‘So long, then, Sid. Oh, by the way, I brought this for you to read. I thought you might be interested.’
He pulled a glossy booklet folded lengthwise out of an inner pocket and threw it over on to the bed. It fell just out of my reach, and the nurse picked it up to give it me. Then suddenly she held on to it tight.
‘Oh no,’ she said. ‘You can’t give him that!’
‘Why not?’ said Chico. ‘What do you think he is, a baby?’
He went out and shut the door. The nurse clung to the booklet, looking very troubled. I held out my hand for it.
‘Come on.’
‘I think I ought to ask the doctors…’
‘In that case,’ I said, ‘I can guess what it is. Knowing Chico. So be a dear and hand it over. It’s quite all right.’
She gave it to me hesitantly, waiting to see my reaction when I caught sight of the bold words on the cover.
‘Artificial Limbs. The Modern Development.’
I laughed. ‘He’s a realist,’ I said. ‘You wouldn’t expect him to bring fairy stories.’
TWENTY
When Radnor came the next day he looked tired, dispirited, and ten years older. The military jauntiness had gone from his bearing, there were deep lines around his eyes and mouth, and his voice was lifeless.
For some moments he stared in obvious distress at the white-wrapped arm which stopped abruptly four inches below the elbow.
‘I’m sorry about the office,’ I said.
‘For God’s sake…’
‘Can it be rebuilt? How bad is it?’
‘Sid…’
‘Are the outside walls still solid, or is the whole place a write-off?’
‘I’m too old,’ he said, giving in, ‘to start again.’
‘It’s only bricks and mortar that are damaged. You haven’t got to start again. The agency is you, not the building. Everyone can work for you just as easily somewhere else.’
He sat down in an arm-chair, rested his head back, and closed his eyes.
‘I’m tired,’ he said.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve had much sleep since it happened.’
‘I am seventy-one,’ he said flatly.
I was utterly astounded. Until that day I would have put him in the late fifties.
‘You can’t be.’
‘Time passes,’ he said. ‘Seventy-one.’
‘If I hadn’t suggested going after Kraye it wouldn’t have happened,’ I said with remorse. ‘I’m so sorry… so sorry…’
He opened his eyes. ‘It wasn’t your fault. If it was anyone’s it was my own. You wouldn’t have let Hagbourne take those photographs to Seabury, if it had been left to you. I know you didn’t like it, that I’d given them to him. Letting the photographs go to Seabury was the direct cause of the bombs, and it was my mistake, not yours.’
‘You couldn’t possibly tell,’ I protested.
‘I should have known better, after all these years. I think… perhaps I may not see so clearly… consequences, things like that.’ His voice died to a low, miserable murmur. ‘Because I gave the photographs to Hagbourne… you lost your hand.’
‘No,’ I said decisively. ‘It’s ridiculous to start blaming yourself for that. For heaven’s sake snap out of it. No one in the agency can afford to have you in this frame of mind. What are Dolly and Jack Copeland and Sammy and Chico and all the others to do if you don’t pick up the pieces?’
He didn’t answer.
‘My hand was useless, anyway,’ I said. ‘And if I’d been willing to give in to Kraye I needn’t have lost it. It had nothing whatever to do with you.’
He stood up.
‘You told Kraye a lot of lies,’ he said.
‘That’s right.’
‘But you wouldn’t lie to me.’
‘Naturally not.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Concentrate on it. It’ll come in time.’
‘You don’t show much respect for your elders.’
‘Not when they behave like bloody fools,’ I agreed dryly.
He blew down his nostrils, smouldering inwardly. But all he said was, ‘And you? Will you still work for me?’
‘It depends on you. I might kill us all next time.’
‘I’ll take the risk.’
‘All right then. Yes. But we haven’t finished this time, yet. Did Chico get the negatives?’
‘Yes. He had two sets of prints done this morning. One for him, and he gave me one to bring to you. He said you’d want them, but I didn’t think…’
‘But you did bring them?’ I urged.
‘Yes, they’re outside in my car. Are you sure…?’
‘For heaven’s sake,’ I said in exasperation. ‘I can hardly wait.’
By the following day I had acquired several more pillows, a bedside telephone, and a reputation for being a difficult patient.
The agency re-started work that morning, squeezing into Radnor’s own small house. Dolly rang to say it was absolute hell, there was only one telephone instead of thirty, the blitz spirit was fortunately in operation, not to worry about a thing, there was a new word going round the office, it was Halley-lujah, and goodbye, someone else’s turn now.
Chico rang a little later from a call box.
‘Sammy found that driver, Smith,’ he said. ‘He went to see him in Birmingham yesterday. Now that Kraye’s in jug Smith is willing to turn Queen’s evidence. He agreed that he did take two hundred and fifty quid, just for getting out of his cab, unclipping the chains when the tanker had gone over, and sitting on the side of the road moaning and putting on an act. Nice easy money.’
‘Good,’ I said.
‘But that’s not all. The peach of it is he still has the money, most of it, in a tin box, saving it for a deposit on a house. That’s what tempted him, apparently, needing money for a house. Anyway, Kraye paid him the second instalment in tenners, from one of the blocks you photographed in his case. Smith still has one of the actual tenners in the pictures. He agreed to part with that for evidence, but I can’t see anyone making him give the rest back, can you?’
‘Not exactly!’
‘So we’ve got Kraye nicely tied up on malicious damage.’
‘That’s terrific,’ I said. ‘What are they holding him on now?’
‘G.B.H. And the others for aiding and abetting.’
‘Consecutive sentences, I trust.’
‘You’ll be lucky.’
I sighed. ‘All the same, he still owns twenty-three per cent of Seabury’s shares.’
‘So he does,’ agreed Chico gloomily.
