Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [1]
"That's what I'm counting on," Hoffa said and ignoring the expression of shocked amazement that appeared on the Irishman's face, he swung the hammer high above his head and brought it down again with unerring aim.
Hagen, the Principal Officer, stood by one of the Land-Rovers at the top of the dirt road that led into the quarry and smoked a cigarette, a black and tan Alsatian crouched at his feet. He was a tall heavily built man nearing retirement and a thirty year sentence spent at various of Her Majesty's Prisons had failed to erase an expression of natural kindliness from the pleasant bronzed face.
He watched Parker approach, aware from the set of the man's shoulders that something was wrong and sighed heavily. Amazing how difficult some people made it for themselves.
"What's wrong now?" he said as Parker joined him.
"Hoffa!" Parker slapped his staff hard against the palm of his left hand. "He really needles me, that one."
"What did he do?"
"Dumb insolence we'd have called it in the Guards."
"That's an Army charge--it won't wash here," Hagen pointed out.
"I know that only too damned well." Parker leaned against the bonnet of the Land-Rover, a muscle twitching in his right cheek. "It doesn't help matters when every con in the place treats him like Lord God Almighty."
"He's a big man in their book."
"Not in mine, he isn't. Just another cheap crook."
"Hardly that." Hagen laughed gently. "Nine hundred thousand quid is quite a bundle by anyone's standards and not a sou of it recovered--remember that."
"And what did it buy him?" Parker demanded. "Five years behind bars and another fifteen to go. That really must have taken genius."
"Poor old Ben." Hagen grinned. "He put too much trust in a woman. A lot of good men have made that mistake before him."
Parker exploded angrily. "Now you're sticking up for him for God's sake."
The smile was wiped from Hagen's face as if by an invisible hand and when he replied, there was steel in his voice. "Not exactly, but I do try to understand him which is a major part of my job.
Yours too, though that fact seems to have escaped your notice so far." Before the younger man could reply he glanced at his watch and added, "Three o'clock. We'll have them in for tea if you please, Mr. Parker."
He turned and walked a few paces away, the Alsatian at his heels and Parker stood there glaring after him. After a moment or two, he seemed to gain some sort of control, took his whistle from his pocket and blew a shrill blast.
Below in the quarry Hoffa dropped his hammer and O'Brien straightened. "Not before time," he said and picked up his shirt.
From all parts of the quarry prisoners converged on the track and climbed towards the Land-Rovers where Parker was waiting to dispense tea from an urn which stood in the back of one of the vehicles. Each man picked up a mug from a pile at one side and moved past him and Hagen and half a dozen other officers stood in a group lighting cigarettes
Hoffa took his tea, ignoring Parker completely, gazing towards the horizon where a couple of helicopters had swung into view. He moved to join O'Brien who was watching them intently.
"Now wouldn't it be the grand thing if they'd drop in kind of unexpected like and whisk us away," the Irishman observed.
Hoffa watched the helicopters drift across the distant hills and shook his head. "Not a chance, Paddy. They're Army Air Corps. Augusta-Bell scout 'copters. They only take the pilot and one passenger. You'd need something a little more substantial."
O'Brien swallowed some of his tea and made a wry face. "I wonder what they make it with--turpentine?"
Hoffa didn't reply. He watched the helicopters disappear over the horizon and turned to Hagen who stood a couple of yards away talking to another officer.
"Could I have the time, Mr. Hagen?"
"Thinking of going somewhere, Ben?" Hagen demanded good-humouredly and there was general laughter.
"You never know."
Hagen glanced at his watch. "Three-fifteen."
Hoffa nodded his thanks, gazed down at the contents of the enamel