Jack Carter's Law Read Free

road.”
    The driver does as he’s told. Now it’s my turn to look out of the window. The rolling slope of Primrose Hill swings into view and beyond it the smudgy city shimmers through the steamy window. The cab stops and rain sweeps against its bodywork.
    “I’ve asked everyone that can be asked,” Cross says, “and nobody knows a dickybird.”
    “And so what do you think?”
    Cross allows himself a faint grin. “Approximately the same as you,” he says.
    When I don’t say anything Cross says, “Well, there
you are.”
    Then he leans forward and slides open the partition again and tells the driver to take us back to Plender Street.
    On the way Cross says, “If, for one reason or another, this turns out to be the last time we meet on a professional basis, I’d just like to be able to think that when you remember all the little favours I’ve done you and Gerald and Les, then you’ll forget you ever heard my name or saw my face.”
    I put my hand in my inside pocket and take out the envelope and put it against Cross’s mouth and push upwards, causing the envelope tobuckle against the underside of his nose, forcing his head back onto the shelf behind the seat.
    “Listen, cunt,” I tell him, “what’s in this envelope is all you get in return for your favours. And just remember this: I’m not so stupid that I don’t tumble you’re just telling me half of what you know, like you always do. So if there’s a time when there’s a few names flying this way and that don’t forget that yours begins with the third letter of the alphabet.”
    The taxi draws up behind my Rover and Cross tries to get the envelope away from his face and says, “What I’ve told you is all I know.”
    “Oh yes? Well if there’s anything you’ve overlooked then phone me or Gerald or Les before ten o’clock tonight. Now take your pigging money and let me get out.”
    I let go of the envelope and it falls in Cross’s lap. While he’s smoothing out the envelope I open the door and rain spits into the cab. I look at my watch. Sod Gerald and Les. They can wait for an hour. I slam the cab door behind me.

--

    Audrey
    I ’M LYING BACK IN bed, smoking, and I say to Audrey who I’ve just lit up in more ways than one, “Isn’t it about time you had your nails cut,” and she says to me, “Leave off, you know that’s one of the bits you enjoy best,” and I must admit she’s right, only of course I don’t admit it to her. I take a few more drags and look down my body and at her body which is naked except for the half-slip which, time being of the essence, we never got round to taking off. The slip’s all twisted up round her waist except for a little bit of lace edging that’s overlapping the top few curls of her pubic hair. I reach down and pull the slip away so that she’s all exposed and she gives me a look. “Do me a favour.” I tell her, “Not yet, what do you think I am, James Bond?” She pulls a face. “All it is,” I say, “is that it’s a long time till your next visit to the hairdresser’s, isn’t it, and I like to remember,” and she says, “Funny.” At first I don’t tumble and then when I do of course I have to laugh.
    I finish the cigarette and get off the bed and walk over to the table where we’d left the vodka and ice and slices of lemon and I liven up my half-empty glass and ask Audrey if alcohol might not be an anticlimax after what we’ve just been through and she says, “What about you then?”
    “I’ve got to steady my nerves down after that,” I tell her and she says, “Well, you’d better give me one because I’ve got to steady mine down because I’ve got to phone Gerald. I’m late.”
    “I’ve got to phone him too,” I tell her. “I should have been at the club an hour ago.” I make her drink and take it over to the bed picking up the phone on the way. Audrey takes a drink but she doesn’t touch the telephone, just stares at it, as she lies there propped up on her elbow.