Dark Side of the Street - Jack Higgins [48]
"That will do nicely," Pentecost said and he moved round to face them, a slight smile on his face. "You know where you are?"
"I don't need any blueprint," Youngblood said.
Pentecost reached for a switch on the wall. There was a sudden roar and when he swung back one of the oven doors, they could see flames shooting from all sides of the brickwork through a heavy, armoured glass door.
"Ten minutes," he said. "That's all it takes and afterwards, a handful of ashes."
The girl gave a sudden desperate sob and half collapsed against Youngblood so that he had to catch her. Pentecost circled them warily and stood with his back to the stairs.
"This is what I call the full treatment," he said. "For most people it's a privilege that costs two hundred guineas. You're getting it for free."
Behind him Chavasse vaulted the rail, landing with a soft thud. Pentecost started to turn, but he was too late. Chavasse moved in fast, sliding an arm around the man's neck and wrenched the revolver from his grasp.
He staggered forward, gasping for breath as Chavasse released him with a shove and Youngblood swung him round, his face white with rage and fear.
"You bastard!" he said. "You dirty bastard!" He grabbed Pentecost by the shirtfront and hit him again and again in the face with his right, solid, heavy punches that drove him to his knees.
Chavasse forced his way in between them, pushing Youngblood back against the wall. "All right--that's enough. We want to talk to him!"
"You took your own sweet time getting here, didn't you?" Youngblood said furiously.
Chavasse ignored him. He heaved Pentecost to his feet and shoved him into a chair that stood beside a small deal table. Pentecost seemed completely dazed and wiped blood from his mouth mechanically with the back of one hand.
"My name's Drummond and this is Harry Youngblood," Chavasse said. "Perhaps you've heard of us?"
Pentecost nodded. "You're the two who escaped from Manningham hospital yesterday. I read about it in the paper."
"Were you expecting us?"
Pentecost hesitated and Youngblood took a step forward, right fist clenched. "Let me speak to him."
Pentecost shrank back defensively, one arm raised. "There's no need for that. I'll tell you anything you want to know."
Chavasse nodded to Youngblood. "All right, give him a chance." He repeated the question. "Were you expecting us?"
Pentecost shook his head. "I had a phone call this afternoon so I was expecting somebody. I didn't know it was going to be you two."
"Who gave you the order?"
"He calls himself Smith. That's all I know about him."
"Can you describe him?"
"Good looking, well spoken." He shrugged. "You'd think he was upper-crust until he starts to work."
Youngblood frowned across at Chavasse. "Mackenzie?
"It certainly sounds like it." Chavasse looked down at Pentecost again. "Are you expecting him?"
"He didn't say anything definite."
Youngblood had walked across to inspect the ovens and now he turned. "Do you treat everyone Smith sends you like this?"
Pentecost shook his head. "I pass most of them straight through."
Youngblood stared at him in genuine horror. "Most of them?" He turned to Chavasse. "For Christ's sake, find out what we have to know and let's get out of here. This bloke gives me the creeps."
"The people you passed on," Chavasse said. "What was their destination?"
Pentecost didn't even hesitate. "I used to leave them at a crossroads five miles from here. They were usually picked up by the same van."
"You stayed to watch?"
Pentecost nodded. "I wasn't supposed to know the destination, but I took the registration number and got a friend of mine with the right contacts to check it for me. The van belongs to a bloke