Get Carter (26 page)

“Maybe you think I was one of them.”

“Why?”

Brumby shifted on the bed so that he was facing me.

“I had to do it,” he said. “But I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t know he was your brother.”

“What did you have to do, Cliff?”

“I told you earlier they were going to do for me. I had to find a way of doing for them first.”

I didn’t say anything. He turned away and was facing the wall again.

“I went through everything Glenda’d told me. About all the various operations they’re involved in. You know what they are. One in particular set me thinking. The films and the photos. The stuff they sell to the Fletchers.”

He paused in case I wanted to say anything but I didn’t.

“So where there’s that stuff, there’s pulling. And it always goes better when there’s young talent involved. The younger the better. No limit. But it’s dicey. You only have to pull one wrong bird once. Even certain scuffers I’m acquainted with couldn’t stop that one. That’s why Eric’s working up this way. He’s very good. Very safe. They’d have to be very unlucky to cop it with Eric handling that side of the business.”

“So you made them unlucky,” I said.

He nodded.

“There was nothing certain about it. There was only a chance it might work. But I had to try something. I asked Glenda if she’d been in anything with any young birds. She got hold of this one and I asked her if she knew the bird’s name. But she didn’t. So I went to see Albert. He told me who she was.”

“Did Glenda know what you were up to?”

“No, she never asks about things. She does as she’s told and that’s it.”

“So then what did you do, Cliff?”

“What?”

“When you found out who the girl was.”

“I did some checking up. Found out where she lived so I could find out what her folks were like. I had to know as much as I could about her folks because I was gambling on the kind of people they’d be. I mean, they could react two ways: they could beat the shit out of her and padlock her to the bed. They might even leave town. Most people’d keep something like that inside the family. On the other hand they might feel so outraged at what happened to their little girl that they’d want to nail the blokes that did it. Get the scuffers on to them. And the scuffers would have no choice. The papers’d be on to it like Jack Sharp. Things would have to be done. Topping jobs. Whoever it was.”

He stood up and went over to the dressing table and screwed his fag out.

“Only it didn’t work out. I mean, I was right about your brother. About what he’d do. But he was stupid. He didn’t go to the scuffers. He went to Eric instead.”

“How would he know Eric had owt to do with it?”

“Maybe he beat it out of Doreen.”

“Maybe,” I said.

There was a silence. Brumby stayed near the dressing table, watching me. Half his face reflected the light from the projector.

“So what are you going to do?” he said.

I said nothing.

“I mean, it’s Eric you want. Not me. I didn’t know it was your brother. I didn’t know it’d work out this way.”

I turned my head in Brumby’s direction and smiled.

“Don’t worry, Cliff,” I said. “You offered me a deal. I want Eric and you want Kinnear. I told you. I only wanted to know the full story.”

Brumby looked at me.

“So where’s the money?” I said.

“You’ll do it?”

“I’ve told you, don’t worry.”

He stood there for a few seconds and then very quickly walked out of the bedroom. I got up and followed him. He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge door. I stood in the doorway and watched him take the briefcase out of the fridge. Brumby straightened up and looked into my face.

“It was Glenda’s idea,” he said.

I didn’t say anything.

“About Glenda …” he said.

“I know as much as you,” I said. “I came back and chatted her up to see if she’d tell me what you wouldn’t. In the course of things she got randy and ran the movie. Then I thought I’d go and see Albert.”

“So you don’t know where she is?”

I spread my hands.

“I know as much as you,” I said.

He looked down at the briefcase and frowned, then began to walk towards the door. I stood back to let him pass. He paused in the doorway.

“Jack …” he said.

“Don’t worry, Cliff. You’re all right.”

He walked past me and went into the lounge and sat down on the divan and placed the briefcase on the table the way he’d done earlier. I sat down opposite him, just to complete the pattern.

He opened the briefcase.

“Listen,” he said. “With Kinnear out of the way, there’d be his machines. Maybe a few more bits and pieces. I couldn’t take them, not on my own. But with you, on a partners basis …”

“Look, Cliff,” I said. “Stop wasting your money on insurance. I don’t want you. I’ve told you, just the deal as before.”

Brumby breathed in and took out the two bundles of very new notes and put them on the table. I didn’t touch them. Brumby looked at me.

“And the rest,” I said.

Brumby carried on looking at me but his expression didn’t change. Eventually he slid his hand into the briefcase and laid two more bundles of the same size on the table. I smiled at him.

“Never sell yourself short, Cliff,” I said. “After all, it’s your life. You’ve only the one.”

Gradually he relaxed and let himself give some sort of a smile.

“So,” he said.

“Where’s Kinnear’s place?”

“Near Sowerby. He’s got an estate. It’s off the Doncaster Road.”

“I know. You go through Malton.”

“When will you do it? Tonight?”

“Maybe.”

“Kinnear’s got a party on. A weekend do. Supposed to look like a house party. Except it’s not. Glenda’s going. A few foreign clients. A few interesting diversions laid on. Down in the basement, like. He’s got it all kitted out down there.”

“I can imagine.”

“Perhaps that’s where Glenda is now,” he said, looking at me.

“Perhaps.”

He looked away.

“Well,” he said. “We may as well have a drink on it.”

“May as well.”

Brumby poured the scotch. We drank.

“To Kinnear,” I said.

Brumby poured some more.

“What will you do?” he said. “Let me know?”

“Maybe. It depends.”

“On what?”

“Things.”

We drank again. Brumby poured himself another. Very large.

“Not for me,” I said.

I stood up and Brumby finished his drink and stood up too.

“Anyway,” he said. “I suppose I’ll know soon enough.”

“I suppose you will.”

He clicked the briefcase shut and picked it up. I picked up the money and shoved it in my pockets. Brumby shrugged his overcoat closer round him and walked into the hall. The projector was still going full belt.

“Better shut it off,” I said.

I went into the bedroom. Before I switched the machine off I picked up the film and put it in its box and slipped it in my inside pocket.

Brumby was standing by the open door. I joined him and we went out into the grey day. Brumby closed the door behind us. There was no one else about. We walked towards the lift. The misty rain was dense enough to practically obscure the neighbouring blocks. Only dull lights spreading soft at the edges were evidence of the other flats.

As we walked along the balcony Brumby was talking to me about how glad he was that everything had finally worked out all right, how he’d been a bit worried about telling me what he knew, etc, etc. The cold air and the warm scotch had made him a bit light-headed. He was like a man talking to himself.

We stopped outside the lift. I pressed the button. Somewhere down below a door slid to.

I turned round. Brumby was standing behind me leaning on his elbows against the parapet. He was still talking about something or other. He looked very expansive with his coat undone and his casual sweater gleaming in the blueness. I walked towards him. He stopped talking in mid-sentence. He didn’t move. It was as though he’d turned to stone. Then his brain registered what I was going to do to him. His head jerked from side to side as he looked over his shoulder at the drop behind him. Then his head stopped jerking and he stared at me again and he knew that he
wasn’t going to be able to do a thing about it. I smiled at him and raised my arms to take hold of him.

Then the lift doors opened. There was a movement behind me and I automatically turned round and standing there staring at the pair of us was a woman in a headscarf carrying her Saturday afternoon shopping. The three of us stood there for a second, frozen in the blue afternoon light. But not for long. Brumby took off along the balcony towards the fire escape and the woman’s jaw dropped and I whirled round and set off after Brumby but my foot slipped on the balcony’s greasy surface and I went sprawling to the floor. I picked myself up but by now Brumby was on the fire escape taking the steps three at a time. The woman was still standing in the same position except her mouth was open a little bit wider. I began to rush along the balcony. Then I stopped. Something on the road beyond the green turf that surrounded the flats had caught my attention. Something white. Something with four wheels and moving very fast. Something with the word P
OLICE
on it. Glenda had obviously not been backward in coming forward.

I looked over the parapet. Brumby was on the last flight of the fire escape, still haring down, oblivious of everything except his fear. He was going so fast that when he hit solid ground he almost came a cropper. But not quite. He carried on running, not breaking his rhythm, taking a wide tack across the grass towards his Rover, his beautiful overcoat billowing out behind him. But the thing was that the police car was also making for the Rover, signifying interest by slowing down and then, as Brumby got closer to his car, the police car stopped abruptly, then started again at twice the speed and changed direction, mounting the curb and driving across the grass towards Brumby, who had changed direction too, but it wasn’t going to do him any good at all.

I turned and ran back to the lift. The woman was still standing there, her eyes watching me all the way into the lift. The only time I saw her move was as the door began
to close and it dawned on her that some of her shopping was still in the lift.

The lift started down and I took out a fag and lit up and then the lift stopped and the door slid open and I walked away in the opposite direction to the one Cliff had chosen, underneath the flats, towards the garages where my car was, not looking back, not needing to, knowing that they had probably met by now, that he was commanding their full attention, making it nice for me.

Well, I thought, that was one way.

I walked round to the driver’s side of the car and got in. I drove off and looked in my driving mirror. I took the first turning on my left and picked up speed but not too much. I didn’t have time to change cars.

I drove to a small post office I knew on the edge of town. It was closed but the lights were still on and I knew that all I’d have to do was to tap on the door.

I parked the car and walked across the road. In the window there were Christmas annuals and Dinky toys and games in big glossy boxes. Inside a woman of about fifty was sitting behind the grille on the post office side of the shop entering figures into an old fashioned ledger.

I tapped on the glass panel in the door. The woman looked up. I tapped again. Her lips moved. A man about the same age appeared from the back of the shop. He wore glasses and a brown cardigan. He walked over to the door. He didn’t look very happy.

“I’m sorry,” I mouthed through the glass. “I have to have some stamps. And an envelope.”

The man weighed me up. He looked at the woman. The woman was chewing the end of her biro. Eventually the man put the door on a chain and opened up.

“How many stamps?”

“About five bob’s worth.”

“What sort of envelope?”

“A stiff-backed one. About ten inches long.”

The man went away and got an envelope. The woman tore the stamps out of the book and the man picked them up on the way back.

“That’ll be five and ten,” he said.

I got my change out and counted out the right money and handed it through the gap. The man passed me the envelope and the stamps.

“Thanks very much,” I said.

“Sorry about the caution,” the man said. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

“You’re right,” I said. “You never know.”

I walked away from the door. I took out my biro and wrote a name and an address on the envelope and stuck the stamps down. Then I took the film out of my pocket and put it in the envelope and sealed it. I didn’t drop the envelope into the post box because I had to make a phone call first. There was a box on a grassy island in the middle of the road.

Inside the box I put the envelope on top of the phone book and lifted the receiver and asked the operator to get me Maurice’s number.

This time he was there.

“Maurice?”

“Yes.”

“What’s happened?”

“The worst.”

“Tell me.”

“Gerald. He got to Audrey.”

“Where is she?”

“Here.”

“How’s that?”

“Gerald did her at the house. Then he called Camm to fix her up there so she wouldn’t have to go in hospital.”

“And?”

“Gerald left Camm there on his own. Tommy and I got her out after Camm had treated her.”

“What’s she like?”

“A write-off.”

So that was that. Now there was Gerald as well as the others. Eventually Maurice said:

“Jack?”

“Yeah, listen. You get her out of it, right? Tomorrow, Monday, whenever she can be moved. Same plan. But get her away.”

“Right. What shall I tell her about you?”

“Nothing.”

“She’ll want to know. She might not go if I don’t tell her something.”

“All right. Tell her I’ll follow her next week. Tell her it’s taking longer than I thought. But make it sound good. Make her believe it’s the truth. Otherwise she won’t go and that won’t do.”

“Maybe you should talk to her. Later tonight.”

“No,” I said. “No, I don’t want to do that.”