Дик Фрэнсис - Knock Down

I explained to Sophie that I had an appointment near Epsom.

‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait in the car while you do your business, and we can go on to my place after.’

A flicker of caution made me uneasy. ‘I’m going to see Vic Vincent,’ I said.

‘Is he likely to be as lethal as Fynedale?’

I smiled. ‘No.’

‘And don’t forget it was a good job I was with you at Ascot.’

‘I haven’t.’

‘Well, then.’

So I took her.

Crispin followed us out to the car. ‘I suppose you won’t be back till bloody morning,’ he said.

‘Whether I am or not, you’ll be all right.’

He looked at me in desperation. ‘You know I bloody won’t.’

‘You can be if you want to,’ I said persuasively.

‘Sod you, Jonah.’

He stood and watched us as I started the car and drove away. As usual he had made me feel a grinding guilt at leaving him to struggle alone. As usual I told myself that if he were ever to beat the drink he would have to stay off it when I wasn’t there. I simply couldn’t be beside him every minute of his life.

We drove towards Epsom. We were early, by design. Vic had said six o’clock, but I thought that a preliminary scout around might be prudent. The friend, whoever he was, had already sent a load of trouble my way, and I had a minimum of faith that all would henceforth be caviar and handshakes.

I drove fifty yards past the entrance to Vic’s drive, and pulled up on the grass verge with Sophie’s door pressed close against the hedge. I switched off the lights and turned to her.

‘When I go, lock my door behind me,’ I said. ‘And don’t get out of the car.’

‘Jonah... You really do think Vic might be lethal.’

‘Not Vic. But he might have someone else with him... I don’t know. Anyway, I’ll be much happier if I’m sure you’re sitting here snug and safe.’

‘But...’

‘No buts.’ I kissed her lightly. ‘I’ll be back in half an hour or so. If I’m not here by six thirty, drive on into Epsom and raise a posse.’

‘I don’t like it.’

‘Put the rug round you, or you’ll get cold.’

I slid out of the car and watched her lock the door. Waved. Smiled as if I were going to the circus. Went away.

The night was not pitch dark. Few nights are. My eyes adjusted to the dimness and I went quietly through the gateway and up alongside the drive, walking on the grass. I had worn for the occasion a black sweater and dark trousers, black rubber-soled shoes. I pulled a pair of gloves from my pocket and put them on. I had dark brown hair, which helped, and apart from the pale blob of my face I must have looked much at one with the shadows.

There were two cars outside the front of Vic’s house, both of them unfamiliar. A Ford Cortina and a Jaguar XJ 12.

I drifted round the house towards the pool, hoping and guessing that Vic used his office, as I did, as the natural place to take his friends. Most of the house was in darkness. Vic’s window shone with light. Round one, I thought.

Carefully I skirted the pool and approached under the protection of the dark overhang of the roof over the guest suite, keeping tight against the wall. Faint light from the sky raised a sheen on the unruffled pool water. There was no wind, no sound except from an occasional car on the road. I edged with caution closer.

Vic’s window was hung with thick fawn-coloured crusty net in clustered folds. I found that one could see a certain amount when trying to look through it straight ahead, but that slanting vision was impossible. It also seemed possible that as the curtaining was not opaque, anyone inside could see through it to someone moving about outside. Inconvenient for peeping Toms.

I crawled the last bit, feeling a fool. The window stretched down to within eighteen inches of the paving stone. By the time I reached the wall I was flat on my stomach.

Vic was walking around the room, talking. I risked raising my eyes over the level of the sill, but to little purpose. All I could clearly see was a bit of the table which stood near the window, and a distant piece of Florentine mirror. I shifted sideways a little and looked again. A sliver of bookcase and a chair leg. Another shift. More bookcase, and a quick impression of Vic moving.

His voice came through the glass whenever he walked near the window. I put my head down and listened to unconnected snatches.

‘...Polyprint and Nestegg... bloody dynamite...’

‘...what does it matter how he found out? How did you find out in the first place...’

‘...beating him up wouldn’t have worked either. I told you... burning his place hurt him more...’

‘...you can’t put pressure on a wife and children if he hasn’t got any...’

‘...brother... no good... just a lush...’

I shifted along on my stomach and looked again. Another uninformative slice of furnishings.

I couldn’t see who Vic was talking to nor hear the replies. The answering voice came to me only as a low rumble, like a bass drum played quietly. I realised in the end that its owner was sitting against the window wall but so far to the left that unless he moved I was not going to be able to see him from where I was. Never mind, I thought. I would see him face to face soon enough. Meanwhile I might as well learn as much as I could. There might be a gem for the bargaining session ahead.

‘...can’t see any other way out...’ Vic said.

The reply rumbled briefly.

Vic came suddenly close to the window. I buried my face and stretched my ears.

‘Look,’ he said. ‘I more or less promised him you would meet him.’

Rumble rumble, seemingly displeased.

‘Well I’m damn well not going inside just to save him from knowing who you are.’

Rumble rumble.

‘Damn right I’ll tell him.’

Rumble rumble rumble.

Vic hadn’t been exactly frank, I thought. He hadn’t told his rumble-voiced friend that I was due there at six o’clock. Vic was going to hand the friend to me on a plate whether the friend liked it or not. I smiled in the dark. Round two.

‘I don’t give a damn about your reputation,’ Vic said. ‘What’s so bloody marvellous about your reputation?’

A long rumble. Infuriating not to be able to hear.

Vic’s voice in reply sounded for the first time as if he were stifling doubts.

‘Of course I agree that business is founded on trust...’

Rumble rumble.

‘Well, it’s too bad because I’m not bloody going to jail to save your reputation, and that’s flat.’

Rumble.

Vic moved across the window from right to left, but I could still hear him clearly.

‘Where are you going?’ His voice suddenly rose sharply into anxiety. ‘What are you doing? No... No... My God... Wait...’ His voice went higher and louder. ‘Wait...’

The last time, he screamed it. ‘Wait...’

There was a sort of cough somewhere inside the room and something heavy fell against the window. I raised my head and froze in absolute horror.

Vic was leaning back against the glass. The net curtain all around him was bright scarlet.

While I watched he twisted on his feet and gripped hold of the curtain for support. On the front of his lilac shirt there was an irregular scarlet star.

He didn’t speak. His grip slackened on the curtains. I saw his eyes for a second as he fell.

They were dead.

Without conscious thought I got to my feet and sprinted round to the front of the house. It’s easy enough looking back to say that it was a mad thing to do. At the time all I thought was that Vic’s murdering friend would get clean away without me seeing who he was. All I thought was that I’d set Vic up to flush out the friend, and if I didn’t see who it was he would have died for nothing. The one thing I didn’t think was that if the friend saw me, he would simply shoot me too.