The Fall Guy by Ritchie Perry

Author:Ritchie Perry [Perry, Ritchie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

When I went downstairs again I was in a nasty mood. So far Biddencourt and company had had plenty of opportunity to show how rough they could play, now I intended to prove that anything they did I could do better. For the moment, however, Lydia was my primary concern. I’d left her on the bed, wrapped in every blanket I’d been able to lay hands on, and I intended to do what little else I could for her before I had my heart to heart chat with Joao.

Evidently I must have hit him a lot harder than I’d thought because he was still unconscious when I returned to the kitchen, his breathing as healthy as could be expected from someone with a broken nose. Once I’d brewed a pot of coffee I returned to Lydia and managed to force three heavily sweetened cups of this down her throat, the limit of my medical usefulness. Whether or not the coffee did her any good was a moot point but when I left her Lydia was asleep and her breathing seemed to be easier.

In the kitchen Joao was showing no immediate signs of waking up so, to fill in time, I set about patching myself up, making the best use I could of a rudimentary medicine chest I found in one of the cupboards. There wasn’t a great deal I could do for my face beyond dabbing disinfectant on the various cuts and bruises, a treatment which did little to improve my appearance. My lips remained distinctly negroid, my nose stayed three times larger than usual and my features retained the general appearance of belonging to someone who’d just boxed thirty rounds with Cassius Clay. The bums were a different matter and I plastered the best part of a jar of Vaseline over them before winding a couple of miles of bandages round my trunk. This didn’t do much to improve the way I was feeling but at least it was a step in die right direction.

*

Joao came round while I was consuming a king-sized ham sandwich although he still didn’t look particularly healthy, something I could bear with total equanimity. Provided he answered my questions he was at perfect liberty to peg out at any time he felt like it. After I’d washed down the sandwich with the last of the coffee I pulled my chair over to the table.

‘Let’s have a little chat,’ I suggested.

To give him his due Joao was no coward for, although he was in considerable pain, he did try to make the gesture of spitting in my face. His mouth was too dry for him to succeed but I thumped him in the face to teach him some manners.

‘I’ll try again,’ I told him. ‘How long will it be before Biddencourt and Gordinho return?’

Joao said something extremely unpleasant so I punched him again, harder this time, then poked the barrel of the Nacional into his right ear.

‘Much as I admire loyalty I don’t intend to waste time persuading you to be co-operative.

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