Tierney looked up sharply as the barman muttered to him. He had looked them over as they had entered, dismissing Audley but lingering over Faith. But now he was trying to place them both.
He hesitated for a moment, sipping the drink as though to establish its genuineness. Then he sauntered over to their corner.
'I don't think I've had the pleasure?'
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His eyes shifted from Faith to Audley, and back to Faith as he spoke. Neither of them replied, but Faith carefully removed her glasses and stared up at him for a long moment.
'Are you quite sure of that?' she said.
A lot depended on Tierney's memory for faces, and it would still require a remarkable leap of the mind, even after this morning's reminder of things long past. But to Audley, knowing the answer, the resemblance was plainer than ever: she had somehow caught the tilt of the head which had been characteristic of her father's pictures.
It was enough to shake Tierney, but he still failed to make the connection.
'Steerforth is my name. Faith Steerforth. You haven't forgotten John Steerforth, have you?'
'My God!' said Tierney.
'Sit down, Mr Tierney,' said Audley. 'My name's Audley. We'd like to talk to you about old times.'
Tierney tore his glance away from Faith. 'Old times?' He sat down, raised his glass to his lips and then abruptly set it down untasted.
His alarm bells were ringing loud and clear.
'Johnnie Steerforth's daughter! Damn me, but I can see it now.
Margery Steerforth's baby!'
'Margaret,' said Faith levelly.
'Margaret–of course! How well I remember her!'
Faith took a photograph from her handbag.
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'Then you'll recognise her now. And of course you will recognise me with her, won't you!'
Tierney studied the photograph.
'That's good enough then,' cut in Audley. 'We can get on to those old times.'
Tierney looked at him innocently. 'Funny you should be so keen on the old times. I had a couple of chaps asking me about them only this morning.'
Audley leaned forward. 'Don't mess around with me, Tierney,' he said conversationally. 'I'm not Special Branch and I'm not playing old comrades in this crummy little town for fun. I'm here on business and if you're very lucky you'll be able to help me.'
'I don't know what you're talking about.' Tierney picked up his drink and started to get up.
Audley reached forward and put his hand casually on the man's leg just above the knee, squeezing powerfully with his thumb and forefinger. Tierney gave a little snort of pain and sat down again as the leg gave way, slopping some of his drink on to the table.
Tierney looked from one to the other in a mixture of surprise and outrage. Possibly no one had ever done anything like that to him before, certainly not in a public place. Faith had put her glasses on again, and her face was closed behind them.
Audley turned the relaxing squeeze into a gentle pat. Now he had to turn the outrage into fear.
'That's better,' he said quietly. 'I wouldn't wish you to misunderstand me, like your little friend Morrison.'
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'Morrison?'
'Sergeant Morrison that was. Your look-out man. He didn't help us at all. So now he's not going to help anybody.'
'Who the bloody hell are you?'
It was not such an anguished cry as Morrison's had been. There was still a hint of fight about it. But this man lacked poor Morrison's years of blameless citizenship: he had no one to turn to.
'I've told you my name. You don't know who I am, but I know very well who you are. You brought it here, but your share in it has lapsed. Miss Steerforth has her father's share and I have the rest.
And I might throw you a bone or two.'
Tierney drained his glass slowly, trying to charge his confidence at the same time. There was a sly look about him now, a compound of caution and greed brought to the surface by the prospect of profit.
'I don't even know what it is–or was.'
That could quite easily be true, thought Audley. Morrison hadn't known either. There was no real evidence that Steerforth intended to double-cross his own associates, but whether he did or not it would be a sensible precaution to keep them in the dark about the nature of the cargo.
'We don't need you to tell us that. And if you did know it wouldn't matter. You haven't got the form to dispose of it, not in a million years.'
Tierney smiled obsequiously and gestured to the glasses on the table. It was dawning on him that he might actually be in a dummy4
bargaining position, and that thought was giving him confidence.
