The chap who resembled Bill Straw tapped my second antagonist on the shoulder and, with some deft unarmed combat when he turned, snapped the monkey wrench away, then kicked the poor bloke square in the bollocks and, while he was doubled up in the kind of anguish I didn’t want to know about, gave an uppercut that flaked him clean out.
I had to concentrate on the no longer handsome features of the other, noticing for the first time that the scruff needed a shave. Not that I wasn’t getting blows back that I could hardly take. When hoping he wouldn’t have the stamina to go on much longer against those I was giving he staged a spectacular collapse because Bill — no more doubt it was he — gave a kick that brought him so quickly down I had to move away in case he dragged me to the ground with him. Pole-axed was hardly the word.
Bill held the monkey wrench over him who, fearing to lose what brains he had, pleaded that he’d had enough. I was too elated to speculate on how it was that the mate of my life had dropped from the sky, but my heart went cold and fearful when he took a gleaming cutthroat razor of the best Sheffield steel from the inside pocket of his jacket, and opened it with too much like alacrity. “It’s time I dealt with them properly, Michael, as such scum deserves. We must teach them a lesson.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I cried. “Don’t use that.”
Shades of disappointment and frustration crossed his clock. “I’m only going to put the frighteners on them so’s they won’t bother us anymore. You know I wouldn’t hurt a fly. It’s just not in me.”
“We don’t want the police involved,” I said, with what seemed my dying breath after all the exertion, and while getting my spine back to straight.
“They’ll only think it’s a bust up among a few savage Brits,” he grinned, wiping the weapon along his sleeve as if he’d used it already. “They must be used to that, at a hotel like this.” He shook the smaller one into opening his eyes, and the razor going close to his face proved he was English right enough: “No, mate, not that. Don’t do that. For fuck’s sake, please!”
“Got some manners, have you, tosh? Get up and walk, then get back to where you came from. If I see you around us making trouble again I’ll slice your privates off. And I mean it.” He winked at me as if to say he might not, slid the razor back to where I was glad to see it go, and came to the other man under my observation: “Get that hatchback out of here, before we trundle it into the briny. Hey, haven’t I seen you somewhere before? Of course I have. You’re one of Oscar Cross’s lot, you six-foot slab of jailbait. Just slive, off, and take Joe Tucklis with you. I know him, as well.”
As they struggled to get themselves back into the world according to Straw, he went to give their car a search, and I noticed him putting various articles into his pockets. Then he motioned them to come and drive away.
Walking to the hotel, he laughed at the red trickling from my nose and down my cheeks. “You look like Major Blaskin did the other day. Must run in the family. I’ll tell you about that later. But you shouldn’t have got into such an untenable situation back there, Michael. I’m surprised at you. I thought you had more experience.”
“Shut up,” I said, perhaps showing more anger than was warranted. “You aren’t writing another Sidney Blood.”
He laughed. “I might be soon enough. Major Blaskin’s always on at me to do him one or two. But is that all the thanks and appreciation I get for delivering you out of the shadow of the valley of death? Anyway, let’s get a wash and brush up so that we can have our little talk.”
A thousand bees seemed to have left their stings in my face, and trying to wash them away with a wet cloth hardly eased matters. I didn’t know whether to cry out as my body demanded, or faint and go flat on my face, which was called for just as urgently. In my room I taxed Bill about his thieving from the hatchback, and he showed me a sheaf of what looked like money from a monopoly game, as well as a smart little handgun. “They’ll know I’ve got it, which makes us safer than safe.”
“You can’t take it on the plane,” I said.
“Then I expect I’ll drop it somewhere by the roadside.”
I neither fainted nor fell flat, but with a towel around my neck sat by a forest of beer bottles at the waterside, hearing how it was that Bill had been on hand to save me from being pounded into a basket case, which is how I might have ended up for jacking their car off the road in Jugoslavia. I vowed never to get close to such a near run thing again.
He turned his shameless gaze on the woman of the couple at the next table, and I noticed that she was eyeing him as well. “I’d like to slip her a length,” he whispered, so loud I was sure she heard. “I always feel randy after a set-to like that.”
“If you try anything with her you’ll have another fight on your hands. She’s got a husband, you daft nit.”
“That’s not necessarily her fault. Things like that happen to a woman. Anyway, let’s talk about tomorrow. We’ll look at your instruction sheets, and I’ll follow you to Athens, to make sure you’re safe while you do the handover and stow whatever you’re to take home into the boot. Moggerhanger may have sent you on a forlorn hope, but he’ll be glad when you float the Roller between his gateposts playing ‘Lullabalero’ on the hooter. Take my word on it, he’ll reward you accordingly.”
The knocks I’d been dealt gave me gyp. “I’ll kill the bastard before he can reach for his wallet. He’s done this once too often. I’ve had enough of being the dupe of his forlorn hopes.”
He gave that wild Nottinghamshire hee-haw berserker laugh, as was usual on hearing such sentiments from someone he considered too naive to live. “Michael,”—he drained half a bottle by the spout, though his glass on the table was still three-quarters full — “life is one long forlorn hope, but it behoves us to keep smiling, and go on living come what may.”
“Bollocks,” seemed the only reasonable response.
“Granted, but watch your language. There’s a lady within earshot. The fact is, you’re nearing forty, and though you’re still undoubtedly in your prime, you must learn to act responsibly. Murder is not part of your experience, so don’t think about it. Lord Moggerhanger sent you to Greece because you were the only man of his who could do the job. You’ve still got to finish it, by the way, and come out in one piece. That you’d be crippled for life, or turned into peanut butter was neither here nor there to him. You may be a diversion in the whole scheme of things but he also wants you to bring back what he sent you for. When I drove up an hour ago you were doing quite well for yourself, in any case. Two onto one aren’t impossible odds. I’ve faced worse and come out all right. In fact for a moment or two I thought I’d let you get on with it alone and watch the fun, but when I saw Joe Tucklis pick up a monkey wrench I knew I had to step in, because he was about to do something which isn’t in the rule book. But murder Moggerhanger? You came out on top just now, so it would be a waste of resources to try and kill him. In any case, murder is serious, and you’ve got to remember the Good Book’s commandment: ‘Thou shalt not kill’, and never forget it. I only killed in the War, but that was for a righteous cause, and I’m glad it was, because I never had to feel guilty. Since then I’ve been in some tight corners, but I haven’t tried to kill, or wanted to. I’ve had to injure now and again to save myself, and I was careful to ration that.”
“Stop your preaching,” I broke in. “I’m angry at him, that’s all I know, and the fact that you wouldn’t be is neither here nor there.”