A Devil Is Waiting - Jack Higgins [29]
“Thank you, Daniel, but the other thing I stipulated was somewhere interesting, so what’s it to be?”
“You’ve got to meet Harry and Billy Salter sometime, so I thought we’d combine business with pleasure and visit the Dark Man down on Cable Wharf at Wapping. That’s Harry’s pub.”
“Well, that sounds fun,” she said as they drove away.
The Citroën went after them, and Kelly said, “What are we going to do?”
“Who knows?” Henri told him. “We’ll just hang in there and see where they go.”
SIX
It was dark below by the Thames as the Alfa moved down the hill and pulled up in front of the pub, which was ablaze with lights.
“Well, here we are, the Dark Man, the first piece of property Harry Salter ever owned, the beginnings of his empire.”
Sara smiled. “Oh, he has one of those, does he?”
“Ever since he discovered there was more money to be made from business than crime. He was known in the London underworld as a right villain. He only did prison time once in his youth, and that was enough. These days he’s behind some of the biggest developments on the river.”
“And his connection with Ferguson? What’s all that about?”
“A bit like the rest of us, pulling together in these uncertain times to keep the ship afloat. London gangsters have their uses.”
“Just like reformed IRA gunmen.” She got out and limped quite heavily to the edge of the jetty, looking across at a passing riverboat, music echoing over the water. “I love all this, even the smell of it.”
He moved to her side. “Are you okay?”
She glanced at him. “You’re worried about my leg, aren’t you? I’m fine, really I am. So I get a bit cramped in a car and I need to loosen up a touch when I’m on my feet.”
He felt suddenly awkward. “I was just concerned.”
“I know, but it is what I am now. It won’t go away.”
“So I won’t mention it again.” He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, put one in his mouth. “Do you use these?”
“Good heavens, no, and neither should you.”
He’d taken out his lighter and paused. She took it from him, tossed it into the water, and held out her hand, palm up, without a word. He hesitated, then passed the cigarette pack across. It followed the lighter into the Thames.
“Do you always get your own way?” he asked.
“When I’m in the right, I do. I insist on it.” She took his arm and walked him a little way along the jetty. “What’s the boat tied up there at the end?”
“An old riverboat, the Linda Jones, Harry’s pride and joy. He owns bigger boats that do the tourist runs and so on. He knows the Thames better than anyone—a river rat since childhood.”
“Well, let’s go and meet him, then,” she said, and they turned and walked toward the entrance of the pub.
Henri Legrande had kept the Citroën well back and he and Kelly sat there, waiting for Holley and Sara to go inside. When they had gone, he turned on the Citroën’s interior light and leafed through the file, paying particular attention to the photos.
“So here we are, Harry and Billy Salter, but perhaps there could be others in there with them,” he said, and he checked through all the photos again.
“So what do you want to do?” Kelly asked. “If Holley sees me, we’re done for. He knows me well.”
“But not me.” Henri smiled and closed the file. “A drink at the bar is called for. You keep your head down. I won’t be long.”
He turned off the interior light and walked to the entrance.
The bar was at least half full, certainly enough for him not to feel out of place. He recognized the Salters sitting in the corner booth and also their minders, standing behind them, Joe Baxter and Sam Hall. Sara was receiving considerable attention from the men, Holley watching.
The blond barmaid approached Henri and said, “And what can I do for you, dear?”
He’d been looking up at the bar shelves and said, “I see you have a bottle of Pernod there. I’ll have a large one.”
She reached up and took the bottle down. “It’s been up here for ever such a long time. Not even open. A funny-looking screw cap.” She tried it and