The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [38]
He ignored the mumbled words of thanks and pulled himself up into the cab of their own truck beside Mac, who was sitting behind the wheel with the engine ticking over. 'That was a pretty decent thing to do, man,' the Jamaican said as they moved away.
Marlowe shrugged. 'Mugs like Kennedy shouldn't be allowed out on their own.' He rested his head in the corner and closed his eyes, effectively cutting off any further attempts at conversation.
When they rolled into the farmyard half an hour later, Maria was in the act of walking towards the barn. She ran forward as Marlowe jumped to the ground. 'Where have you been?' she demanded. 'I've been worried sick.'
He ignored her question. 'How's your father?' he said.
'Much better this morning,' she told him. 'He's sitting up in bed asking for you. I didn't know what to tell him.'
She led the way indoors and they followed her upstairs to the old man's room. Papa Magellan was sitting up in bed with a woollen scarf around his neck. His half-finished breakfast was on a tray in front of him. His face lit up as Marlowe appeared in the doorway. 'Hugh, where have you been, boy? What have you been up to?' he demanded.
'They won't tell me anything,' Maria said.
Mac leaned against the door, and Marlowe unbuttoned his coat and took out the packet of five-pound notes. 'Your troubles are over, Papa,' he said, and tossed the packet on to the bed. 'There's two thousand quid in there.'
Maria gasped and put a hand to her throat, and her face went bone white. 'Hugh, what have you done?' she said fearfully.
The old man's face was puzzled. 'Where did this money come from?'
Marlowe shrugged. 'From O'Connor. We found out he runs a racket in cut liquor. Last night we delivered one of his loads for him in Liverpool. All the customer was interested in was getting the whisky. He gave us the money without a murmur.' He grinned. 'So there you are, Papa. No more troubles.'
The old man's face was stern. He said to the girl, 'Maria, bring me one of the large manila envelopes from the drawer over there.'
Maria did as she was told and handed him the envelope silently. 'Now give me a pen and some stamps,' he told her. Marlowe watched silently as the old man counted thirty notes out of the pile and put them on one side. 'I've taken a hundred and twenty pounds,' he said. 'That's what I reckon that load would have brought in London.'
Marlowe was amazed. 'You mean you're sending the rest of it back to O'Connor?' he cried. 'That's crazy.'
Papa Magellan shook his head. 'It's good sense. This is dirty money, wrongly come by. I've taken what I reckon O'Connor owes me. No more, no less.' He finished addressing the envelope and carefully stuck down the flap. When he had affixed the stamps he held the envelope out to Marlowe. 'I want you to post this.' For a moment Marlowe hesitated, and the old man said, 'Post it now.'
Marlowe sighed and took the envelope. 'All right, Papa. Have it your own way.'
He left the room without another word and went downstairs. The post box was several hundred yards down the road. It was an old-fashioned, rectangular box set in a rough stone wall with Queen Victoria's initials still engraved on it in wrought iron.
He stood in front of the box and hesitated for a moment, and then he slipped the letter into his inside breast pocket and retraced his steps to the house.
When he reached the gate Mac was leaning against the wall. There was a sombre expression on his face, and he said, 'You didn't post it, did you?'
Marlowe shook his head. 'No, it would have been a stupid thing to do.'
Mac sighed. 'I sure hope you know what you're doing, man,' he said, and followed Marlowe into the house.
Maria was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. When he entered the room she turned, an eager smile on her face, and said, 'You've posted it?'
Marlowe forced a smile to his lips. 'Yes, much against my better