Gently 08 - Gently Go Man by Alan Hunter

Author:Alan Hunter
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781780331492
Publisher: Constable & Robinson
Published: 2011-07-30T23:00:00+00:00

The track bore to the right past the depression, or perhaps was joined by a second track. Neither track was distinct enough to suggest which way it was. But they rode away from the two firs at a right angle to their line of approach, the depression quickly melting back into the anonymity of the brecks. Deeming was humming to himself. It was a theme of Beethoven’s. He rode faster on this return leg, but still not very fast. The sun had strengthened as it began to set and was filling the hollows with slaty shadow. Some low mist was forming. It kept in the hollows.

Eventually the track become more regular and some low trees showed ahead of it, then they came up with a scrubby hedge, a bit of pasture, and a sheep-pen. The pasture showed more frequently. They passed a cottage with a smoking chimney. Just beyond it they went through a farmyard and through farm gates on to a narrow road. A mile further and they could see traffic passing on a hedgeless, straight, main road. It was the Norwich road. At the intersection a fingerpost said ‘Latchford 3’. Deeming turned his head, showing his teeth.

‘You’ll be back for tea, screw,’ he said. ‘You like it I break two minutes between here and town?’

He didn’t wait for an answer but wound the throttle three parts open. The machine soared off like a comet. They broke two minutes quite easily. Deeming tickered it in to Tony’s park where the other machines were still lined up, placed it precisely in the line, shut it down and dropped the rest. Bixley strutted out from the doorway, stood looking ugly with his swollen upper lip.

‘That was the coda, screw, that last bit,’ Deeming said, swinging his goggles. ‘Like I wanted you to have the full treatment, double-side L.P.’

His eyes were sparkling, he looked elated, he gave Bixley a flip on the shoulder.

‘The screw just loved it,’ he said. ‘The screw just loved every minute.’

‘Yuh, he must have done,’ Bixley said thickly.

‘Sure, he was crazy with it,’ Deeming said. ‘Like he would have gone on touching till we ran out of gas. You underestimate the screw, Sid. You underestimate him bad. But he’s wild there at the bottom of him, he’s a wild, way-out screw. And like you’d do well to remember that, Sid, if you have any deals with him. It’s crazy, the way he picks up tricks. You don’t fool him for five minutes.’

‘I’ll remember it,’ Bixley said.

‘Yeah, he’s mustard-sharp,’ Deeming said. ‘I wouldn’t try pulling the wool with this screw. He’s all round you. He digs everything.’

Gently took off the helmet and goggles, pulled his trousers out of his socks.

‘Thanks for the entertainment,’ he said. ‘It makes a change from dull routine.’

‘Any time,’ Deeming said. ‘We don’t like screws having it dull.’

‘Don’t misunderstand me,’ Gently said. ‘Murder can never really be dull.’

He unlocked the Rover, got in, lit his pipe. They watched him silently. He drove away.

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