side. “Why did he come?”
“For another look at the opposition I think. Nothing like knowing the enemy — a cardinal rule of war and Vernon was a good officer, make no mistake about that.”
“But what was the point of all that business about selling out and asking you to lay off?”
“Who knows? It might have worked — perhaps that’s what he was hoping. He may even be up to something.” Duncan Craig smiled. “We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”
“What now, Mr. Vernon?” Ben Carver said as he turned the Rolls into the main road.
“We’ll go back to the club,” Vernon told him. “After lunch I want you to drive down to Doncaster to pick up Joe Morgan. I told him to leave the London train there just in case.”
“Do I bring him back to the Flamingo?”
Vernon shook his head. “No more indoor meetings — too risky. I’ll be waiting on one of those benches next to the fountain in Park Place.”
“Thinking of Craig?”
Vernon nodded. “There’s always the odd chance that he has more of those gadgets of his planted around the place.”
“When are we going to do something about him?”
“Thursday morning,” Vernon said. “Right after the job and just before we leave.” He leaned forward and his voice was cold. “And you can forget about the
It was cold in the mortuary and when Jack Brady lifted the sheet to reveal Billy Stratton’s face it was pale and bloodless.
“But there isn’t a mark on him,” Grant said.
“I wouldn’t look any lower if I were you,” Miller told him.
“What a way to go. You’re satisfied with the circumstances?”
“Oh, yes, the driver of that bus didn’t stand a chance. It was raining heavily at the time and Stratton simply plunged across the road, head-down. He’d been drinking, by the way.”
“Much?”
“Five or six whiskies according to the blood sample.”
Grant nodded to Brady, who replaced the sheet. “Who did the formal identification?”
“Ben Carver — reluctantly, I might add.”
Brady chuckled. “I had to twist his arm a little. He wasn’t too pleased.”
“Oh, well, I’m not going to weep crocodile tears over the likes of Billy Stratton,” Grant said. “We’re well rid of him.” He shivered. “I don’t know why, but this place always makes me thirsty. They must be open by now. Let’s go and have one.”
The saloon bar of the George had just opened and they had the place to themselves. They stood at the bar and Grant ordered brandies all round.
“What about these two villains who had a go at Craig last night?” he asked Miller. “Have you got anywhere with them?”
“Hurst and Blakely?” Miller shook his head. “A couple of real hard knocks. We’ve had a sheet on each of them from C.R.O. a yard long.”
“Which means they were specially imported,” Brady said.
Grant nodded. “I don’t like the sound of that at all.” He swallowed some of his brandy and gazed down into the glass reflectively. “You know I’m beginning to think I may have been wrong about this whole thing, Nick. It’s just that it seemed such an incredible idea.”
“Duncan Craig’s a pretty incredible person,” Miller said. “I tried to make that clear at the very beginning.”
“Have you seen him since last night?”
Miller shook his head. “I tried this morning, but he wasn’t available. Gone to Manchester on business I was told. Of course he’ll have to come in to swear a formal complaint.”
“When he does, let me know. I think I’d better have a word with him myself.”
“You’ll be wasting your time, sir,” Miller said. “He’ll insist that the whole thing was quite simply a common assault and we can’t prove otherwise.”
“But Hurst and Blakely won’t get more than six months apiece for that.”
“Exactly.”
Grant frowned. “There’s no chance at all that they might crack and admit who hired them?”
“If I know Max Vernon, they won’t even know his name,” Miller said.
Grant sighed and emptied his glass. “All in a day’s work I suppose. Let’s have another one.”
“On me,” Miller said.
“Oh no you don’t,” a cheerful voice interrupted. “My round. The same again, Maggie, and make them big ones.”
Chuck Lazer grinned hugely as he climbed onto a stool next to Brady.
“What’s all this?” Miller demanded. “Last time I saw you, you were on your knees.”
“With the world falling in on me, but not now, boy. Not with the pressure off.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Max Vernon.” Lazer shrugged. “I mean he’s on the run, isn’t he? Everyone knows his betting shops have taken a hammering since the Flamingo closed and now last night’s little affair.”
“And what little affair would that be?” Brady put in.
“Come off it,” Chuck said. “You know what I’m talking about. That place he was running up the York Road. The cut liquor racket.” He chuckled. “He was making a packet there, too.”
“You mean Max Vernon was behind that place?”
“Sure — everyone knows that.” Lazer looked surprised. “Didn’t you?”
Miller looked at Grant. “See what I mean, sir?”
Grant sighed. “All right. So I was wrong, but just try proving it, that’s all. Just try proving it.”
Park Place was a green oasis on the fringe of the city centre surrounded by old Victorian terrace houses already scheduled for demolition to make way for an inner Ring Road.
It was much favoured by office workers during their lunch-break, but at three-thirty when Max Vernon arrived it was quite deserted except for the cars parked round the edges and the small, greying man in the camel-hair coat who sat on a bench near the fountain.
He was reading a newspaper and didn’t even bother to look up when Vernon sat beside him. “I hope you aren’t wasting my time?”
“Did I ever, Joe?”
“What about that Cable Diamonds job? I got nicked — five hard years while you sat laughing your head off in some fancy club or other.”
“Luck of the draw.”
“You never get involved personally, do you, Vernon? You never dirty your hands.”
“Two hundred to two hundred and ten thousand quid, Joe. Are you in or out?”
Morgan’s jaw dropped. “Two hundred grand? You must be joking.”
“I never joke. You should know that by now.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Half — you provide your own team and pay them out of your cut.”
“And what in the hell do you do?”
