Boiling Point

by Frank Lean

  Suddenly I didn’t feel very well. My head was throbbing again. I lay back and closed my eyes.

  ‘Dave, you’re a mate, but I shall want some answers in the morning,’ Bren said quietly before leaving me alone.

  I must have slept for several hours. It was dark and the hospital was relatively quiet when I woke up. A woman was holding my hand.

  ‘Janine,’ I murmured.

  ‘Hah! It’s not Ironpants,’ my visitor said sharply.

  ‘Marti!’

  ‘Lucky guy, aren’t you, with two women fussing over you? Which one of us would you rather it was?’

  I said nothing and then in the darkness I heard the air being sucked into her lungs for that familiar tidal wave of laughter.

  ‘No!’ I gasped.

  She managed to confine the eruption to a mere chuckle. She switched on the night light.

  ‘You know, you’ve made more waves for the Carlyle Corporation than even I managed at my peak. Is it true you’ve got proof that my dad was innocent?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Make sure you keep it somewhere safe, then. I wouldn’t give tuppence for your chances of surviving next week. If you knew the trouble I’ve been to over the last year trying to keep you alive . . .’

  ‘Nice of you.’

  ‘Yes, it was,’ she agreed, ‘and it’s time you paid me back.’ She kissed me and slipped her hand under the sheets for a quick grope.

  ‘Marti!’ I muttered. She wasn’t deterred and somehow I couldn’t find the energy to stop her or to scream for help. The flimsy gown I was wearing didn’t offer much of an obstacle to her advances. All my responses were normal.

  ‘I wouldn’t have done it for anyone else,’ she said conversationally as she unbuttoned her blouse, ‘but you’re the first man who ever did anything for me without knowing I was Vince King’s daughter or connected to the Carlyle family.’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Yes,’ she grunted, pulling the sheets completely off the bed. In rapid succession, several of her garments joined the blouse and the sheets on the floor.

  ‘This isn’t the time or the place,’ I protested.

  ‘It is. I might never get another chance,’ she said climbing onto the bed and straddling me.

  ‘Someone might come in.’

  ‘The door’s locked.’

  By this time neither Marti nor I was wearing much apart from a pleasant expression. I know I should have chinned her or something but I didn’t.

  ‘You’re pretty fit for a hospital patient,’ she commented a few minutes later. ‘I bet old Ironpants wouldn’t have done that for you.’ She was sitting on the bed beside me, trying to twist the hair sticking out from under my bandages into a plait.

  ‘She’s got other things on her mind as well, you know,’ I said, untangling her fingers from my hair. ‘It was you who arranged for Talbot to come back on the scene, wasn’t it?’

  ‘If it’s worth fighting over a man, it’s worth fighting dirty,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘Don’t start!’ I pleaded.

  She laughed again, not her full air-raid siren but loudly enough. I felt certain that someone would come banging on the door, but no one did. As if she could read my mind Marti started getting dressed. I watched as she tethered her breasts in her bra. At least she hadn’t come to put a bullet in my head – or had she?

  ‘You haven’t exactly been straight with me, have you?’ I said truculently, while trying to arrange the hospital gown to protect what remained of my modesty. ‘Was it you who sent that white van after me when I was coming back from Finchley?’

  ‘Of course not! Nor did Brandon or Charlie. I haven’t a clue who that lot were.’ She was now fully dressed and she picked up the hospital bed-linen and slung it at me. ‘Dave,’ she said seriously, ‘Charlie tried to do you but his effort was as feeble as everything else about him.’

  ‘When did he try?’

  ‘Right from that first day at Tarn he’s been breathing fire whenever your name comes up. You mocked his accent or something. He’s very sensitive, is Charlie. He broods on things. I managed to dissuade him then but when he found we’d been to see Vince and that I was seeing you he had a go at you with a Jeep. You were running on the Meadows or something. Poor Charlie, he couldn’t hit a hole in the road.’

  ‘Poor Charlie! Maybe I should have helped him by lying down.’

  ‘Don’t start me off,’ she warned as she tried to suppress her laugh. ‘He probably would still have missed you.’

  I fixed her with a stern look.

  ‘And what about the hit on Lou Olley? I just do not buy it that you don’t know who was responsible. Time to spill the beans, Marti.’

  She pouted.

  ‘Oh, I suppose you might as well know. Remember I told you about Charlie’s attempt to finish Brandon off by fixing the electric doors at South Pork, and how Brandon caught him at it? Well, Brandon told him then that he had to get shot of me or leave the business. Poor old Charlie asked Lou Olley to handle the job. Lou had a soft spot for me . . .’

  ‘You mean, you’d bedded him!’

  ‘Could be, but the stupid lump was soft enough to tell me that he was coming to pick you and me up at your office.’

  ‘And as far as you were concerned it might just as well have been a suicide pact for one person only – me?’

  ‘It didn’t work out that way, did it?’

  ‘Did you get Olley killed?’

  ‘Not me personally, but I know how it was done. What do you expect, Dave? Olley wasn’t the sort of man you stop with a slap on the wrist. It’s horrible. I don’t want to talk about it.’

  I looked her in the face and she opened her green eyes wide. She looked truthful and sincere enough to set a High Court judge raving about fragrant English roses. Oh well, the late Olley was unlamented. Why should I push it? On the other hand, I was neither late nor unlamented . . . yet!

  ‘Marti,’ I said softly, ‘someone tried to run me into a motorway bridge. That wasn’t clumsy Charlie! Another few inches and I’d have been strawberry jam.’

  ‘I know,’ she replied, sounding so honest and serious that almost every particle of me wanted to believe her.

  ‘How do you know?’ I asked angrily.

  ‘Dave, get real. The family knows everything about you that the police know. Did you think Hefflin was the only cop on Brandon’s pay roll?’

  I shook my head in despair.

  ‘There’s someone else involved besides the Carlyles. Brandon’s scared stiff. I’m not certain but I think they tried to break into his house. I had an idea they were after me too, that’s why I cleared out so fast when I clocked them in Finchley.’

  ‘Sounds likely!’ I said sceptically. ‘As well as the Carlyle clan, someone else is out there looking for our blood.’

  ‘Just your blood, Dave,’ she murmured, stroking my hand. ‘It was you they were after that night in London. I found that out when they went after you and not me. I’m straight with Brandon. When I ran off to London he thought I was going to grass . . . I mean, Charlie had arranged for Olley to kill me, but Brandon knows now that I never would’ve grassed. We don’t do things like that in my family.’

  ‘You’re a joke, Marti! Sending Olley to kill you is just a social blunder but grassing’s the worst crime in the book. Let me get Brendan Cullen here and you can tell him all this.’

  ‘Now you’re pissing me off, Dave.’

  ‘But why? Don’t you see this is your best way to dump Charlie?’

  ‘You’re talking like a copper. Face it, Dave, grassing is worse than a crime. I’d never do it. Why, if Vince came out tomorrow he could go to a dozen different places where they’d have a whip round for him. But grass on your own and no one wants to know you. It’s just something no decent person ever does.’

  I gaped at her. She sounded like an outraged matron who’d just been asked to strip by a bunch of lager louts. I tried to suppress a laugh.

  ‘I see,’ I said between giggles. M
arti didn’t see anything funny.

  ‘No, really, after you gave Charlie that alibi for Lou it put me in the clear with the family. They knew I’d learned my lesson and that there wasn’t going to be any comeback for Charlie’s little mistake. He tried to kill me and I played away for a while with a good-looking guy. These things happen in families. It’s a fact of life – look at the Royals . . . Brandon really trusts me now.’

  ‘And you trust him? And Charlie, how can you stand having him near you?’

  ‘Dave, you’re a lovely man, so straight! I’d move in with you tomorrow if I thought you’d live a bit longer, but really! You don’t pull in enough to keep me in shoe leather, whereas Charlie . . .’

  ‘Whereas Charlie arranged for you to be bumped off.’

  ‘There is that,’ she admitted and her face darkened. ‘This is all such a mess, Dave. If only I’d never got you involved with Vince. Brandon won’t live for ever and we could have got it together . . .’

  ‘Nice!’ I muttered.

  ‘Dave, there’s something I must tell you. You know that day you rescued me at Tarn Golf Club?’

  ‘How could I forget it?’

  ‘It put the idea of how to kill me in Charlie’s head. They were going to fake an accident. You’d be driving and I’d be drunk, and we’d both be dead because the car would have burnt to a cinder with us in it.’

  ‘Sounds complicated.’

  ‘No, it would’ve been easy. They had a car rigged to set on fire. When he was shot Olley was on his way to pick you up. I’m not sure what he would’ve said, but they’d have got you behind the wheel of that car with me in it and then bingo!’

  ‘No wonder Charlie wanted to see me afterwards. It’s time someone sorted him.’

  ‘No, Dave, that’s useless. This is how things are. The first day I was in the children’s home I learned that everyone’s out for themselves. You don’t think there’s somebody up there writing everything down in a big book, do you?’

  I shrugged my shoulders uncomfortably. She looked at me for an answer. ‘The accounts have to be balanced sometime,’ I muttered eventually. In Charlie’s case that might be sooner rather than later, but I didn’t say that.

  She breathed in sharply and I thought she was going to laugh, but suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘That’s what Sam Levy used to say, and look what happened to him,’ she said. ‘His whole family was killed, his sister got cancer and he was tortured to death.’

  ‘Don’t you think the people who tortured him should pay for it?’

  ‘It wasn’t Brandon. I know that.’

  ‘You mean you’ve persuaded yourself.’

  ‘I know, because it was me that got Lou done and that caused Sam’s death.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Do you ever speak in sentences of longer than one word?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘OK, man of few words. Let’s just say that Charlie isn’t the world’s greatest conspirator. I had a good idea what he was up to and I made my own moves.’

  ‘Marti, this is an interesting story but at the time Lou was killed you were in the Renaissance Hotel, dead drunk.’

  ‘I didn’t say I killed him myself. I got him done.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It’s not like you think. Olley kept coming on to me. We’d had a fling but he wouldn’t accept it was over. It was him gave me the black eye that time. I knew what was in the wind. I told Sam Levy . . .’

  ‘Who just happened to have a South African contract killer in his top pocket.’

  ‘How did you know?’ she asked in a shocked voice.

  ‘A little bird told me,’ I said.

  ‘It was him who arranged for Lou to have his surprise.’

  ‘Nice man!’

  ‘He was. He’d been wanting a straightener with Lou Olley for a long while. Sam couldn’t stand Olley. He reckoned poor Lou had ideas above his station. It was Sam who got him started, after all. Sam tried to get Brandon to sack Olley, but Brandon sacked him instead. Leah died soon after he got the heave-ho and I think Sam thought her death was something to do with that. He felt he’d done as much to build up the business as Brandon. When I told him Charlie was going to get Olley to do me he said he’d sort it. I thought he just meant he’d have a word with Brandon – maybe he did, but we know what happened next – no more Lou Olley.’

  ‘That’s a lovely theory, Marti, but the same woman who shot Olley was in this room the other day trying to kill me.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t you see? That’s why they tortured Sam.’

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘The people that Brandon’s scared of, the ones who ran you off the motorway.’

  ‘Marti, do you think I still believe in fairies? It was Brandon who sent her. Hefflin was just coming to check that she’d done the job.’

  ‘It wasn’t Brandon. I was with him when he heard that the police had done you. He sent Hefflin round to make sure you knew to keep shtoom about Charlie’s alibi.’

  ‘They must be very convenient for Brandon, this mystery gang who go round killing people who upset the Carlyle Corporation.’

  ‘It’s all true. Don’t you see, they tortured Sam and found out about this woman. Then they stashed her away for future use.’

  I laughed.

  ‘Brandon knows who they are but he won’t tell,’ Marti insisted. ‘I think it’s something to do with his big tickle.’

  ‘Big tickle!’ I scoffed. ‘This isn’t a joke.’

  ‘Brandon’s not laughing. I’m not laughing. Dave, the main reason that Brandon’s not in prison is that he knew when to stop. He had this big tickle, made enough dosh to set himself up for life. My dad was involved but neither he nor Brandon will say what it was. After that Brandon went more or less legitimate, or at least he keeps the mucky end of the business at arm’s length. My dad didn’t know when to stop. He’s always been a chancer and that’s why he’s banged up now.’

  ‘Why should this tickle still be causing trouble twenty-odd years later?’

  ‘It was something heavy, something really big, something that made the Train Robbery or the Brinks Mat job look like rubbish. Look how well Brandon’s done ever since. It could be that one of these London firms still has its nose out of joint and wants to share Brandon’s good luck.’

  ‘How come there’s been nothing in the papers about this job?’

  ‘Maybe the authorities decided to keep it quiet.’

  ‘There seem to be a lot of ifs and maybes, Marti.’

  ‘I can’t make you believe me, but why do you think they left that box full of pearls when they did Sam? That was to show Brandon that they weren’t after chickenfeed. Brandon might have killed Sam but he’d never have tortured him.’

  I shrugged.

  ‘OK, be a dickhead then! Don’t believe me. You’ve ruined everything. You’re like my old man, you don’t know when to stop.’

  ‘How do you work that out?’

  ‘You can get my dad out of prison, which is something Brandon would like rather less than the abolition of money, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I mean, that’s why I started this whole thing about my dad – to get even with Charlie and Brandon.’

  ‘I see, so what am I doing wrong?’

  ‘Dick! If you’d asked Brandon for a million in used notes to keep Vince inside he’d have paid up with a smile. He wouldn’t have been pleased but he’d have respected you. He might even have let you live, especially if you’d cleared off with me afterwards. But what do you do? All you ask for is Clyde Harrow’s job back! Brandon’s got to think that you’re a crazy who needs to be put down like a mad dog.’

  ‘Mad dog I may be, but I’m not crazy enough to make bargains with murderers.’

  ‘I keep telling you, Brandon hasn’t murdered anyone yet – well, no one that you know.’

  ‘All right, say I believe you about Sam Levy and the attempt to kill me on the motorway and that it was all down to some other bunch and not
Brandon, what about Morton V. E. Devereaux-Almond? Someone topped him.’

  ‘Says who?’

  ‘Me.’

  ‘Brandon doesn’t like loose ends but I can’t believe he did old Almond. Almond’s his cousin.’

  ‘Name of Allemano?’

  ‘Martin Victor Emmanuel Allemano is what it said on his birth certificate. Martin for his dad and Victor Emmanuel for the King of Italy. Yes, you’ve been a busy boy, Dave, finding things out, and look where it’s got you. No, it must be those other people who did for him.’

  ‘Do you expect me to believe that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter what you believe now. Brandon’s certain to kill you and there’s nothing I can do about it. I expect he’s already put the contract out on you.’

  ‘Do you know that?’

  ‘He won’t say “Kill Cunane” to anyone. He’ll just put the right words in the right ears and they’ll know what to do. It’s business with him now, not sentiment. Letting Harrow have his job back was just to put you off your guard.’

  ‘You know some charming people, Marti.’

  ‘It’s not my fault. It’s always been like that, but when you came along in that car park and put Charlie in his place I thought there might be a chance for something else.’

  I looked at her. She was smiling now. I wasn’t. According to her thesis, my goose was cooked whoever came out on top.

  ‘Right!’ she said. ‘That’s what I really came to say. It’ll make no difference now what you do about Vince, so you might as well spring the old fool.’

  Hysteria can be catching and this time it was my turn to laugh. Marti joined in. Then she gently turned the lock on the door but to my surprise didn’t leave that way. Instead she went over to the window, opened it and started climbing out. We were on the first floor.

  ‘Whose daughter am I, then? Get my dad out, eh?’ she said with a cheeky grin. ‘Goodbye, Dave. I won’t wish you luck because I think you’ve used yours up and I need all my own.’ Then she was gone. The last I saw was her hand as she closed the window behind her and clambered onto the fire escape.