Free Get Carter by Ted Lewis

keeping quiet because somebody with connections is involved.”
    “That’s probable.”
    There’d been a silence.
    “Of course,” Gerald had said, “if that was the case, there are only two or three people up there who would have those kind of connections.”
    “That’s right.”
    There was another silence.
    “You know, of course, how much we value our business arrangements with a certain gentleman who lives in the vicinity of your home town?”
    “Do me a favour.”
    “Yes, right. Well, all I’m saying, Jack, is think. Whatever you come across, think. I wouldn’t want the business, us, to be embarrassed in any way.”
    “You don’t know anything, do you, Gerald?”
    “Jack …”
    Another silence.
    “All I can say is this,” he’d said. “They’ll all know you’re there. That’ll mean trouble. With some people, all right. With others, well … we wouldn’t want to make a bad situation worse by sticking by you. And if you caused a bit of trouble, and you got sorted out, well, you wouldn’t be all that fit to do the job you’re doing now. Would you?”
    “I’ll survive.”
    “Of course you will, Jack. All I hope is you won’t do anything, you know, thoughtless.”
    Les, still flicking through Punch , had said:
    “One thing, Jack. If there has been any funny business, and the scuffers are keeping mum, well, if you create a bit more, they might feel they’ll have to do something. You know. They don’t like members from town going up there and doing whatever they like.”
    “Yes,” said Gerald. “It might get into the papers, then they’d have to, like it or not.”
    “I know all that,” I’d said, “so don’t tell me about it.”
    Another silence. Then Gerald had said:
    “Well, there’s only this; you do good work for us, Jack. I’m not saying we couldn’t do without you, but it’d be an unnecessarily difficult job finding someone to replace you.”
    I’d said nothing.
    “So whichever way you look at things, have a think before you make any important decisions. Like going to a funeral, for instance.”
    He’d had to smile then, to make the last bit seem like more of a joke than it was meant to be.
    I parked the car in The Cecil car park, but I didn’t go in by the side door. I walked round the front and in by the main entrance.
    I walked over to the bar. Keith was on duty three barmen away. He looked at me. I shook my head. He looked away. I had to keep up the pretence of secrecy in front of him in case he wondered why I wasn’t bothering to play it cagey.
    I got my drinks and turned round and leaned against the bar, so that I could see the Friday-nighters as they got them in down and over. Nothing had changed.
    The double doors opened and a man came in.
    He was fairly tall, on the thin side, his hair, what you could see of it, was dark, and he walked erect with one hand in his jacket pocket, royalty-style, a cigarette in his other hand, held at waist height, pressed into his middle, and he wore a peaked hat that had a very shiny visor and a double-breasted blue serge suit, three-button, silver buttons, the kind of suit all chauffeurs wear.
    It was my old friend Eric Paice. How nice to see him, I thought.
    He walked up to the bar and pretended not to see me. He’d seen me the minute he’d opened the door, if not before.
    While he was ordering I picked up my drinks and walked along to where he was standing. I gave him a minute while he counted out his change, still pretending.
    “Hello, Eric.”
    He turned. His expression was meant to be full of amazement. All that happened was his right eyebrow moved an eighth of an inch towards the peak of his cap.
    “Good God,” he said.
    I smiled.
    “Jack Carter,” he said.
    His voice was as surprised as his face.
    “Eric,” I said. “Eric Paice.”
    He put his money in his pocket.
    “You’re the last person I should have expected to see round this way,” he said.
    “Oh,” I said. “You didn’t know this is my home town,