‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I could ask the same about you, my old duck. Bring the bottle of milk in from outside the door, or they’ll think the place hasn’t been burgled yet and break the door down.’
‘I’m asking you.’
He smiled. ‘Shall I explain, or would you like me to run you through with this kukri-type bread-knife?’
I took off my hat and coat. ‘If you’re a burglar I’d rather you emptied your pockets and got out.’
He stood and, to my surprise, offered his hand to shake, after he’d wiped it up and down his trousers. ‘You’ve got a lot of nice gew-gaws in here, but I wouldn’t touch anything, because I think you must be Michael’s father.’
‘And you,’ I said, ‘have been helping yourself to my food. It’s a good thing I caught you. I’d intended smearing it with poison.’
‘You wouldn’t do that to Dismal, would you? Listen, I owe you an explanation.’ He poured a glass of Nuits St Georges and went on eating. ‘Why don’t you get a plate, a glass and some eating-irons and join me?’
It’s no use saying I wasn’t intrigued.
‘My name’s Bill Straw, late staff sergeant, Sherwood Foresters. I’m here because I’m a friend of your son’s. I told him that the Green Toe Gang was out to cut my throat. So is Moggerhanger’s outfit, and Michael hid me in your rafters. It’s bloody cold up there, and a bit lonely at night, though your whisky was a help.’
‘Why didn’t you order half a ton of coal?’
He laughed, in such a way that I couldn’t doubt his good nature. ‘Next time I will. But seriously, my life’s not worth a light at the moment.’
‘And I thought I had bats in the belfry, hearing all that to-ing and fro-ing in the roof.’ The food was very good as well. He had boiled potatoes, cooked cannelloni, opened ham, laid out sausage, hacked various breads, and made a delicious salad. I was enjoying it more than any food for a long time. ‘You certainly know how to look after yourself.’
He rolled up a sheet of ham and threw it at Dismal. ‘I’d have made a special effort if I’d known you were coming back.’
‘And the wine’s good.’
‘Best I could find.’ He winked. ‘They didn’t call us the Sherwood Foragers for nothing. I was only going to stay a few more days. I didn’t want to impose on you.’
‘I’m glad I was made to help.’
‘As soon as I step outside I’m a goner. Though you never know: I might beat ’em yet. Life’s full of unpleasant surprises. I wouldn’t mind if only one gang was after me, but to have Moggerhanger’s Angels on my back as well is a bit rough.’
I poured a second tumbler of wine, and at his resentful glance put another out for him. ‘What do you know about Moggerhanger?’
He drained his glass. ‘Everything.’
‘Yes, but how much is everything?’
He crammed a potato into his mouth, but his speech was clear. ‘Let me put it this way: I’ve been involved in all his enterprises for the last fifteen years. There’s nothing I don’t know about Claud. I’m familiar with all his girlfriends, for a start. I’ve met his wife and daughter, and his son called Parkhurst who’s an even harder case than his father, except that he’s bone idle. I know all his clubs — and I mean all. You’d be surprised where some of ’em are.’ He leaned forward as if walls had ears: ‘Moggerhanger has houses from Carlisle to Thanet, from Berwick-on-Tweed to Black Torrington. I expect he’ll be training Michael to know where they are at the moment, making him a chauffeur-guide on how to get from one to another by minor roads so that anyone following would be lost within five miles — and there’s no such thing as traffic jams. All the places tend to be hidden and somewhat humble from the outside, and often they actually are, though one or two have concealed fall-out shelters, because Moggerhanger has contingency plans in case of a nuclear war to establish a regional seat of gangsterdom.’
As he talked, my pencil went over the paper like a hovercraft back and forth across the Channel on Bank Holiday.
‘These hide-outs are places he picked up for a few thousand in the sixties, before property shot up. At his London headquarters he’s got a map on his office wall with pins indicating their locations. I have a copy of it. But if you don’t mind, I’ve got to go now.’
He put on his jacket, and belched. ‘Thanks for everything. I’m glad to know that Michael’s got such a toff for a father, though we did meet briefly at Upper Mayhem, remember?’
‘What’s the hurry?’ I said. ‘You haven’t had your coffee yet. Nor your brandy. Or Cointreau, if you like. And I have some delicious Jamaican cigars. I had a box of Havanas, but you seem to have finished them. I think we ought to have a long talk about Lord Moggerhanger. I’d like to know what else you have to say on the matter. You strike me as being an observant and self-reliant kind of chap. I’d hate you to get killed when you go out on the street. Moggerhanger’s got stalkers everywhere. He’d be bound to know if you skedaddled from this well-stocked haven of refuge.’
I detected a waft of fear over his face as he caught my threat to betray him if he left. He was an unusual kind of chap. With a bit of polish he could pass himself off as a gentleman ranker. ‘I see what you mean.’ He reached for a box of handmade chocolates. ‘Dessert!’ he grinned. ‘You forgot that. Well, go and sort out your tape recorder, or whatever you use, and I’ll put the kettle on for coffee.’
I rubbed my hands. He would as good as write the Moggerhanger book for me, or a big slice of it.
Fourteen
I drove at dusk through the main gate of the Villa Moggerhanger, and didn’t feel very good when I looked in the mirror and saw it firmly shut behind me by the garage hand. I had left Dismal at Blaskin’s flat and Bill Straw wasn’t happy at having a competitor at the trough but, being man’s faithful friend, Dismal took obligingly to the parade-ground voice shouting for him to get down. I offered Bill the scraps of food left over from the journey, but he threw them into the trash can with a look of disgust, saying he was taking care of himself quite well, thank you very much, and in the meantime would I like another helping of Parma ham and melon?
On the way from Peppercorn Cottage I had mentally rehearsed leaping from the Rolls-Royce a score of times and fighting for my life, but once out of the car I knew I didn’t have a chance of saving myself. I was convinced the yard was empty, but no sooner did I open the car door than Jericho Jim, Kenny Dukes, Cottapilly and Pindarry came towards me. Lights shone from the house, and a set of more callous and incompetent faces I had never seen. And yet, apprehensive as I was, at least I had come back to base and knew I would a million times rather be there than in rat-infested Peppercorn Cottage. ‘I hope you’ve been good lads during my absence,’ I said.
‘The boss wants to see you,’ Kenny Dukes hissed. ‘I can’t think what for. Maybe he wants to give you a pat on the back.’
If there was something I couldn’t take it was the humour of those whose world view was narrower than my own. No retort would have been heavy enough to put him down, so I whistled a fancy tune while walking along the corridor to the door of Moggerhanger’s sanctum. Jericho Jim went in to announce me. The boss was smoking a cigar and, dressed in a pinstriped suit and sporting a white flower in his buttonhole, he looked as if about to go out and celebrate his silver wedding with Lady Moggerhanger and the rest of his family at the Kaibosh Restaurant. Cottapilly and Pindarry stood to either side of the door, as if the fools thought I would make a run for it, or plunge a knife into the boss’s fat gut. He came from behind the protection of his desk for a better look at me. ‘I’ve got fifteen minutes to hear your account of the trip. Let’s have it. But be brief. I want no lies and no trimmings.’