The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [34]
'So you got the truck back?' Marlowe said as he approached.
The Jamaican shook his head. 'Yes, but the load was missing when the police found it. Man, I feel real bad about this.'
Marlowe offered him a cigarette. 'Don't start blaming yourself. The same thing would have happened to me.'
'How's the old man?' Mac asked.
Marlowe struck a match on the wall and held it out to him. 'Not so good. He's taken it pretty hard, and on top of that his rheumatism's got worse. He's in bed.'
'This is going to break him,' Mac said bitterly. 'The dirty bastards.'
'Never mind about them at the moment,' Marlowe said. 'Tell me what happened.'
Mac spread his hands in a gesture of bewilderment. 'That's the crazy thing. Nothing happened. I'd been driving for about three hours when I came to this transport cafe near Peterborough. I parked alongside about fifteen other trucks, and went in and had a cup of tea and a sandwich. When I came out fifteen minutes later, the truck had gone.'
'What did you do then?'
'Got straight on to the local police. The sergeant who handled the case was a nice guy.' Mac laughed shortly. 'He told me it happens every night somewhere along the road.'
Marlowe nodded. 'He's right, it does. That's where O'Connor has been so clever. No hold-up, no coshing, nothing so dramatic. To the police it's just a routine job, and he knows we won't tell them any different.'
Mac nodded and sighed. 'They found the truck at ten o'clock this morning. It was parked up a side road about ten miles from the cafe.'
Marlowe leaned against the wall, his brow knitted in thought. After a while he said, 'Tell me, Mac, what other interests has O'Connor got besides the fruit-and-vegetable game?'
Mac shrugged. 'He has his own sand quarry. That does pretty well, and there's his haulage contract with the Coal Board. Mainly he does general trucking, I'd say.'
Marlowe shook his head impatiently. 'I don't mean his legitimate interests. What does he do under cover of darkness? Papa Magellan told me he had a pretty bad reputation during the war.'
Mac shook his head. 'I wouldn't know about that. I was only there for five or six weeks.' He frowned and narrowed his eyes. 'I'm pretty sure there's plenty of crooked work going on there, but nobody ever took me into their confidence.'
Marlowe was disappointed. 'That's a pity,' he said. 'I was hoping you might have known something.'
Mac suddenly brightened. 'Hey, wait a minute. There's the garage on the Birmingham road.'
Marlowe was immediately interested. 'On the Birmingham road?' he said. 'That's on the other side of Barford. What goes on there?'
'That's just the trouble,' Mac told him. 'I don't know. But it's something mighty peculiar. Only Monaghan and the hard boys were ever allowed up there. Once or twice they sent me up with messages from O'Connor and they never even let me through the doors.'
Marlowe's eye narrowed and he said softly, 'So they wouldn't let you see inside, eh?' He grinned and clapped the Jamaican on the back. 'I think we'll pay them a little visit this evening, Mac. What do you say?'
Mac grinned. 'Anything to get a crack in at those bastards is okay with me, boy.'
Marlowe grinned. 'That's fine. You'd better come in and have something to eat now.' As they walked towards the house he added, 'Whatever you do, don't tell the old man or Maria where we're going tonight. Especially Maria. Leave any explaining to me.'
Mac looked surprised, but nodded his head. 'Okay, boy, have it any way you want.'
Maria was in the kitchen when they went in. She looked tired and pale, and gave Mac a wan smile. 'I'm sure sorry about what's happened,' Mac told her.
She managed a smile. 'Don't blame yourself. We know it wasn't your fault.'
'Can I see your father?' the Jamaican asked her.
She sighed. 'He's pretty sick at the moment. The doctor's been to give him a check-up. He thinks he's got a touch of the