brown eyes, the amiably undistinguished features, to King Rat who knew everybody and everything. But it was impossible, and that was truly frightening.
He looked from King to his PA. This was better. Mi- mi's eyes were shining with excitement, like a kid who's been promised a fun outing with a favorite uncle. How could he disappoint her? And surely her involvement confirmed this was a genuine job. He must be crazy to think anyone would go to this trouble just to divert his attention from a case that only his soft heart had prevented him from giving up already.
His soft heart and Porphyry's hard cash, he corrected himself. Which he could now afford to refund in full and hardly feel any pain at all.
He said, 'When would you want me to start?'
'Your fee-payment meter started ticking at three o'clock, or perhaps we should more strictly say five to three when you turned up here,' said King. 'But you need not bother with hands-on involvement till tomorrow morning. That will give you time to clear your decks, so to speak, and of course to pack.'
'Pack?'
'Oh yes. Didn't I say? Our man is flying out to Spain in the morning. Hopefully he'll feel relaxed enough there to drop his guard and give himself away, if there is anything to give away. Mimi…'
Mimi handed him a pale green plastic file smart enough to deserve a Gucci label.
'You'll find your ticket and hotel reservation in there, along with photographs and a full briefing,' she said. 'Plus a small float to cover initial expenses. It's an early start, I'm afraid. Plane leaves at seven a.m., so we need to check in by five thirty. Any queries and you can get me on my mobile, The number's in there.'
'Goodbye, Mr. Sixsmith. I'm so glad you are able to help me out here. And believe me, if in the end your report is completely negative, I shall be very pleased to hear that too. Goodbye now.'
Joe shook hands. As he and Mimi headed for the lift, Hardman said, 'Nice to have you on board, Joe.'
He was Joe now. Should have come over real friendly, but the message Joe got from those cold eyes was that the alternative to coming on board was being tossed over the side with an anchor chain round your neck.
In the lift he said to Mimi, 'That guy Hardman, is that really his name?'
'Never seen his birth certificate, Joe,' she said. Again he caught a note of dislike which emboldened him to say, 'He ain't the same sort of PA as you, I'd guess.'
'What sort is that, Joe?'
'Sort of gorgeous.'
She laughed her champagne bubbly laugh and said, 'I can see I'm going to have to watch you. And if you see Stephen coming, maybe you'd better watch him, Joe. I don't know exactly how he assists Mr. King, and I don't want to know.'
The lift door opened. Joe stepped out. Mimi stayed where she was and said, 'See you tomorrow, Joe. I'll pick you up, shall I? I've got to pass Rasselas on my way to the airport. Five o'clock, OK? I can't wait!'
Then the door closed and she was gone. And if it hadn't been for the elegant pale green file in his hand, Joe might have thought it was all a dream. He opened the file as he made his way out of ProtoVision House. It was all there as Mimi had itemized with the small expense float consisting of an envelope containing five hundred euros.
Outside, the hot air of Luton's long summer hit him like a barber's towel.
But the euros didn't dissolve.
So definitely not a dream.
Which didn't necessarily mean it might not be a nightmare.
12
The Hole
The Hole in the Wall pub was a popular trysting point for Luton's wild young things looking to tread the primrose paths to clubbing pleasure. Here they met old friends, discussed new plans, and took on board the liquids and medicaments necessary to keep them going during the long night's journey into day ahead.
As Joe entered the cavernous bar, his mind went back to a time when the pub had had four separate rooms distinguished by decor, size and function as indicated by their names, which were the Public, the Snug, the Mixed, and the Snooker. Then the sign above the entrance had read the Jolly Sailor. Later it changed to Finbar McCool's and the room names changed also to the Shebeen, the Crack, the Ceilidh and the Aitch-Block. That experiment had ended in tears and a riot, the damage caused by which had probably given the next owner the idea of knocking down what remained of the interior walls, putting in a central round bar, and rechristening it the Hole in the Wall.
In another hour you would need a shovel to dig your way through to the bar. At seven-thirty it was just beginning to fill and he had no problem spotting Eloise and Chip. The former was wearing a halter and skirt that made the office wear that had so affected Joe's blood pressure look like a burqa.
The latter was wearing a puzzled frown, which meant that Eloise had forgotten to mention that Joe might be showing up.
'Mr. Sixsmith,' said Chip. 'Hello again.'
Joe didn't blame him for being puzzled. The Hole was not the kind of place you expected to encounter prospective members of the Royal Hoo.
He sat down and said, 'Hi, Chip. Hi, Eloise.'
'You two know each other?' said Chip.
'Long time,' said Eloise.
Then, perhaps to compensate for not preparing the ground, or more likely because she reckoned if she let a pair of men enter the mazy paths of explanation, they'd never get out, she reduced the situation to its basics.
'Joe's a PI. He's been hired by Mr. Porphyry to look into something at the golf club. I said being as it's Mr. Porphyry, you might like to help.'
Chip Harvey looked far from enthusiastic at the prospect. In fact he looked seriously pissed, but before he could respond, Eloise leaned forward to give him a long and breathtaking kiss, and Joe a long and breathtaking view down her halter, then said, 'I'll get some booze while you two talk. Guinness, Joe. Right?'
The kiss was the kind of incentive to co-operation Joe couldn't match so he didn't bother with his prepared line about knowing Chip was a loyal and discreet employee of the Hoo but sometimes a guy had to choose between loyalties and anything said here and now was in absolute confidence etc., etc.
Instead he said, 'In the car park you were definite Chris Porphyry couldn't have cheated. Was that you being polite 'cos you thought I was his friend?'
Still feeling the intoxication of that promissory kiss, Chip said emphatically, 'No way!'
'So what do you think's going on?'
'Has to be a mistake, doesn't it?'
'Like a coincidence, you mean? He hits a ball into the wood just at the same time as a passing sparrow drops an identical ball into Mr. Postgate's swimming pool? You get a lot of trouble with sparrows stealing balls at the Hoo?'
'No. Sometimes a dog…'
'A flying dog? Flying pigs more likely, Chip. Come on. What's the crack? You must have talked it over with friends on the staff. And I dare say you've heard some of the members talking about it, too.'
'Yeah, maybe.'
The tone had changed to cautious. He was coming out of his kiss-trance. Time to remind him.
'Look, Chip, I don't want to harass you, OK? Only Eloise seemed to think you liked Mr. Porphyry enough to want to help him. I know he'd be very grateful. Eloise too. She thinks you're pretty special. But I can see this bothers you. Look, best I just head on out of here. Tell Eloise I'm sorry she got stung for a Guinness. You like Guinness, Chip? Maybe she'll give it to you.'
It was hardly fair, but as Merv Golightly was wont to say, fair doesn't get you rich and it doesn't get you laid.
