The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [16]
Maria was crying softly, her head shaking from side to side. 'No more. Please, no more.'
Marlowe ignored her and went on. 'And what have I learned from all this? I'll tell you. It's quite simple really.' He raised a clenched fist. 'This! This is what counts. The boot and the fist. I've been shoved around by someone or other all my life. My father, Captain Li, O'Connor, or Monaghan. They're all the same breed, and they can only be handled in one way.'
She turned away blindly, and Magellan moved forward and put a hand on Marlowe's arm. There was a great pity in his face. 'I know what it's like to have a devil on your shoulder, but he's the one you've got to fight. Not the rest of the world.'
Marlowe nodded wearily. 'I think I'll have that bath now, Papa. I could do with it.'
He moved forward and paused, one foot on the bottom stair. 'Another thing, Papa. That job you were talking about. If it's still open I'll take it. O'Connor is beginning to annoy me. He reminds me of someone I once knew.'
The old man smiled, his whole face coming alive, and he nodded. 'That's fine, son. You go and have that bath and we'll talk about it afterwards.'
Marlowe turned and started to climb the stairs. His whole body was full of an inexpressible weariness. Already he was beginning to regret his decision, but he was committed to it. Whatever happened now he would not go back on his given word. He felt as if some strong force had him in its grip and was bearing him swiftly along to an unknown destination.
He shrugged and a half-smile came to his mouth. What the hell. He wasn't scared of O'Connor or Monaghan or any of them. His smile changed into a wide grin as he went into the bathroom. He felt almost sorry for O'Connor. He was certainly in for a hell of a surprise.
4
The morning was cold with no rain, and a trace of mist hung over the fields behind the house as Marlowe crossed the yard towards the old barn. He could hear voices inside, and he paused for a moment on the threshold to light a cigarette before going in.
Cold, clammy air enveloped him like a shroud, and he shivered. The place was brightly illuminated by several bulbs strung from an electric cable, and Maria Magellan and an old man were busy loading boxes and sacks on to a Bedford three-ton truck which stood in the centre of the barn. Two more were parked in the shadows down at the far end.
As he moved forward the girl turned quickly. 'Good morning,' she said.
'It's like an ice-box in here,' Marlowe told her.
She shrugged. 'The walls are three feet thick. Just what we need to store fruit.' She moved towards a table that stood against the wall and lifted a metal pot from a small electric stove. 'Coffee?'
He nodded briefly. 'Where's your father this morning?'
'In bed.' She made a tiny grimace. 'Rheumatism, and he isn't very pleased about it. He gets an attack now and then when the weather turns damp. I'll probably have to lock his door to keep him inside.'
He drank some of the scalding black coffee and grunted with pleasure as its warmth moved through him. He nodded towards the truck and the old man, still busy loading boxes. 'You keep early hours.'
'You have to in this game if you want to make a living,' she said.
'You should have awakened me and I'd have given you a hand,' he told her.
'Oh, don't worry,' she said. 'I shall do another morning. Just breaking you in gently.'
The old man approached, his gnarled hand busy with a pipe and tobacco pouch. He was wearing a greasy corduroy cap and an ancient patched suit. He looked seventy at least. 'That's the lot, Miss Maria,' he said in a cracked voice. 'I'll go over to the greenhouse now.'
Maria smiled warmly. 'All right, Dobie. Breakfast at nine.' He turned to go and she added quickly, 'Oh, Dobie, this is Hugh Marlowe. He's going to drive for us.'
The old man looked at Marlowe with vacant, watery eyes and nodded. Then he turned away, lighting his pipe as he went, and disappeared into the grey morning.
'Is he much use?' Marlowe asked. 'He looked pretty old to be still doing a day's work.'
Maria