Why go to Birmingham? You can have one right here working in Kennedy’s place.’
Marlowe swallowed the rest of his brandy and considered the idea. It was just what he was looking for. A job in a quiet country town where nobody knew him. He could lie low for a few weeks, and then return to London to pick up the money when all the fuss had died down. After that, Ireland. There were ways and means if you knew the right people.
The whole idea sounded very attractive, but there was the added complication of the trouble with O’Connor. If that got too messy the police would step in. Contact with the police was the last thing he wanted at the moment.
He put down his glass carefully. ‘I don’t know, Papa. I’d have to think it over.’
‘What’s the matter? Are you afraid?’ Maria said bitingly.
Her father waved a hand at her impatiently. ‘You could stay here, son. You could have Pedro’s old room.’
For several moments there was a silence while they waited for him to answer. The old man was trembling with eagerness, but the girl seemed quiet and withdrawn. Marlowe looked at her steadily for several moments, but she gave no sign of what she hoped his decision would be. As he looked at her she blushed and frowned slightly, and he knew that she didn’t like him.
He half smiled and turned back to the old man. ‘Sorry, Papa. I’m all for a quiet life, and it sounds to me as if you’re in for quite a party in the near future.’
Magellan’s face crumpled in disappointment and his shoulders sagged. All at once he was an old man again. A very old man. ‘Sure, I understand, son,’ he said. ‘It’s a lot to ask a man.’
Maria moved over beside him quickly and slipped a hand round his shoulders. ‘Don’t worry, Papa. We’ll manage.’ She smiled proudly at Marlowe. ‘My father had no right to ask you, Mr Marlowe. This is our quarrel. We can look after ourselves.’
Marlowe forced a smile to hide the quick fury that moved inside him. He was seething with anger, and mostly it was against himself. For the first time in years he felt ashamed. ‘We can look after ourselves,’ she said. An old man, a young girl. He wondered just how long they would last when O’Connor’s tough boys moved in and really cracked down on them.
He reached for his coat and kept his face steady. Whatever happened he wasn’t going to get involved. All he had to do was keep his nose clean and lie low for a couple of weeks and there was a fortune waiting for him. A man would be a fool to risk everything after five years of blood and sweat. And for what? For an old man and a girl he’d known for precisely an hour.
He buttoned his coat and said, ‘Maybe I’d better be leaving after all.’
Before Magellan could reply there was the sound of a truck turning into the yard outside. It halted at the door and the engine died. ‘It must be Bill,’ Maria said, and there was excitement in her voice. ‘I wonder if he’s had any luck?’
The outside door rattled and steps dragged along the corridor. A figure appeared in the doorway and stood there, swaying slightly. He was a young man of medium size wearing a leather jacket and corduroy cap. His fleshy, good-natured face was drawn and white with pain. One of his eyes was disfigured by a livid bruise, and his mouth was badly swollen, with blood caking a nasty gash in one cheek.
‘Bill!’ Maria said in a horrified voice. ‘What is it? What have they done to you?’
Johnson moved forward unsteadily and sank down into a chair while Papa Magellan quickly poured brandy into a glass and handed it to him. Marlowe stood in the background quietly watching.
‘Who beat you up, boy?’ Magellan demanded grimly. ‘O’Connor’s men?’
Johnson swallowed his brandy and gulped. He appeared to find difficulty in speaking. Finally he said, ‘Yes, it was that big chap, Blackie Monaghan. I went round the shops like you told me, and it worked fine. I got rid of all the stuff for cash.’ He pulled a bundle of banknotes out of his jacket pocket and tossed them on to the table. ‘One or two people told me they weren’t interested. I think someone must have tipped O’Connor off.’
He paused again and closed his eyes as if he was on the point of passing out. Marlowe had been watching him closely. A cynical grin curled the corners of his mouth. Johnson had been slapped around a little, but nothing like as badly as he was trying to make out. He was over-dramatizing the whole thing, and there had to be a reason.
‘Go on, son,’ Magellan said sympathetically. ‘Tell us what happened then.’
‘I was having a cup of tea in the transport café just this side of Barford on the Birmingham road. Monaghan came in with a couple of young toughs that hang around with him. They always turn up at the Plaza on Saturday nights after the pubs close, causing trouble. Monaghan followed me outside and picked a fight. Said I’d been messing around with his girl at the dance last Saturday night.’
‘Is that true?’ Magellan asked.
Johnson shook his head. ‘I didn’t even know what he was talking about. I tried to argue with him, but he knocked me down. One of his friends kicked me in the face, but Monagan stopped him and said I’d had enough. He told me I’d stay out of Barford if I knew what was good for me.’
Magellan shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Why this?’ he said. ‘I don’t understand?’
Marlowe laughed shortly. ‘It’s the old tactics, Papa. Officially this has nothing to do with O’Connor’s feud with you. It’s just a coincidence that Johnson works for you.’
Maria’s face was white with anger. ‘We must go to the police,’ she said. ‘He can’t get away with this.’
Marlowe shrugged. ‘Why not? If Johnson went to the police what good would it do? It wouldn’t touch O’Connor. Monaghan would be fined a couple of pounds for common assault and that would be that.’
‘I don’t want to go to the police,’ Johnson interrupted, and there was alarm in his voice.
Papa Magellan frowned. ‘Why not, son? You could have the satisfaction of seeing Monaghan in court, at least.’
Johnson got up. All at once he seemed capable of standing without swaying. His voice was a little shrill as he said, ‘I don’t want any more trouble. I don’t want to get mixed up in this any further. I didn’t know it was going to be like this.’ His face was stained with fear, and there was a crack in his voice. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Magellan. You’ve been pretty good to me, but I’ll have to look for another job.’ He stood there, twisting the cap between his hands. ‘I won’t be in tomorrow.’
There was a moment of shocked silence, and Maria turned away, stifling a sob. Magellan reached out blindly for support, his whole body sagging so that he looked on the point of collapse.
Marlowe found himself reaching for the old man, supporting him with his strong arms, easing him down into a chair. ‘Don’t worry, Papa,’ he said. ‘It’s going to be all right. Everything’s going to be fine.’
He straightened up and looked at Johnson. Shame was beginning to replace the look of fear on the other’s face, and then that terrible, uncontrollable anger that he was powerless to control, lifted inside Marlowe. He surged forward and grabbed Johnson by the throat and shook him like a rat. ‘You dirty, yellow little swine,’ he raged. ‘I’ll give
