Free Comeback by Peter Corris Page A

your client, but I hardly think he’s paying for our lunch.’
     
    ‘Another client.’
     
    ‘Just back in business and two well-heeled clients already. I’d offer congratulations, but...Ah. Here we are.’
     
    The waitress put a large platter of antipasto on the table in front of O’Grady. She showed him the wine bottle and opened it expertly on his nod. She produced a fresh glass; he tasted the wine and nodded again. He scooped up the few remaining nuts and olives and ate them before using a small fork to spear pieces of meat and cheese which he gobbled. He dived in again.
     
    ‘Won’t you spoil your appetite?’
     
    ‘Age shall not weary it nor the years condemn. Just let me savour this for a few minutes before getting down to the no doubt distasteful business you have in mind. Do you want to share?’
     
    I shook my head.
     
    ‘Good.’
     
    ‘Can we get started?’
     
    ‘Always in a hurry, that’s you, Hardy. Wait until I’ve had my first bite of fish. Have some more of this fine wine. Relax a little.’
     
    With someone like O’Grady there’s nothing else to do. It was late in the week, a popular time for lunching, and the restaurant was filling up. We were at a table for two with no other table really close. Ideal for a private talk. O’Grady was an old hand. I drank some wine and ate some bread. The fish came.
     
    ‘Cracked pepper, Mr Hardy?’
     
    I looked at her in surprise. I hadn’t been in the place for years and had never seen her before. O’Grady chuckled.
     
    ‘Fame, Cliff, fame. She saw you on television. It’s the only thing that matters these days, unfortunately.’
     
    I accepted cracked pepper and ate fish. It was good. O’Grady took some time with the dressing on his salad. He started on his fish.
     
    ‘Phil Tyson,’ I said. ‘What can you tell me about him?’
     
    ‘Nothing good. A thug. You know he sacked me.’
     
    I nodded. ‘But I want you to be objective.’
     
    ‘Hard to be objective about Phil.’ He ate a couple of large mouthfuls of the fish followed by a considerable number of chips and some salad in rapid succession. He chewed slowly and bowed his head reverently. ‘Beautiful food, don’t you agree?’
     
    ‘It’s fine. Thuggish how?’
     
    ‘In every way—the people he hires, the pressure he exerts, especially on his clients.’
     
    I stopped eating. ‘On his clients?’
     
    ‘I assume you’re working for one of them. Not surprising. You should never tell your secrets to Phil. He’ll handle your problem all right, but then he owns you and you have to dance to his tune.’
     
    ‘Blackmail?’
     
    ‘You could say that.’
     
    ‘Do you happen to know whether he did any work for a bloke named Ray Frost?’
     
    O’Grady ate and drank in his measured, appreciative way. He dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. ‘I believe he did, yes.’
     
    ‘Do you know what it was?’
     
    He poured more wine and inspected the level in the bottle. ‘Another, d’you think?’
     
    ‘No. Tyson and Frost?’
     
    ‘Sounds like a comedy team but I doubt there was anything funny about it. I don’t know the details; it was after my time, but I imagine Phil straightened out Frost’s problem in his usual direct manner and then extracted his pound of flesh.’
     
    He compiled a forkful of food. ‘Poor choice of words.’
     
    ‘Direct manner?’
     
    ‘Phil has a phalanx of heavies and they run about in a fleet of cars. I once saw the entire executive fleet turn up at the one place at the same time. Very intimidating. You’re not eating.’
     
    The fish was succulent and the vegetables were crisp but I was losing interest in the food. Something about O’Grady’s rapid consumption and absolute enjoyment put me off. I toyed with what was on my plate for a while before putting my knife and fork down and taking a decent swig of wine.
     
    ‘Disgusting,’ O’Grady said. ‘Sip it, man, sip it.’
     
    ‘Why did you leave Sterling Security,