The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [24]
The old man waved her to silence. 'Go on, son,' he told Marlowe.
Marlowe told them everything that had occurred. When he had finished Maria exploded with rage. 'Wait till I see Bill Johnson again,' she cried. 'I'll give him something to remember me by.'
Papa Magellan looked puzzled and there was pain on his face. 'Bill Johnson was a good boy,' he said. 'I don't understand. What can have happened to him?'
Marlowe shook his head impatiently. He held up his hand and rubbed his thumb across his index finger. 'Money, Papa. The only thing that really counts. With it, you're somebody. Without it, you're just nothing.'
'No!' Maria cried. 'I won't accept that. It isn't true.'
'For God's sake grow up,' Marlowe told her. 'Money means power. With it you can do anything. Money and fear. They have the greatest effect on men. Bill Johnson was weak and he was afraid. They threatened him and they offered him money. Of course he accepted.'
The old man sighed deeply and there was an air of hopelessness about him. 'What do we do now?' he asked. 'If we can't find a market we're finished.'
'You won't find one round here,' Marlowe told him forcibly. 'O'Connor only has to undercut your prices and he can afford to do that until you're broke.'
The old man managed a wry smile. 'And that won't take long, boy.'
There was a silence for a space before Maria said slowly, 'What about Birmingham? Why can't we take the stuff there?'
Marlowe shook his head, 'O'Connor has too many contacts. He could follow every move we made, undercut us at every turn.'
The old man nodded emphatically. 'Hugh is right, Maria. Birmingham is no good.'
Marlowe frowned as an idea suddenly came to him. 'What about London?' he said. 'Covent Garden. O'Connor is strictly a provincial. He can't throw much weight around there.'
Papa Magellan shook his head, 'It's too far.' Marlowe started to protest and the old man held up a hand. 'No, listen to me, son. Most of our produce is perishable. We're dealing in soft fruit a lot at the moment. It's got to be delivered first thing in the morning, so they can get it out to the shops fresh and in good condition.'
'Where's the problem?' Marlowe demanded. 'We drive to London through the night. It fits in beautifully. O'Connor won't even know what we're up to.'
Maria looked dubious. 'I don't know, Hugh, it's a long drive. Probably two hundred miles. You'd be taking on quite a job.'
Marlowe shrugged. 'What's two hundred miles. The roads will be empty. It'll be as easy as falling off a log.'
He looked from Maria to her father. The old man still looked uncertain and Marlowe said impatiently, 'For God's sake, Papa, this is your only chance. At least give it a try.'
The old man slapped a hand against his knee and stood up. 'By God, you're right,' he cried, eyes flashing. 'At least we'll go down fighting.' He took his jacket down from behind the door and pulled it on. 'We'll give that pig a run for his money yet.'
'Now where do you think you're going, Papa?' Maria demanded.
He held up his hand and his voice was stern. 'Maria, don't try to interfere. I'm going out in the other truck. I've got to make the rounds of the market gardeners to let them know we have things under control. Another thing, we need more produce. If Hugh is going to drive all the way to London we must make it worth while.'
'But your meal is nearly ready, Papa,' she told him. 'You can't go now.'
'So I have the meal when I come back,' he replied. 'Is that such a hardship when our livelihood is at stake?'
He walked out of the room and the front door closed with a bang. Marlowe laughed. 'The old boy's still got plenty of starch left in him,' he observed.
Maria nodded. 'Papa can be pretty determined when he gets set on a thing. He's twice the man O'Connor will ever be.'
There was an awkward silence for a few moments and Maria played nervously with her apron. Rain