A Magnum for Schneider by James Mitchell

Author:James Mitchell [Mitchell, James]
Language: eng
Format: azw
Publisher: Ostara Publishing
Published: 2013-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

HE went back to the Morris Minor. It was no surprise at all to see Meres waiting beside it. In this business people were always bobbing up unannounced. It was an occupational hazard, like being followed, or tortured – or shot. You learned to live with it. Callan walked up to Meres and let his face show nothing at all. Meres hadn’t surprised him, but he had annoyed him, and the annoyance was an irrelevance, or worse, a distraction. He detested Meres, and the detestation like any other emotion, had to be controlled or it slowed you up.

‘What a terrible motor car,’ said Meres.

There was nothing in that for Callan. He let it pass.

‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to ride in it,’ Meres continued. ‘Too ghastly.’

‘Who says you’re going to have to ride in it?’

‘Charlie. He wants to see you. Now. This very minute.’

‘In his office?’

‘Where else?’

Callan made no answer, unlocked the doors, and Meres settled gingerly in the front passenger seat, like a new yogi on his first bed of nails, thought Callan, and drove off carefully, mindful of policemen, a law-abiding citizen who wanted no trouble, not when he was carrying a kit of burglars’ tools and a magnum revolver. He drove across London from North to South, from the posh end to the dead end, from riches to rags, and finished up at last in the totty school playground. And all the way Meres had nagged him about his poverty, in that play-acting pansy-clever voice of his, and all the way Callan had driven in silence. Fighting with Meres was an irrelevance. Forget it. When they got out at last Meres stretched like a cat, and Callan was aware of the tremendous force in the slender body.

‘Thank goodness that’s over,’ said Meres. ‘I’d have been more comfortable on top of the corporation dustcart.’

Callan made one concession to irrelevance.

‘What’s the matter, Toby?’ he asked. ‘Won’t Hunter let you kill anybody?’

The threat came at once, and Callan was ready for it, hands loose, body relaxed, waiting for Meres to strike, and for a second Meres almost did let go, right there under Hunter’s eyes. Callan could see the enormous effort of will he had to exert to bring himself back from the madness, an exertion that left him shaking. At last, somehow, he managed a laugh.

‘Well well,’ said Meres. ‘I’d forgotten what a bitch you can be when you try.’

Callan went back to silence.

This time when they rang the bell Vic made no move to search him, or to examine the contents of his case. All he said was, ‘Charlie says wait in the gallery,’ and to the gallery they went. He came down to them almost at once, not hurrying; but not dawdling either. Hunter rarely played the superior keeping the minion in his place game, and when he did it always had a purpose. On the other hand he didn’t believe in hurrying either. Hurrying made for carelessness.

‘Wotcher, Charlie,’ said Callan.

Hunter ignored him and turned to Meres.

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