“You hurt, Gus?” the fat guy croaked, not taking his eyes off me. “Come on up... I've got the punk here.”
The only reply to this was another flow of blasphemy. That guy down there certainly knew all the bad words. The fat guy was in a spot. He didn't like to detach himself from me, but at the same time I guess he was itching to get down there and find out if the other two were badly hurt. There was only one obvious thing for him to do, and it didn't take him long to work it out for himself.
Although I was expecting it, I didn't expect a guy of his size to move so quickly. I managed to get my head rolling, but I didn't get started fast enough. The butt of his gun bounced on my head, and I slipped off the rim of the world.
CHAPTER TEN
FAINTLY, IN SOME bottomless pit, I could hear a woman screaming. I didn't care much, until the screams got louder, then I wished she would stop.
I opened my eyes and looked round. The flickering light of a candle that seemed to be floating above my head worried me, and I shut my eyes again. The woman who had been screaming had stopped. I thought that was a good thing. I tried to move my hands, but I found I was unable to do so. I began to take an interest in myself.
I opened my eyes again. Then I remembered. It was like having a pail of water tossed in my face. I tried to sit up, but they'd tied me. My head ached, but every second it was getting clearer. I always did say my skull was tough.
I was lying on the floor with my hands knotted behind my back with some thin twine that cut into my wrists. It hurt like hell.
Above me a solitary candle burnt. It was stuck on the mantelshelf, and its light sent dancing shadows round the room.
Cautiously I pulled myself up into a sitting position. The blood drummed in my head and I had to shut my eyes and take it easy for a bit. Then I got on to my knees and climbed to my feet. They hadn't tied my legs. I took a few steps up and down the room, to get my circulation working. In a minute or two, but for a headache, I was feeling fine.
Just then the door opened and the tall, thin guy walked in. He came in with a little limp, and he stood just inside the door and looked at me.
“H'yah, Gus,” I said, “I thought you'd broken your neck.”
In the flickering light Gus would scare most people. He'd got a completely flat face with small eyes and a little screwed-up mouth. The bones of his face seemed to be doing their best to burst through his lead-coloured skin. The bridge of his nose had been surgically removed.
He came into the room and shut the door. He shut the door very slowly and deliberately. I had a feeling that he and I were not going to hit it off.
He said, “I've got a way with wise guys.” His voice had the whine of a run-down gramophone. “You won't be so snotty when I've been through you.”
I moved slowly away from him. “Now don't do anythin' your ma wouldn't like to hear about,” I said. “Suppose you an' I talk things over.”
I was putting a lot of pressure on that twine, but it was so thin that it threatened to cut right through my wrists.
He followed me right across the room, until my back came against the wall with a little jar. I could just make out a little grin on his face as he swung at me.
I timed the blow and shifted my head. His fist sailed past, scraping my ear. His left followed that, but I twisted and took it on my shoulder. For a thin, miserable-looking guy, he'd got plenty of steam in his punches. I knew I wasn't going to keep this up for long.
Along came his right again, moving like a steam pile for the centre of my face. I bent my knee and dropped my head on to my chest. His fist parted my hair. Then I came up quickly, and dug my knee in his stomach. Can you tie that? This punk let me give him one like that.
He made a row like a deflated tyre and went over backwards. I wasn't going to sit around and nurse him. Stepping back, I took careful aim and kicked him on the side of his head as hard as I could. Over he went, his arms flung wide. That kick was a good one. He stayed right where he was.
I stood over him to hand him some more, but he was past caring about me. When I was sure he was out for keeps, I pulled my hands under me and stepped through my wrists, bringing my hands in front of me, instead of at the back. I examined the twine carefully. I looked at the candle and decided to have a try. I burnt myself once or twice, but I got free. The twine snapped after the third application to the flame. I rubbed the life back into my wrists and scratched the back of my head.
On the face of it, it looked like I'd only got the fat guy to worry about. I knelt beside Gus and went through his pockets. I should have felt a lot easier if I could have turned up a gun. But I didn't find one.
Having made sure, I stood up and walked softly to the door. I reckoned that I could take the fat guy on if I surprised him. I found I still had my torch. Moving softly, I slid out into the passage. I stood there listening. If I'd got my bearings right, Mardi should be behind the door on the far end of the passage. I walked quietly down and listened.
Just as I had my head almost touching the door, a sudden wild scream made me jerk back.
I almost burst in, but stopped myself in time. The idea was to get the fat guy to come out to me. I raised my hand and rapped on the door sharply. Then I stepped away to the head of the stairs and flattened myself against the wall. The passage had a sharp bend, so I was fairly under cover.
There was a moment's silence, then a light appeared. I crouched down to afford as small a target as possible, and prepared for trouble.
