Peter O'Donnell - Cobra Trap

"No. She told Weng she was with Steve because he didn't want to leave her alone in the car. Somebody jostled her and Steve protested, saying she was blind. Then it happened. She could only hear it, of course." Modesty swallowed hard. "Oh Jesus, Willie."

With aching heart he recalled all that he knew of the Canadian girl with honeycoloured hair and a gentle nature who had come so strangely into his life. Since then he and Modesty had twice seen her face lethal danger with unfailing courage, and their affection for her was boundless. Willie imagined her listening helplessly in darkness, crying out, pleading in vain as the husband she loved was savagely beaten, and a wave of rage and nausea swept him.

As they emerged from the private lift into the penthouse foyer where Weng awaited them, Modesty said, "Do you know how Mrs Collier got him out of the pub and called an ambulance, Weng?"

"She did not say, Miss Blaise. I think she was finding it hard to speak. But she did manage to say that the pub was The Black Horse in Waverly Street. Professor Collier told her that, so he must have been conscious. Their car was parked about fifty yards from the pub, she said. If there is anything I can do, I should be most happy."

They had started to move towards the bedrooms, but now Modesty paused, thinking. After a moment or two she said, "Phone Inspector Brook and tell him what's happened. Say I'd be grateful for anything he might be able to tell me about The Black Horse. We'll leave in five minutes. I'll drop Mr Garvin off to pick up their car and follow me to the hospital. We've no keys but he can hotwire it. Make sure the guest bedroom is ready for Mrs Collier."

She looked at Willie. "I know how you feel, but don't go near that pub. Maybe this is a casual bit of violence but it feels like something more deliberate, so let's find out where we're at before we do anything about the bastard who did this." She turned to move on to her bedroom. "Then we'll do something about him, by God."

The young doctor looked tired and angry. "Two ribs cracked, damaged knee, query broken nose, heavy facial bruising, internal cuts to the cheeks from his own teeth, and an oldfashioned black eye." He grimaced. "The usual expert beatingup."

Modesty glanced at Willie, then returned to the doctor.

"Usual?"

He hesitated, then, "We get a casualty like this from The Black Horse every few weeks. Don't ever go in that pub unless you're one of their regulars."

Willie said, "You mean it's a gang job?"

"Oh, no. It's a crony job. There's a man called Pike, I don't know if it's a first name, surname or nickname, but he reigns in that area like one of the old Glasgow razorkings. The rest are bootlicking cronies. Maybe he runs some sort of protection racket, I don't know. I only know he likes to maintain a rule of fear… and we get the examples here as casualties."

Modesty said, "Does nobody ever bring charges?"

The young doctor laughed shortly. "He can always produce a dozen witnesses to swear he wasn't there, and anyway there's always a threat to the victim's womenfolk. I'll wager your unfortunate friend had a word or two whispered in his ear before he was dumped out on the pavement." The doctor squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "And there's that wife of his. Blind. Don't quote me, but I'd like to get a few volunteers from my rugby club and beat that bastard to a pulp." Bitterness infused his voice. "And you know what would happen? We'd all be charged, probably lose our jobs, have to pay compensation and Christ knows what else." He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I got a bit carried away. Will you be taking care of his wife?"

Modesty said, "Yes, we're close friends and she can stay with us."

"That's fine. We'll keep him in overnight but he'll probably be discharged tomorrow. Will she be able to look after him for a few days?"

"Yes," said Modesty, "but there's no need. They can both stay with me. Can we see him now?"

"No problem." The young doctor stood up. "I'm glad you'll be taking care of Mrs Collier. I only wish somebody would take care of that bloody man Pike. Excuse the language."

Modesty said, "That's all right. We feel much the same way."

Stephen Collier lay in bed in a small room. What could be seen of his face between bandages looked like a bruised plum. Dinah sat holding his hand, turning a tearstained face to the door as Modesty and Willie entered.

"It's us, Dinah."

"Hallo, honey." Her voice was croaky. "I'm sorry to drag you out." Modesty took her in her arms as she stood up, holding her close.

Collier surveyed them with his one good eye, then looked at Willie. "I'm not sorry about dragging you out," he said, articulating with difficulty. "I just hope you've missed your dinner. I can't stand people who aren't suffering when I am."

Willie hid a sigh of relief. "Is it worse than when Cetewayo clobbered you with 'is knobkerry?" he asked.

Dinah began to laugh and cry at the same time, then recovered herself and whispered an apology. Collier said, "Willie, I'd be vastly obliged if you'd take Dinah to the canteen or whatever they have here and buy her a cup of tea and a wagonwheel. This has been much tougher for her than for me, and you're good for her nerves. Tell her stories of your indecent past while I have a quick word with Modesty. Nothing special, but I know I'm going to be pestered about what happened and I'd like to get it over with and then go to sleep."

Dinah hesitated. Collier said, "Please, sweetheart."

Willie said, "Come on, love," and took her hand. "I'll throw in a packet of crisps if you're a good girl."

When the door closed after them Modesty took the chair where Dinah had been and said, "Go on, Steve."

"It was all such a shock," he said slowly, and there was no humour in his eye now. "We got lost in the East End. Stupid me. Went into this pub, The Black Horse. Took Dinah with me rather than leave her alone in the car. It was so weird, Modesty. There were about fourteen or fifteen men standing around or sitting with drinks. One barman, no women. And the moment we entered there was silence. Everything stopped. I moved up to the bar and said very amiably that we'd lost our way and could they tell me the best way to get to the M 11."

He closed his eye. She saw that his bandaged hand was shaking and took it gently in her own. "Take your time, Steve."

He nodded feebly, and after a moment continued. "Nobody answered. Then a man moved away from the bar and walked past Dinah. He was a biggish chap, square face, black hair cropped short, huge chest, very light on his feet. As he passed Dinah he jostled her with his shoulder so she almost fell. I said something like, "Please be careful, my wife is blind."

Collier drew a quivering breath, then winced, a hand to his ribs. "That was all I said, Modesty, and then he turned on me suddenly, raving at me. Insults. Abuse. Who the effing hell did I think I was? He'd bloody well teach me to give him his props—whatever that might mean."

"Proper respects. It's topthug talk. Go on, I've got the picture."

"Well, I tried to move past him to take Dinah out, and that's when he hit me the first time." Collier shook his head slowly. "I've never been really hit before. I was dazed, and I fell down. After that it's all a blur. He kept hitting me, kicking me sometimes, hauling me up and knocking me down again."

Collier stopped speaking and gazed into space as if mentally reliving those moments. When he went on, his voice was a whisper. "There were two terrible things. One was that the other men seemed to be… excited, stimulated. They watched, and giggled, and said approving things in a sycophantic sort of way. Nobody spoke a word of protest. But worse… far worse, I could hear Dinah calling out, begging them to stop what was happening. Begging the man to stop. She couldn't see, of course, but she didn't need to. God, I was so scared for her. I kept trying to call out to her to go. I thought this madman might turn on her, and I couldn't protect her…"