Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [21]
"You owe me for three weeks already," Youngblood said. "No more till you've paid something on account."
"Have a heart, Harry?" Brady grabbed his arm. "I haven't had a fag for two days. I'm going crazy."
"Don't kid yourself," Youngblood said coldy. "You're already there; they should have had you in for treatment years ago. Now clear off. You're bothering me."
With a man like Brady it didn't take much. Chavasse had moved to the end of the bench to get some rivets and as he turned, caught sight of Brady's face contorted with uncontrollable rage. He snatched up a rat's tail file, the end pointed, sharp as any stiletto and swung it above his head, ready to plunge it down into Youngblood's unprotected back.
There was no time for any warning and Chavasse snatched up a hammer and threw it with all his force. It caught Brady in the chest and he cried out in pain and dropped the file as he staggered back.
Youngblood swung around, taking in the file and the hammer, the expression on Brady's face and when he turned and glanced at Chavasse his eyes were like pieces of black stone.
He picked up the file and held it out. "This yours, Jack?"
Brady stood there staring at him, sweat on his face. Quite suddenly he grabbed the trolley and pushed it away hurriedly.
Work had not flagged, the noise had remained at the same level and yet there wasn't a man at that end of the room who had failed to note the incident and Chavasse was aware of two things. Youngblood's slight nod to Nevinson, a tall heavily built Scot on the other side of the room, and the approach of Meadows, one of the screws.
"What's going on here?" he demanded.
"Not a thing, Mr. Meadows, sir," Youngblood said. "We're all working like the clappers."
Meadows was young and not long out of the army, the dark smudge of moustache on his upper lip an indication of his desperate attempt to always appear older than he was. He turned to Chavasse who stood at the end of the bench, hands at his sides. Meadows had never risen above the rank of lance corporal and ex-captains fallen on hard times were meat and drink to him.
"And what the devil do you think you're supposed to be doing, Drummond?" he demanded. "I know the idea of soiling those lily-white hands of yours doesn't appeal, but work is the object of the exercise."
Youngblood moved in very close and said softly, "He is working, Mr. Meadows, sir. He's working very hard. Now why don't you go back to the other end of the room like a good little boy."
And Meadows took it, that was the important thing. His hesitation was only momentary, his face quite white and he was afraid, which was all that mattered.
From the other end of the room there came a sudden cry of agony. Meadows turned, glad of the excuse and hurried away. Everyone stopped working, all noise dying as the machines were switched off one-by-one. Nevinson appeared, walking close to the wall, wiping his hands on an oily rag.
"What happened, Jock?" Youngblood called.
"Jack Brady's just had a nasty accident," Nevinson said calmly. "Spilt a bucket of boiling water over his legs in the blacksmith's shop."
Youngblood shook his head as he glanced at Chavasse. "Now that was careless of him, wasn't it?"
Chavasse said nothing and moved forward with the others. Brady was groaning in agony and kept it up till the first aid men arrived and one of them gave him an injection. He lay there writhing, his great, ugly face soaked in sweat as they got him on to a stretcher. He moaned again and lost consciousness as they lifted him up, but it was difficult to feel any sort of compassion for him. He had broken the code of the society in which he lived and had received in return justice of a sort.
More screws had arrived, Atkinson among them and he rapped his staff on a bench. "Get back to work, all of you." He turned to Meadows. "I'll want a report on my desk in an hour, Mr. Meadows. I'll send someone to relieve you." He walked to the door and paused. "You can bring Drummond with you when you come--his sister's here to see him."
The last Thursday in every month was a general visiting