The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [9]
She turned her head unexpectedly at one point and caught him looking at her. She smiled. 'You're a pretty big man, Mr Marlowe. How tall are you?'
Marlowe shrugged. 'I'm not sure. Around six-three, I think.'
She nodded, her eyes travelling over his massive frame. 'What kind of work are you looking for?'
He shrugged. 'Anything I can get, but driving is what I do best.'
There was a gleam of interest in her eyes. 'What kind of driving?'
'Any kind,' he said. 'Anything on wheels. I've driven the lot, from light vans to tank-transporters.'
'So! You were in the Army?' she said and her interest seemed to become even more pronounced.
Marlowe flicked his cigarette into the rain-filled gutter. 'Yes, I think you could say I was in the Army,' he said and there was a deadness in his voice.
She seemed to sense the change of mood and lapsed into silence. Marlowe walked moodily along beside her trying to think of something to say, but it was not necessary. They turned into a narrow lane and came to a five-barred gate which was standing open. She paused and said, 'Here we are.'
A gravel drive disappeared into the fog in front of them and Marlowe could make out the dim shape of a house. 'It looks like a pretty big place,' he said.
She nodded. 'It used to be a farmhouse. Now there's just a few acres of land. We run it as a market garden and fruit farm.'
He looked up into the rain. 'This kind of weather won't be doing you much good.'
She laughed. 'We haven't done too badly. We got nearly all the apples in last week and most of our other produce is under glass.'
A gust of wind lifted across the farmyard, rolling the fog in front of it, and exposed the house. It was an old, grey stone building, firmly rooted into the ground and weathered by the years. On one side of the yard there were several outbuildings and on the other, a large, red-roofed barn.
The front door was protected by an old-fashioned glass porch and outside it a small yellow van was parked. INTER-ALLIED TRADING CORPORATION - BARFORD, was printed on its side in neat black letters. Maria Magellan paused abruptly and there was something like fear on her face. She darted forward and entered the house.
Marlowe followed more slowly. He ducked slightly under the low lintel of the door and found himself in a wide, stone-flagged hall. The girl was standing outside a door on the left through which angry voices could be heard. She flung the door open and entered the room and Marlowe waited in the hall, hands thrust deep into his pockets, and watched.
Inside the room two men faced each other across a table. One of them was old with grizzled hair and a white moustache that stood out clearly against swarthy skin that was the colour of tanned leather.
The other was a much younger man, powerfully built with good shoulders. His face was twisted menacingly as he said, 'Listen you old fool. Either you come in with us or you go out of business. That's Mr O'Connor's last word.'
The old man's eyes darted fire and he slammed a hand hard against the table. His English was good but with a heavy accent and his voice was trembling with rage. 'Listen, Kennedy. You tell O'Connor this from me. Before he puts me out of business I put a knife into him. On my life I promise it.'
Kennedy laughed contemptuously. 'You bloody old fool,' he said. 'Mr O'Connor can stamp you into the dirt any time he wants. You're small stuff, Magellan.'
The old man gave a roar of anger and moved fast around the table. He swung hard with his right fist, but the years were against him. Kennedy blocked the punch with ease. He grabbed the old man by the shirt and started to beat him across the face with the flat of his hand. The girl screamed and ran forward, tearing at Kennedy with her fingers. He pushed her away with such force that she staggered across the room and lost her balance.
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