Part 18 (2/2)

'Came to say I'm sorry,' said George. 'For this morning, you know ... the misunderstanding ...'

'Like when you tried to kill me, you mean?' said Joe.

'Hey, no, I was never gonna let you go,' said the boxer earnestly. 'Just give you a fright, shake the truth out of you.' 'And now you know the truth?'

'Yeah. That Beryl girl, she convinced me. Then when I saw Eloise later at the garage ... well, she really bad-mouthed me for even dreaming she'd pick you over me-no disrespect meant, man ...'

'None taken,' Joe a.s.sured him, feeling better by the second. 'So things are OK between you two?'

'Just great!' said George, his face lighting up. 'But she says I gotta apologize to you, which I want to do anyways. So I come round here and there you are getting into the lift, only you don't wait. So I come up after you and I reach your door and I hear this noise of yelling inside. First, I think maybe you and your girl are having a domestic, then you start screaming and I know it ain't no family row. So I push open the door and there's you hanging over the balcony and this guy pummelling you and trying to pull your goolies off. So I give him a tap and he hits the deck, and I'm just going to make sure he don't get up again when I notice you're slipping away. So I've got to grab you and meanwhile the guy has got to his feet and hightailed it out of the door. Sorry about that, Joe, should have hit him harder, then he'd still be here for you to give him a kicking.'

'George, don't be sorry, you made the right decision and I'm truly grateful.'

'That's OK. You must be really burning up, this pack's beginning to thaw. Think I saw some prawns in the freezer, how about I try them?'

It occurred to Joe that lovely little Mimi, who'd jumped to the wrong conclusions this morning when she burst in on him standing starkers over a nurse with her legs in the air, would really mark him down as a Number One weirdo if she could see him now having his crotch ma.s.saged by Jura.s.sic with a packet of broccoli.

He took control of the pack himself and said, 'No thanks, George, this will be fine.'

But the thought of Mimi brought to mind the conversation he'd just had with her on the phone. King Rat knew he hadn't gone to Spain. Didn't need a Sudoku whiz to work out it must have been Colin Rowe who told him.

And what was King's likely reaction ...?

'George, my friend, this guy trying to kill me, you get a good look at him?'

'Yeah. Didn't know him, but I'll know him again. Real mean-looking b.a.s.t.a.r.d, got them hard eyes, know what I'm saying? Like some guys in the ring who try to stare you down while the ref's doing the intro. Me, I let my fists do the fighting. What you been doing, Joe, to get him so p.i.s.sed with you?'

'Don't think it was him that was p.i.s.sed,' said Joe.

Had to be Hardman, the Rat's personal minder, who'd been sent round to take care of him. Not kill him, which was a small comfort. Getting knocked about a bit was regarded as an occupational hazard for a PI. Indeed, Joe had heard Sergeant Chivers, his arch-enemy in Luton's Finest, opine that a day in which Sixsmith got a good kicking could never be said to have been altogether wasted. But not even Chivers would have been able to turn a blind eye if Joe's body had been found splattered on the paving stones under the Ra.s.selas tower. No, Hardman's mission had been to put him out of the picture by terrifying and disabling him.

Which he'd got at least half right. But what he'd also done was confirm that King Rat was definitely involved, and the only thing that got the Rat's nose twitching was the ripe smell of filthy lucre. Lots and lots of it. A multimillion deal. Which, together with Mimi's hint that something big was brewing between ProtoVision and the supermarket chain, put Wright-Price in the frame, dead centre.

It was beginning to look like Butcher's obsessive belief that Sir Monty was involved was more than just political prejudice.

But Joe found it hard to accept that a man so selflessly devoted to the wellbeing of Luton City FC could be party to any form of physical violence that took place off the field. He was ruthless in business, yes. He would cut so many corners in a deal he could turn a polygon into a straight line. But he was at heart a sportsman. Would he underwrite beating up a fellow Luton fan? Or framing an honest golfer for cheating?

Joe found it hard to believe. Which meant nothing. He'd been absolutely certain the Lutes were going to stuff Spurs last time they went to White Hart Lane, and look what happened then.

But he only knew one way to find out.

With a sigh, he started to push himself upright.

'Hey, you take it easy now,' advised George. 'You want I should call that girl of yours? She's a nurse, right? Maybe she could give you a ma.s.sage or something.'

'Think that would probably finish me off right now, George,' he said. 'Look, I got things to do. Thanks a bunch for helping me out here. Don't know what I'd have done else. Except maybe die.'

'My pleasure,' said the big boxer. 'Listen, man, you get any more trouble, you give me a call, right?'

'You'll be first on my wish-list,' Joe a.s.sured him.

As George left, he paused and looked at the splintered door frame.

'Sorry about that,' he said. 'You'd best get that fixed afore some of them Hermsp.r.o.ng brothers come across to borrow your TV and hi-fi. You got anyone you can ring?'

'Yeah, but it will probably be the weekend before he gets here.'

'Then leave it to me. I know this guy owes me a favour. He'll be round this afternoon, right?'

'Right,' said Joe, thinking, the Prince of Wales would probably be round this afternoon if Jura.s.sic George asked him. 'Tell him I'll leave the door open.'

It took George a full thirty seconds to work this one out, but when he did, he really appreciated it, and Joe heard his deep ba.s.s laugh echoing all the way down the corridor.

When it died away, he felt suddenly lonely.

In the bedroom he stripped naked and examined his a.s.saulted parts in a mirror. Apart from being a rather fetching shade of red and feeling very tender, no real damage seemed to have been done, and five minutes under an icy shower completed the good work begun by the frozen broccoli. He got dressed in his loosest fitting boxers and slacks and gingerly made his way down to the Morris.

The Right Price.

Ten minutes later he was walking into the Supporters' Club. He met Larry Hardwick and one of his staff coming out of the kitchen bearing trays of beer and sandwiches.

'Those for the directors?' Joe asked.

He knew a meeting was scheduled for today.

'Yeah, they just rang down. Must have a lot to talk about.'

'Give Sir Monty a message, will you, Larry? Tell him I'd appreciate a quick word.'

'Now, you mean?' Hardwick looked at him. 'Joe, personally I'd walk a hundred miles for one of your smiles, but I don't think even your rendition of ”Mammy” is going to get Sir Monty out of his meeting.'

'Tenner says you're wrong, Larry,' said Joe.

'You're on.'

Joe sat down at the big corner table and hoped he was going to have to pay up. If Monty Wright appeared, it had to mean he really was involved.

A couple of minutes pa.s.sed. Then the door opened and the club chairman came in.

He made straight for Joe's table and sat down heavily. He carried too much weight, most of it round his waist, and his round face was flushed.

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