The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [10]
Kennedy opened his mouth to speak and Marlowe smashed a fist into it. The tremendous force of the blow hurled Kennedy across the table. He gave a terrible groan and pulled himself up from the floor. Marlowe moved quickly around the table and grabbed him by the front of his jacket. 'You bastard!' he said. 'You dirty, lousy bastard.'
And then a mist came before his eyes and it wasn't Kennedy's face that he saw before him. It was another face. One that he hated with all his being and he began to beat Kennedy methodically, backwards and forwards across the face, with his right hand.
The girl screamed again, high and clear, 'No, Marlowe! No - you'll kill him!'
She was tugging at his arm, pleading frantically with him, and Marlowe stopped. He stood for a moment staring stupidly at Kennedy, fist raised, and then he gently pushed him back against the table.
He was trembling slightly and there was still that slight haze before his eyes, almost as if some of the fog had got into the room. He clenched his fists to try and steady the trembling and noticed that blood was trickling down his left sleeve again.
The girl released her hold on him. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I had to stop you. You would have killed him.'
Marlowe nodded slowly and passed a hand across his face. 'You did right. Sometimes I don't know when to stop and this rat isn't worth hanging for.'
He moved suddenly and grabbing Kennedy by the collar, propelled him roughly out of the room and into the hall. He pushed him through the porch and flung him against the van. 'If you've got any sense you'll get out of here while you've got a whole skin,' he said. I'll give you just five minutes to gather your wits.'
Kennedy was already fumbling for the handle of the van door as Marlowe turned and went back into the house.
3
When he went into the room there was no sign of Maria, but her father was busy at the sideboard with a bottle and a couple of glasses. His face split into a wide grin and he walked quickly across and handed Marlowe a glass. 'Brandy - the best in the house. I feel like a young man again.'
Marlowe swallowed the brandy gratefully and nodded towards the window as the engine of the van roared into life. 'That's the last you'll see of him.'
The old man shrugged and an ugly look came into his eyes. 'Who knows? Next time I'll be prepared. I'll stick a knife into his belly and argue afterwards.'
Maria came into the room, a basin of hot water in one hand and bandages and a towel in the other. She still looked white and shaken, but she managed a smile as she set the bowl down on the table. 'I'll have a look at that arm now,' she said.
Marlowe removed his raincoat and jacket and she gently sponged away congealed blood and pursed her lips. 'It doesn't look too good.' She shook her head and turned to her father. 'What do you think, Papa?'
Papa Magellan looked carefully at the wound and a sudden light flickered in his eyes. 'Pretty nasty. How did you say you got it, boy?'
Marlowe shrugged. 'Ripped it on a spike getting off a truck. I've been hitching my way from London.'
The old man nodded. 'A spike, eh?' A light smile touched his mouth. 'I don't think we need bother the doctor, Maria. Clean it up and bandage it well. It'll be fine inside a week.'
Maria still looked dubious and Marlowe said, 'He's right. You women make a fuss about every little scratch.' He laughed and fished for a cigarette with his right hand. 'I walked a hundred and fifty miles in Korea with a bullet in my thigh. I had to. There was no one available to take it out.'
She scowled and quick fury danced in her eyes. 'All right. We don't get the doctor. Have it your own way. I hope your arm poisons and falls off.'
He chuckled and she bent her head and went to work. Papa Magellan said, 'You were in Korea?' Marlowe nodded and