know how they feel about rough stuff.”
“Do I?”
I went right on. “There'll be plenty of heat tomorrow. And you'll need the Vineyard's help. But you won't get it if you knock me off.”
“Who says so?”
“The Princess, for one.”
“Okay,” Pug said. “Maybe I'm in a jam. But why should I believe you?”
I told him some of the things the black-haired girl, Carmel, told me. I told him about the ten thousand a month split, and how the Vineyard ran most of the joints in the county.
“And if that doesn't convince you I'm in, ask the Princess.”
“If you're lying,” Pug said, “I'm going to chop you up like a hamburger.”
“Ask the Princess.”
“Okay, pal.”
I felt better. That gave me a little rime. Maybe I could get away before she came. Maybe something would happen. An earthquake, or a tidal wave. I wasn't particular. Pug called the others.
“We're putting this guy in storage for a while,” he said.
We drove back to the shack where they had got the wire and the rocks. The car stopped. “Get out.”
I got out. Pug told the others to stay with me. They prodded me towards the shack. Pug got in the driver's seat. “Be back in half an hour.”
We went in the shack. One of the toughs lit a lantern. It was the driver. The other one grinned at me. He had crooked teeth.
“You must of talked fast,” he said. “I had to,” I said.
He thought that was funny. He laughed. The driver was a dark man with a thin face. Something was wrong with his left eye. He didn't laugh. He watched me, keeping his pistol pointed at my stomach. He looked like an Armenian. “Sit down.”
There were three chairs around a stove. I sat in one of them. The shack looked like a place fishermen and duck hunters used. I saw some rods and some old boxes of twelve-gauge shells on the floor. There was a cot in the corner, and over it was a window with a cracked glass. The toughs pulled their chairs away from me and sat down. They kept their pistols on their laps.
I tried to figure an angle. If I could get one of them alone, I'd have a chance. “Is there any water?” I asked. “I'm thirsty.”
“He wants water,” the driver said. “Think of that,” said the other.
They didn't move. They weren't going to move. I shifted my legs and found I could reach the driver's chair. If I could hook my foot on the leg and pull the chair out from under him, I could make a play for his gun. That is, if the other guy didn't shoot me. I figured I'd have to take the chance. I was gone if I waited until Pug got back. I edged my foot nearer the chair. The driver cracked my shin with his pistol. “Don't get funny.”
The shin hurt like hell. I rubbed it for a while. “You boys play rough, don't you?”
“Shut up.” I could tell by their faces they would shoot if I made another move. It was a wonder the one with
