A Cool Breeze on the Underground

IGNORANCE.

“Hello, rugger,” Colin said. Crisp sat on the ground beside him in his faithful-dog pose.

“How’s business?”

“Buggers are tying up the phone,” Colin answered, pointing to a queue outside the phone box.

“Shout you a pint?”

Colin looked around for a second, then said, “Why not? Crisp, mind the shop, there’s a good lad.”

They walked to a small pub on Floral Street. Neal found a table by the window and brought two pints over.

“I looked for you over at your place earlier,” he said.

“Office hours.”

“Alice is wrecked.”

Colin shrugged. “‘At’s ’er business, isn’t it?”

“Could affect your business. High rollers don’t like junkies.”

Colin stared out the window. “Well, rugger, ’er business or my business, it’s none of your business.”

Neal glanced out the window. “Might be.”

“Ow’s ‘at?”

“I need a girl.”

Colin laughed. “Not Alice. I’ll set you up with someone else.”

“I need a girl for a job.”

Colin took a long draw on his pint before he said, “My da was on the dole is ‘ole fookin’ life. He was always tellin’ me, ‘Son, ge’ a union job. Ge’ a union job an’ you can fook off your ‘ole life.’ That was my da’s great ambition.

“Is this a union job, Neal?”

“No.”

“We’re interested.”

“It’s a one-shot deal, Colin. Lots of money but very tricky. No mistakes. My ass is on the line.”

“How much money?”

“Enough you won’t have to send Alice out on any more dates.”

Either a trace of shame passed across Colin’s face or he was even a better actor than Neal thought.

“I love ’er, Neal.”

“Right.”

“What’s the job?”

Neal shook his head. “Ill tell you tomorrow. The Serpentine. One o’clock.”

Because you can’t make it too simple, Neal thought. And you have to get him into a pattern of following instructions. Turn the relationship around. Otherwise, the whole thing will screw up.

“Why all the bother?” Colin asked.

“Yes or no?”

“Yes, rugger.”

The tail had picked Neal up in the square and followed him to the pub. He waited across the street and then stayed with him back to the hotel. He stayed a long way back and was real careful. The kid was supposed to be a pro.

Levine answered the phone.

“I’m calling in,” Neal said.

“Good boy.”

“Take your fucking tail off me.”

“What?”

“Next time, send someone knows what he’s doing.”

“Hey, Neal-”

“Take him off.” Neal hung up.

Levine looked at Graham and Lombardi. “That Neal is some piece of work. Little shit thinks I put a tail on him. Asshole.”

Graham’s rubber hand ground into his real one. He had trained Neal better than to see tails that weren’t there.

“Back off.”

“The kid’s on to something, I can smell it.”

The phone connection from London was bad, so he had to repeat himself. “He made you. Back off.”

“He didn’t make me.” “Who’s paying you? Off!” “You got it.”

The guy hung up the phone. He was pissed off. The kid was a pro. A real cute one.

Two scotches and a hot bath didn’t settle Neal down much. That fucking Levine, he thought. That fucking Levine is going to blow this whole thing. If I as much as smell that guy again…