"Oh, it's a big empty warehouse," Kettleman said. "I really feel
terrible about this. They're meeting there tonight some time, or that's
what the rumors say. I shouldn't be telling you--"
"Of course you should," Malone said, trying to sound reassuring. "Don't
worry about a thing, Mr. Kettleman. Tonight?"
"That's right," Kettleman said eagerly. He grinned and then looked
morosely down at his hands.
"Do you know where this warehouse is?" Malone said. "If any of the other
little social groups use it--"
"Oh, no, they don't," Kettleman said. "That's what makes it so funny.
You see, the warehouse is deserted, but it's kept in good repair; there
are bars on the windows, and it's protected by all sorts of alarm
systems and things like that. So none of the others can use it. Only the
Spooks. You can't get in without a key, not at all."
"But do the Spooks--" Malone began.
"Oh, no," Kettleman moaned. "They don't have a key. At least, that's
what the other ... social groups say. The Spooks just ... just melt
through 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."