and dumped me on the bed. I fought for breath, waiting for the next assault, but nothing happened. With almost everything hurting, I wrenched myself around to see a man standing beside the bed. He was so big he blocked out most of the light from the window. He wore the kind of high buttoning single-breasted suit that footballers wear to the tribunal and their court hearings. I recognised him as the man I'd seen leaving the Liston house that morning. Had to be Yolande Potare.
He cracked his knuckles with a noise like the rattle of small arms fire. 'You're a nuisance,' he said, 'and I don't like you.'
'Doing my job.'
'Interfering with the Lord's work.'
'You reckon the Lord likes to see sick women wasting away to death, do you? She's where she belongs, Mr Potare. Let it be.'
'I will. But first I'm going to make you sorry you ever got born. Stand up.'
The bedside lamp was anchored, and the clock radio; the only weapon to hand was a pillow. I slung it at him as I stood, hoping to distract him long enough to pick up something solid or, better still, get through the door. He swatted it away, grabbed me by the shoulder and drew back his other arm to totally rearrange my face.
The door burst open and two men came in. They weren't as big as Yoli but one was big enough. He grabbed Yoli's arm and swung him off balance while the other guy kneed him in the crotch. Yoli released me, bellowed with pain and rage and bent double. The smaller man flashed something in a leather folder under Yoli's eyes.
'If you want to be up on assault charges, you can be,' he said.
His mate took a handful of Yoli's suit collar and pulled him towards the open door as Yoli was still fighting for breath. 'Or you can just piss off.'
Yoli staggered through as he was released and the door was kicked shut behind him. I sat down on the bed and massaged my shoulder.
'Police?'
The big man dusted his hands off, looking pleased with himself. 'No. My name's McGuinness and this is… well, never mind. We work for someone who's anxious to meet you.'
'Look, I'm glad you happened along. Don't quite see how but-'
'That can be explained. Just stay put.'
I took a closer look at him. McGuinness was big, fair, freckled and running to fat. His exertions had left him short of breath. His mate was more compact, possibly smarter, but not in charge. Both had something like an ex- army or ex-cop poise I didn't like the look of, but there was no point in arguing.
McGuinness opened the door and gestured invitingly. I heard a car door slam and footsteps approaching on the concrete path. Leather soles, confident tread. McGuinness held the door wide open and Barclay Greaves walked in.
14
Greaves, looking like John Cleese with a gut, sat in the room's only comfortable chair. He would. McGuin- ness's mate opened the fridge, poured a glass of water and handed it to me.
'How're you feeling, Mr Hardy?' Greaves said.
I drank some water. 'I'm okay, Mr Greaves.'
He glanced at McGuinness. 'Did you mention my name?'
McGuinness shook his head.
'No mystery,' I said. 'I saw you in the company of Louise Kramer the other night. Checked your car registration and Bob's your uncle. We sort of met at Jonas Clement's party, if you remember.'
'Yes, indeed. Well, I'm impressed. Wasn't that a bit above and beyond the call of duty? Keeping tabs on your own client?'
'Can't be too careful. I knew she wasn't giving me the full picture.'
'I'm not sure anyone knows what precisely that is. Louise is devious. That's all right, so am I, and you seem to have acquired some formidable enemies. I'm told Rhys
Thomas gave you a hard time, and that big chap certainly wasn't friendly.'
'True. Well, your blokes helped me out there. I suppose I should be grateful.'
He nodded. He was immaculate in his suit, muted striped shirt and silk tie. His colour was a few shades too high and he was carrying those extra kilos. One-on-one I didn't think he'd give me much trouble, but the presence of the other two tipped the balance.
'Yes,' Greaves said. 'That should put us on a good footing, wouldn't you say?'
'All depends on what you want.'
He looked uncomfortable in the surroundings. Cheap motel rooms weren't his milieu and I felt encouraged because they were mine. McGuinness and his mate were standing around awkwardly. I got off the bed, picked up the pillow I'd thrown at Yoli and pulled out the plastic chair from the tiny desk. I reversed it, sat with my elbows on the back rest and faced Greaves. A quick nod was all he needed to dismiss his minions. They left the room without looking at me.
'Good at what they do,' Greaves said.
'Yeah. Be interesting if that big bastard's out there waiting for them.'
'I imagine they'll cope. What d'you know about me?'
'I'm expecting a phone call on my mobile,' I said. 'It's in the car. How about one of your blokes fetches it for me? It's in my jacket on the back seat. The back passenger side door doesn't lock properly. He can jiggle it open.'
He studied me for some seconds, shrugged, took a mobile not much bigger than a fountain pen from his jacket pocket and made a call. A few minutes later the door opened and a hand tossed the mobile at me. I caught it and the door closed.
'Not real polite,' I said.
'Let's stop pissing around. As you'll have gathered I'm… backing Louise's book.'
'Nice way of putting it.'
'Don't be a smartarse, Hardy. I can make life very difficult for you if I wish.'
I went to the fridge, took out a can of beer and cracked it. 'I'm sure you can,' I said. 'People with lots of money will try to do that. Trouble is, what they do sometimes comes back to bite them. Why don't you just tell me what your interest in this thing is and I'll decide whether to accommodate you, which at the moment looks unlikely, or to give the whole case the flick or maybe… even… play it some other way.'
'You're a nuisance. I advised Louise against hiring you.'
I shrugged and swigged some beer. 'You win some, you lose some. I found Billie. Cut her loose.'
'You did. I daresay I would have managed it in time, but I'll give you the credit. Now, I'll lay my cards on the table. I detest Jonas Clement and I'm willing to move heaven and earth to bring him down.'
'I got the feeling you weren't pals the other night. What did he do to you?'
'Never mind. I want to know what this woman knows about the killing of Eddie Flannery and everything else.'
I shrugged. 'We're a fair way off from that still. First, Billie has to be well enough and in her right mind enough to be talked to. Then her sister has to be convinced it's in her best interest to talk. For all I know, Billie might want to go back to singing hymns with the Islanders in Liston.'
Greaves looked annoyed. 'I understood it was mainly a matter of money-getting the right treatment for the woman.'
'Maybe, maybe not.'
'Why do I get the feeling you're being deliberately obstructive?'
I lowered the level in the can. I was almost enjoying myself. 'Why do I have the suspicion you might be planning to blackmail Clement? I don't give a rat's arse about him, but I've dealt with enough people of your stamp to know that they play a rough game by no known rules when it comes to business.'
