Dick Francis - Odds against

‘You couldn’t possibly tell,’ I protested.

‘I should have known better, after all these years. I think… perhaps I may not see so clearly… consequences, things like that.’ His voice died to a low, miserable murmur. ‘Because I gave the photographs to Hagbourne… you lost your hand.’

‘No,’ I said decisively. ‘It’s ridiculous to start blaming yourself for that. For heaven’s sake snap out of it. No one in the agency can afford to have you in this frame of mind. What are Dolly and Jack Copeland and Sammy and Chico and all the others to do if you don’t pick up the pieces?’

He didn’t answer.

‘My hand was useless, anyway,’ I said. ‘And if I’d been willing to give in to Kraye I needn’t have lost it. It had nothing whatever to do with you.’

He stood up.

‘You told Kraye a lot of lies,’ he said.

‘That’s right.’

‘But you wouldn’t lie to me.’

‘Naturally not.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Concentrate on it. It’ll come in time.’

‘You don’t show much respect for your elders.’

‘Not when they behave like bloody fools,’ I agreed dryly.

He blew down his nostrils, smouldering inwardly. But all he said was, ‘And you? Will you still work for me?’

‘It depends on you. I might kill us all next time.’

‘I’ll take the risk.’

‘All right then. Yes. But we haven’t finished this time, yet. Did Chico get the negatives?’

‘Yes. He had two sets of prints done this morning. One for him, and he gave me one to bring to you. He said you’d want them, but I didn’t think…’

‘But you did bring them?’ I urged.

‘Yes, they’re outside in my car. Are you sure…?’

‘For heaven’s sake,’ I said in exasperation. ‘I can hardly wait.’

By the following day I had acquired several more pillows, a bedside telephone, and a reputation for being a difficult patient.

The agency re-started work that morning, squeezing into Radnor’s own small house. Dolly rang to say it was absolute hell, there was only one telephone instead of thirty, the blitz spirit was fortunately in operation, not to worry about a thing, there was a new word going round the office, it was Halley-lujah, and goodbye, someone else’s turn now.

Chico rang a little later from a call box.

‘Sammy found that driver, Smith,’ he said. ‘He went to see him in Birmingham yesterday. Now that Kraye’s in jug Smith is willing to turn Queen’s evidence. He agreed that he did take two hundred and fifty quid, just for getting out of his cab, unclipping the chains when the tanker had gone over, and sitting on the side of the road moaning and putting on an act. Nice easy money.’

‘Good,’ I said.

‘But that’s not all. The peach of it is he still has the money, most of it, in a tin box, saving it for a deposit on a house. That’s what tempted him, apparently, needing money for a house. Anyway, Kraye paid him the second instalment in tenners, from one of the blocks you photographed in his case. Smith still has one of the actual tenners in the pictures. He agreed to part with that for evidence, but I can’t see anyone making him give the rest back, can you?’

‘Not exactly!’

‘So we’ve got Kraye nicely tied up on malicious damage.’

‘That’s terrific,’ I said. ‘What are they holding him on now?’

‘G.B.H. And the others for aiding and abetting.’

‘Consecutive sentences, I trust.’

‘You’ll be lucky.’

I sighed. ‘All the same, he still owns twenty-three per cent of Seabury’s shares.’

‘So he does,’ agreed Chico gloomily.

‘How bad exactly is the office?’ I asked.

‘They’re surveying it still. The outside walls look all right, it’s just a case of making sure. The inside was pretty well gutted.’

‘We could have a better lay-out,’ I said. ‘And a lift.’

‘So we could,’ he said happily. ‘And I’ll tell you something else which might interest you.’

‘What?’

‘The house next door is up for sale.’

I was asleep when Charles came in the afternoon, and he watched me wake up, which was a pity. The first few seconds of consciousness were always the worst: I had the usual hellish time, and when I opened my eyes, there he was.

‘Good God, Sid,’ he said in alarm. ‘Don’t they give you anything?’

I nodded, getting a firmer grip on things.

‘But with modern drugs, surely… I’m going to complain.’

‘No.’

‘But Sid…’

‘They do what they can, I promise you. Don’t look so upset. It’ll get better in a few days. Just now it’s a bore, that’s all… Tell me about Fred.’

Fred had already been at the house when the police guard arrived at Aynsford. Four policemen had gone there, and it took all four to hold him, with Charles going back and helping as well.

‘Did he do much damage?’ I asked. ‘Before the police got there?’

‘He was very methodical, and very quick. He had been right through my desk, and all the wardroom. Every envelope, folder and notebook had been ripped apart, and the debris was all in a heap, ready to be destroyed. He’d started on the dining-room when the police arrived. He was very violent. And they found a box of plastic explosive lying on the hall table, and some more out in the van.’ He paused. ‘What made you think he would come?’

‘They knew I took the photographs at Aynsford, but how would they know I got them developed in London? I was afraid they might think I’d had them done locally, and that they’d think you’d know where the negatives were, as it was you who inveigled Kraye down there in the first place.’

He smiled mischievously. ‘Will you come to Aynsford for a few days when you get out of here?’

‘I’ve heard that somewhere before,’ I said. ‘No thanks.’

‘No more Krayes,’ he promised. ‘Just a rest.’

‘I’d like to, but there won’t be time. The agency is in a dicky state. And I’ve just been doing to my boss what you did to me at Aynsford.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Kicking him out of depression into action.’

His smile twisted in amusement.

‘Do you know how old he is?’ I said.

‘About seventy, why?’

I was surprised. ‘I’d no idea he was that age, until he told me yesterday.’

Charles squinted at the tip of his cigar. He said, ‘You always thought I asked him to give you a job, didn’t you? And guaranteed your wages.’

I made a face at him, embarrassed.

‘You may care to know it wasn’t like that at all. I didn’t know him personally, only by name. He sought me out one day in the club and asked me if I thought you’d be any good at working with him. I said yes, I thought you would. Given time.’

‘I don’t believe it.’

He smiled. ‘I told him you played a fair game of chess. Also that you had become a jockey simply through circumstances, because you were small and your mother died, and that you could probably succeed at something else just as easily. He said that from what he’d seen of you racing you were the sort of chap he needed. He told me then how old he was. That’s all. Nothing else. Just how old he was. But we both understood what he was saying.’

‘I nearly threw it away,’ I said. ‘If it hadn’t been for you…’

‘Oh yes,’ he said wryly. ‘You have a lot to thank me for. A lot.’

Before he went I asked him to look at the photographs, but he studied them one by one and handed them back shaking his head.

Chief-Inspector Cornish rang up to tell me Fred was not only in the bag but sewn up.

‘The bullets match all right. He drew the same gun on the men who arrested him, but one of them fortunately threw a vase at him and knocked it out of his hand before he could shoot.’