‘Pull me out, friend. Give me a break. Pull me out. I can’t hold much longer. I’ll do anything you want. Tell you anything.’ The Robber’s voice was a hoarse whisper of supplication.
‘What happened to Solitaire?’ Bond stared down into the frenzied eyes.
‘The Big Man did it. Told me to fix a snatch. Two men in Tampa. Ask for Butch and The Lifer. Poolroom behind the “Oasis”. She came to no harm. Lemme out, pal.’
‘And the American, Leiter?’
The agonized face pleaded. ‘It was his fault. Called me out early this mornin’. Said the place was on fire. Seen it passing in his car. Held me up and brought me back in here. Wanted to search the place. Just fell through the trap. Accident. I swear it was his fault. We pulled him out before he was finished. He’ll be okay.’
Bond looked down coldly at the white fingers desperately clinging to the sharp edge of concrete. He knew that The Robber must have got the bolt back and somehow engineered Leiter over the trap. He could hear the man’s laugh of triumph as the floor swung open, could see the cruel smile as he pencilled the note and stuck it into the bandages when they had fished the half-eaten body out.
For a moment blind rage seized him.
He kicked out sharply, twice.
One short scream came up out of the depths. There was a splash and then a great commotion in the water.
Bond walked to the side of the trap-door and pushed the upright concrete slab. It revolved easily on its central pivot.
Just before its edges shut out the blackness below, Bond heard one terrible snuffling grunt as if a great pig was getting its mouth full. He knew it for the grunt that a shark makes as its hideous flat nose comes up out of the water and its sickle-shaped mouth closes on a floating carcase. He shuddered and kicked the bolt home with his foot.
Bond collected the gold coin off the floor and picked up his Beretta. He went to the main entrance and looked back for a moment at the shambles of the battlefield.
He reflected that there was nothing to show that the secret of the treasure had been discovered. The top had been shot off the Scorpion Fish tank under which Bond had dived, and when the other men came in the morning they would not be surprised to find the fish dead in the tank. They would get the remains of The Robber out of the Shark tank and report to Mr. Big that he’d been worstei in a gun battle and that there were X thousand dollars’ worth of damage which would have to be repaired before the Secatur could bring over its next cargo. They would find some of Bond’s bullets and soon guess that it was his work…
Bond grimly shut his mind to the horror beneath the floor of the warehouse. He turned off the lights and let himself out by the main entrance.
A small payment had been made on account of Solitaire and Leiter.
CHAPTER XVI
THE JAMAICA VERSION
IT was two o’clock in the morning. Bond eased his car away from the sea-wall and moyed off through the town on to 4th Street, the highway to Tampa.
He dawdled along down the four-lane concrete highway through the endless gauntlet of motels, trailer camps and roadside emporia selling beach furniture, sea-shells and concrete gnomes.
He stopped at the ‘Gulf Winds Bar and Snacks’ and ordered a double Old Grandad on the rocks. While the barman poured it he went into the washroom and cleaned himself up. The bandages on his left hand were covered with dirt and the hand throbbed painfully. The splint had broken on The Robber’s stomach. There was nothing Bond could do about it. His eyes were red with strain and lack of sleep. He went back to the bar, drank down the Bourbon and ordered another one. The barman looked like a college kid spending his holidays the hard way. He wanted to talk but there was no talk left in Bond. Bond sat and looked into his glass and thought about Leiter and The Robber and heard the sickening grunt of the feeding shark.