Maurice Procter - Two men in twenty

'I had a bit of bad luck yesterday afternoon,' he lied in an unworried voice. 'I overran a red light by about half a yard. The bogey there didn't report me, but he wanted to see my licence and insurance. I said I'd left 'em in my other suit, so he gave me one of those little chits to produce 'em within five days or else.'

'I suppose you gave him your proper name,' said Coggan with a grin.

'Oh sure. William Brown, of Ashton-under-Lyne, but not a native. Good old Bill Brown.'

'After five days they'll contact Ashton-under-Lyne,' said France. 'Then they'll start looking for the car.'

'Correct. I'll have to take it to the Smoke and flog it. I can get another off Archie.'

'London?' came Dorrie's suddenly animated voice from the kitchen. 'I'll go with you.'

'Me too,' said Flo as she served roast beef. 'Try and stop me!'

Cain considered the matter. 'All right,' he said. 'We'll set off as soon as we're ready. A day or two in London won't hurt. Will you boys be able to manage your meals?'

'Easy,' said Husker with unusual generosity. 'I can live on fish an' chips for a couple of days. It's a long while since I had fish an' chips.'

The others nodded. Cain said: 'You'll behave, mind you. Don't do nothing silly. It's not much longer, you know.'

'I need to go to London, too,' France said. 'Could I ride down with you?'

Everyone looked at him. Cain said: 'What's on your mind? You wanting to slip away?'

'Not yet,' was the easy reply. 'If I don't go with you, I'll have to go on the train. I've accumulated too much cash here. It wants puttin' away. Don't worry. I'll be back before you are.'

Cain thought for a moment. It became obvious to him, and to everyone present, that if France wanted to desert he would do so when he pleased, without subterfuge.

So, after the meal, France set out with Cain and his womenfolk on the two-hundred-mile drive to London. Cain insisted that Dorrie should take a back seat, and sit well down in the corner until the car was out of Granchester. Flo wanted a front seat, and France agreed that she should sit with Cain while he sat with Dorrie. While Cain waited at some traffic lights in the city, he put the car into neutral gear and rested a heavy hand on Flo's thigh. She did not try to remove the hand.

In the back seat, France kept his hands to himself. But, after Granchester was left behind and Dorrie was at ease, the warmth of her presence filled him with peace, and her simple friendliness was a benison.

In London, France asked to be put down in the Edgware Road not far from Marble Arch. After that Cain dropped the two girls in Coventry Street, with instructions to have a meal somewhere and meet him in an hour and a half at a certain public house in Charing Cross Road. Then he drove eastward and across the river to Bermondsey, to Archie Ransom's place. Though it was Sunday evening, somebody would be there. Always there was somebody at Archie's.

He left the car some distance from the place, and he approached with care, because one never knew when the police might decide to do something about Archie. He looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock in the evening of a day which had been heavily overcast, and now it was almost dark. All seemed to be well: no loiterers, no lurking figures in the shadows. The big main door of Archie's front place was closed, but there was a small door which was not locked. Cain opened it, and slipped into a dark interior. About him was the smell of cars, and the dimly seen shapes of them. He walked among them, towards the faint light in Archie's office. As he drew near he saw that the door was open, but there was no sound of talk or movement. Indeed the whole place was silent. If he had not known that men might be working somewhere, away back behind soundproofed walls, the possibility would never have occurred to him. He coughed to give warning of his approach.

Standing in the doorway of the shabby little office-Archie could disguise affluence as cleverly as he could disguise cars-he looked down at a sturdy frog-like man sitting knees-apart feet-together on a stool at a table, dealing out four hands of five cards in a game of Nap with himself. The man's prominent eyes moved to look at the visitor, but his quick, grubby hands did not pause in the dealing.

'Hello, Bert,' Cain said.

' 'Lo, Howie.'

'Where's Archie?'

'Not here.'

'I can see that. You don't seem awful busy.'

'No, I'm not busy.' Bert turned over the twenty cards to see what hands he had dealt. 'Look at that,' he said. 'King and four spades in one hand. Ace, queen, rag in another. It just shows you can never be certain.'

'Isn't anybody working?' Cain persisted.

'You don't see anybody, do you? Only right stuff gets done here.'

'Since when?'

'You'll have to ask Archie.'

'I'll have to find him first, won't I?'

'You know the Flying Horse along the road?'

' 'Course I do.'

'Ah, you would,' said Bert. He had picked up the cards and shuffled them. Now he began to deal again. The audience was ended.

'So long, Bert,' said Cain, as he turned away.

'So long, Howie,' the man replied. Then his hands ceased to move. He sat still, listening, and heard the well-known thud of the outer door as it was closed. Putting down the cards he turned to the desk which was in reach behind him. He picked up the telephone and dialled, and spoke to Archie and told him that Howie Cain had dropped in, and had gone to the Flying Horse. That was his purpose in being there, to tell Archie who dropped in.

Archie was not in any of the public rooms at the Flying Horse, so Cain ordered a drink at the bar, and waited. After a fashion, he and Archie had been friends for years. In due time, Archie would arrive.

Five minutes later, the landlord of the place came and spoke to Cain. 'Are you waiting for someone?' he asked.

'Yes.'

'Is your name Howie?'

'Yes.'

'Telephone,' the man said, with a movement of his head towards the instrument on the end of the bar.

It was Archie. 'Come down here to the Roebuck,' he said. 'Use the back door. There's a little snug behind the bar.'

Wondering a little, Cain went to the Roebuck. He knew that Archie was a careful man, but all this business of dodging from pub to pub seemed to be rather unnecessary. Of course, there was always the possibility that he was being extra careful because one of his boys had run into trouble.

Archie was alone in the snug at the Roebuck, sitting facing the window. Cain sat down beside him. 'How's things with you?' he asked.

'Fine,' said Archie, watching the window. It was curtainless, but it had frosted glass up to a height of six feet or so.

'What's all this runaround?' Cain wanted to know.

Still staring at the window, the other man said: 'Hush.' Then a hand could be seen through the clear part of the window. It waved twice, giving the 'all clear' signal.

Archie relaxed, and turned to look at Cain. He raised the glass of whisky he was holding, and sipped. Cain looked at the whisky.

'No,' said Archie. 'You don't need one. You weren't tailed here, and nobody but a friend of mine saw you come in. You'll go out the same way. There's no need for anybody in this place to see you at all.'

'Hey, what is all this?'

'What have you been doing, Howie?'

'Resting. In the country. Why?'

'This last day or two the C.I.D. boys have been asking about you. Quiet, like. Just a word or two, tactful like an elephant. But they're asking everywhere . They really want to know if you're in town.'

Cain was appalled, but he grinned hardily. 'They got nothing on me,' he said. 'I dare walk into Scotland Yard this minute, only it's a bit out of my way.'

'What have you been doing, Howie?'

'Now then, Archie. You know I don't go in for publicity.'