The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [33]
Marlowe scrambled to his feet and leaned against the wall for a moment. After a while he turned and walked towards the door. Jenny was standing there looking at him, a strange expression in her eyes. 'My God, can't anyone get the better of you?' she said.
He ignored the remark and pushed her inside. 'You didn't phone the police did you?' She shook her head and he nodded. 'Good! Let me have a double brandy. When I've gone, phone your uncle and tell him what's happened. He'll have to come round to pick his boys up himself.'
She quickly poured brandy and handed him the glass. 'Are they all right?' she said, uncertainty in her voice.
He shrugged. 'That kind are always all right. If you mean have I killed any of them, the answer is no. Your uncle will have to get a doctor though, and the kind of doctor who handles cases like this doesn't come cheap.'
'Blacky Monaghan will kill you next time,' she said with conviction.
Marlowe shrugged and straightened his tie. 'A lot of people have tried to kill me,' he told her. 'I'm still here.'
'Your face is an awful mess,' she said. 'You'd better come into the bathroom and I'll fix it.'
He managed a grin. 'No thanks. O'Connor might have somebody waiting in there for me as well.' He leaned over and brushed her cheek. 'It's been nice, angel, but the party's over for now. I'd better get out of here. Give me five minutes and then phone him.'
As he passed through the courtyard, Paddy was beginning to moan and the third man sobbed steadily like a small child. Marlowe moved rapidly along the dark street. He was lucky. As he emerged into the square, a taxi crossed in front of him and he flagged it down.
He lay back against the upholstered seat and closed his eyes. He was tired, very tired and his body was a mass of bruises. Each time he breathed in, his chest hurt where Monaghan's boot had landed and he wondered if anything was broken. When he considered what had happened he realized that he had been expecting it all night. After all, Monaghan had given him fair warning. He and his friends must have planned the whole thing very carefully.
Marlowe twisted his face into a tired smile. At least he'd kept them busy for the evening while Mac was taking the stuff south. His plan had worked beautifully and he'd got to know Jenny O'Connor very well indeed. Taking it all in all, it had been a profitable evening, kicks and bruises notwithstanding.
He got out of the taxi at the gate and paid the man. For a moment he stood in the darkness listening to the sound of the engine dying away in the distance and then he turned and walked across the yard to the front door.
There was a light on in the kitchen, showing faintly through the crack under the door, and he groped his way towards it and turned the knob. Maria was sitting in an old rocking chair by the kitchen fire crying steadily. She raised a tear-stained face and gave a gasp of horror. 'Oh, Hugh, what have they done to you?'
In a moment she was across the room and in his arms. He held her close as sobs shook her small body and gently smoothed her hair. 'What is it, angel?' he said. 'There's nothing to worry about. They've only chipped the edges a little.'
She raised her face, swollen and puffed up with weeping and said brokenly, 'Mac telephoned through from a little place near Peterborough. He went into a roadside cafe for a cup of tea and when he came out someone had stolen the truck.' She shook her head helplessly from side to side. 'Don't you see what this means, Hugh? We're finished. There's nothing more we can do.'
As her body was shaken with fresh sobs Marlowe held her close and stared bitterly into space. He decided that if O'Connor had been in the room at that moment he would have killed him with his bare hands.
7
Mac returned in the late afternoon of the following day. Marlowe was working on one of the