Free Vacuum by Bill James Page B

only help convince Upton even more that he’s interpreting things right.’
    â€˜I don’t at all see—’
    â€˜He knows you would feel compelled to back me.’
    â€˜Not if I thought you probably had been in pre-touch with Ralph. That’s serious treachery.’
    Iles began to shout-scream and had trouble getting enough air into his lungs, although the passenger window remained down. They were in traffic, moving slowly. It was the morning rush-hour. People on the pavement, intrigued by the yelling, turned to stare at him and the Peugeot. They were used to fucking awful thump music booming through car windows, not a frenzied, inflamed live voice. ‘Do I have to mention Sarah?’ Iles said.
    â€˜Your wife, sir? Surely she doesn’t have any part in—’
    â€˜My wife. Upton hears you repeatedly closed with my wife – that is, let’s define what’s what, shall we? – an Assistant Chief’s wife. Yes, an Assistant Chief (Operation’s) wife. You rakehelled with her in numerous undignified and often deeply déclassé settings. He’ll assume, because he’s a typical half-soaked gent with a Humanities degree, that you are now ashamed and wish to make paltry amends, compensate, by siding with me in any tough situation.’
    Harpur said: ‘Are you sure this is how the Chief would react? Isn’t that a rather special way of reading things, sir?’
    â€˜It is a rather special way of reading things, Harpur, because it’s my fucking way.’
    â€˜But there’s a much wider policy matter here, sir, isn’t there?’ Harpur said.
    â€˜Certainly, Col.’
    â€˜You think conditions on our ground will be best if Ralph continues untroubled in business, alongside Manse’s successor.’
    â€˜Certainly, Col.’
    â€˜The Chief wants Ralph wiped out, as first move in a general cleansing of our ground.’
    â€˜Sir Matthew is in many, many ways an almost acceptable figure but hasn’t been in post long enough to appreciate the complexities of matters in this region, Col. I’ll nurse him away from his predictable, corny new-brooming towards clarity. This is a chore, but it’s the least I can do for the confused sod.’
    â€˜But your argument about tolerating the dealers is more general, more national – international, in fact – than just our region. You consider that if your methods worked here, they would be a model for countries everywhere. That’s what I meant by “wider policy”.’
    â€˜True. We have some very particular circumstances here, though,’ Iles explained.
    For instance, you, sir? But Harpur did not say this.
    â€˜In due course, Sir Matt will probably come to get the feel of how we run things. I do detect a quotient of brain power in him now and then, or even oftener. His degree is from somewhere making a real effort to get reputable, I hear. He’s quite open about it.’
    â€˜You very generously said he wasn’t a cunt, sir, though possibly a prick, and you’re not somebody to scatter compliments carelessly.’
    â€˜If there’s one quality I prize above most others it’s balance, Col. My mother would often remark on this quality in me, even when a child. “Desmond!” she’d exclaim, “you are so judicious.”’
    â€˜I’d never say anything against someone’s mother. People can be very touchy about their mothers.’
    The Chief had already arrived when they reached headquarters. He was heavily built, plump rather than burly. He listened while Francis Garland reported, and then took versions of what had gone on from each of his team. Iles and Harpur listened, also. Garland gave a full narrative of events from arrival to departure, recounting conversations, explaining that Ember was in his day clothes, detailing his and Margaret’s attitude. The search-trained officers said they’d