Duty Elsewhere by John Wainwright

Author:John Wainwright [Wainwright, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime
Published: 2012-06-18T20:20:01+00:00

THIRTY-THREE

Adam Cooke replaced the receiver, then lay back on the pillows. The calls—two telephone calls, one to Birmingham, one to Bradford—had left him weak and angry with himself for being weak.

His wife, Laura, watched from the window of the bedroom and her expression reflected the depth of her concern.

“That should do it.” Cooke forced a smile to his battered face. “Chuck Nolan, ‘Boy’ Ralph. They should handle things for a couple of days.”

“Just a couple of days?” she said sadly.

“I get a new leg fixed—get this hand out of plaster—they’ll know I’m around.”

“ ‘They’?” It was a tiny question, asked in a tiny voice.

“People,” he said brusquely.

She walked to the bed, sat on its bottom corner and gazed at his swollen and bandaged face. There was something akin to hero-worship in her eyes. Hero-worship, but not ignorance. She knew about this husband of hers; knew his weaknesses and forgave those weaknesses; knew his strengths and marvelled at those strengths. Knew what he was; knew where every coin required to provide this impossibly luxurious life they led came from. They had no secrets. That, perhaps, was where Adam Cooke enjoyed an edge on other men who had dreamed of ruling a criminal empire; he had one person in whom he could place absolute trust. She knew everything… and excused everything.

And yet, now her gaze disturbed him.

He tried to frown, winced as the movement of his facial muscles pulled at the stitches, then said, “It’s okay, honey. Some of the yucks are getting out of line a little… that’s all.”

“Danny’s dead,” she said tonelessly.

“So?” There was puzzlement in the question.

“It could have been you.”

“It wasn’t me… don’t worry.”

“It could have been you,” she repeated, as if intoning a great truth, newly learned.

“Honey. For Christ’s sake…”

“I don’t care about Danny.” The interruption was not a true interruption. She merely began speaking—as if to herself—and, because she began speaking, he closed his mouth. She said, “I’m not Danny’s wife. I’m your wife. Three years ago, rather than see you go to prison—rather than be without you—I was party to a great mockery. A sinful mockery. You deserved to go to prison. We both know that. The law—like you, I say ‘Damn the law’—but the law has some sort of meaning. All law. Not just man-made law. Natural law. The law of averages. Every law… it has some meaning.”

“Honey, what the hell…?” he began, then closed his mouth again as she continued.

“The law of averages. Actuarial law. You’re living on borrowed time, Adam. This marriage of ours, it’s based on borrowed freedom… and it frightens me.”

“Honey, come here. Closer.” He patted the nylon quilt with his uninjured hand.

“No.” She shook her head and, for the first time her eyes seemed to focus themselves properly on his face. “I know all the arguments. I’ve heard them too many times. I’ve agreed with them too many times. I’m questioning them… that’s all.”

“What arguments? For Christ’s sake…”

“You’re not a fool, Adam.” Life entered her voice. There was now life in her eyes, and life in her voice.

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