‘Are you wearing anything at all?’
‘Just these.’ She removed the specs and waved them gaily at me. She turned the light off as I slid in beside her. ‘When I came upstairs earlier there was a very pretty woman in here. She yours?’
‘No, she’s my employer. She told me she got lost. What was she doing?’
‘Turning you over. She looked quite professional.’
So; that was the way it was going to be.
I sensed there was more to come, so I asked, ‘What else were you going to tell me?’
‘Gonna fuck you tonight, Charlie – tired of waiting.’
Chapter Three
Love and Bullets
The man in the outer office chatting up Elaine, and sitting on the edge of her desk, could have come from the cover of that same Peter Cheney book. He had the trench coat and fedora, and used too much cologne. Why were men beginning to stink like French ballet dancers all of a sudden? He thought she’d fallen for whatever line he’d spun, but I’d seen that look in her eye before – she was about to run him through. My arrival on Randall’s aircraft, with the Handels in tow, had saved him from a tongue worse than death: Elaine had the ability to cut a person in half with a dozen well-chosen words.
He stood up quickly, and stuck out his hand, trying for the usual bone-crusher. I did what I always did – locked my fingers, and watched his face turn white with effort. The women smiled at each other; they’d seen male mating displays before.
Elaine said, ‘This is Mr Dory, Charlie. He’s come all the way from London to see you.’
Dory pulled his hand back.
‘My name is Harold.’ His voice was high-pitched, the vowels oddly rounded, and he rolled his Rs. A working-class Geordie trying to sound as if he’d climbed the golden ladder. For a moment I couldn’t place the sound in my memory. Then I realized that he sounded a bit like Pinocchio.
‘He’s been waiting an hour for you, Charlie,’ Elaine continued.
‘Mr Martenson sent me,’ Harold explained.
I said, ‘That doesn’t help much, Harold. I don’t think I know him.’
‘One of your mates does though. Some Pole who was here in the war – Arnie owes ’im a few favours.’ That figured. It was the way they did business in Pete’s world. Dory added, ‘I have to give you these.’
He pushed his hands into his coat pockets like Johnny Mack Brown going for his guns, and came out with a small cardboard box in each. When I took them their weight disagreed with their dimensions. Two boxes of bullets. Pete hadn’t turned up before I left: I’d wondered if he’d forgotten.
‘Thank you, Harold. Tell Mr Martenson I’m obliged. I’ll settle up with Pete when I see him.’ I had no doubt that I would. I gently ushered Hunky out of the building in front of me; bullets weren’t something I wanted to discuss in front of the others.
He walked to his car – a smart two-tone Riley One and a Half with the mock-leather roof. I followed him. In maroon and black it looked even better close up.
‘I like your car, Harold. What will it do?’
‘More than a ton, Mr Bassett: I had twin SUs fitted to her, and lowered the suspension an inch. The coppers haven’t a car in the kingdom that can catch me.’
‘Not that they’d ever have to.’
‘Nah. You’re right.’ And he laughed. He had a right nasty little laugh. I guessed he might even be a match for George Handel up a dark alley. ‘I like you, Mr Bassett. You can call me Harry. Take this.’ He’d pulled a visiting card from his top jacket pocket. All it had on it was a Plaistow telephone number. ‘Call me if you think we can do business.’
‘Thank you, Harry. I shall.’ We shook hands again without breaking fingers this once. I watched him drive away. Nothing flashy. He gave me a wave, and I suppressed a shudder.
Randall walked out of the office door as I approached it. He growled, ‘Those bastards!’
‘What bastards?’
‘Your fucking passengers! He tipped me thirty dollars like I was a goddamned taxi driver.’
‘You keep it?’
He glanced down at his hand as if he didn’t know. ‘Yes. Yes, I did. I was too surprised to throw it back at them.’ He had a bundle of notes crushed in his fist.
‘Good. Save it for later. We’ll have a few jars on them.’ One of the nice things about the local pub was that they changed currency for us like a bank. I hoped we’d find somewhere as accommodating near Panshanger.
Inside the office Elaine was filing one of her nails. She always did that when she was feeling feisty. I asked her, ‘Where are they?’
‘Using the cloakroom. I phoned for a taxi to get them to the station. They say they’re going to stay in a hotel up in town until you contact them. What are you up to, Charlie?’
‘Never you mind. Fancy a quick one when you’ve finished up this afternoon?’
She pouted. ‘I’d rather we went for a drink, if you didn’t mind.’
‘That’s what I meant.’
‘Oh.’ Some you win, some you lose, and some you don’t even bloody notice.
The Handels reappeared together. Americans take an inordinate amount of time to wash their hands, have you noticed that? Maybe it’s a fetish. I wondered if Doris had searched our lavatories, while George had been polishing his knives, but I didn’t have to small-talk them because old Harris’s taxi drew up outside – it was a big black Humber Hawk estate he’d bought from the undertaker. I always thought it smelt of formalin.
George did the handshake thing, and Doris gave me a kiss on the cheek. George had turned away from me as she did that. Her lips felt big and full, and I knew that she’d left her red brand
