Hotbed (23 page)

‘The money has shoved them off balance.'

‘The legacies?'

‘That's it, the legacies. Yes, the legacies,' Articulate said. ‘As if they feel they have to compensate for something.' ‘Compensate for what – for receiving a legacy?' ‘That's it, Ralph. For receiving a legacy.' ‘A sort of guilt – even though the money, or what you –

you, personally – what you personally want to do with it is good?'

‘Yes, like guilt.'

‘Guilt because they and you have profited from a death? This does happen to legatees sometimes, I know – to the sensitive ones, and I'm sure that would include your mother and Edna, not to mention yourself, Alec. They suffer guilt over where the money comes from.'

‘Yes, right, so right – over where it comes from, Ralphy.'

‘“Ralph”, not “Ralphy”.' Cunt. ‘Or “Ember”, Alec.'

‘Why it's in cash, of course.'

‘I don't follow,' Ralph said, face deadpan.

‘So, to rid themselves of this shame, they want to find some noble project where they can put the lucre – and get a return. They're compensating. It's a genuine, worthwhile wish. But what they pick – sorry to say this, Ralph – what they pick is a noble, dud,
mad
project.'

‘I don't see it like that,' Ember replied.

‘No, I shouldn't think you do. Why I had to come back tonight for a chinwag, on our own. I thought you'd be here. Your routine. The captain's last to leave the ship.'

The pool players finished, settled up the bets and said goodnight to Ember.

‘Look, one thing my mother and Edna had right is the gutter rating of the Monty membership on the whole,' Alec said. ‘Again, apologies for the harshness, Ralph, but that's how it is. Gutter and troublesome. Maybe
continuing
troublesome. Take the ding-dong with Unhinged tonight. He's not going to forget it, hammered in public like that, despite a hyphenated name. Anyone togged up in such a suit has pride. He could bring you more unpleasantness in the club. And he thinks he was grassed from the Monty, doesn't he?'

‘It's bollocks.'

‘His perception, though. So, multi-motived retaliation. It's just what you don't want, isn't it? I don't mean you don't want it because it's going to become a grand new place like Edna and my mother were talking about, dreaming about, in their daft fashion. But you don't want that sort of unclassy carry-on in the Monty as it is now because . . . you're not dim, Ralph, and you know that really the Monty is the dregs and when things happen like that with Unhinged, the more dreggy and eternally hopeless the club looks. Unhinged could be long-term pestilential.'

Ralph said: ‘Very kind of you to look in, Alec, but I don't really think someone like Unhinged could –'

‘He'll come back when he's got one of his moods going and start more p.m. gaudy behaviour.'

‘I think it can be handled.'

‘Another whack with a brandy bottle? Iles and Harpur have seen that once. Think: if the Monty gets a reputation for such crudity you might have big bother renewing the licence. You're a drugs wholesaler, Ralph, a shady middleman, and into God or the devil knows what other dicey activities. Iles lets all that go unnoticed up till now, for his own reasons. But changes in the air? Suddenly, he might want to knock you. He's good at that. And he's got a new Chief, who possibly starts hounding him – ordering him to behave like an Assistant Chief, not like Iles. As it were, your use of a Kressmann bottle could be used against you. You've got to act, Ralph, or the Monty will have sunk so far it's past recovery. But, yes, saving it needs money. Plenty of.
Not Misk money
, though. Not Misk money. It will never come your way. Instead, what you must go for, Ralph, is monopoly in the drugs game, isn't it? This sharing with Manse – no good. It's
been
good, but not any longer. They say he knows it. And they say you might know it, too. That's why you put Turret in as a spy, and that's why Turret's dead. You're making things too complicated, Ralph. Move direct. This is what I've learned lately. No fiddling about. Go straight at the target. I hear you and Shale take more than half a million each out of the businesses every year. Well, think – he might be removed. Twice more than half a million is more than a million. With that sort of pay jump you'd be able to start on your fantasy future for the Monty – exclude people like Unhinged, once you're rich enough to do without their membership fees. I call it a fantasy future because – because, like I said, I don't see it ever happening. But you could have a go.
Would
have a go. I know it. I'm as sure of that as I'm sure none of my fucking fortune's going into it.'

‘I have to lock up,' Ember said.

‘Here's the bargain, then, Ralph,' Articulate replied in a ringing, generous voice. ‘It's simple.'

‘Bargain?'

‘Bargain. I'll get rid of Mansel Shale if you promise you won't ever pick up on that offer from my mother and great aunt Edna.'

‘Get rid?'

Articulate became intense. ‘Listen, Ralph, I don't want my money flung away like that by two old dames gone ga-ga. You said you'd file their notion for another consideration sometime. That's a bargaining ploy, and very clever, yes. What I'd expect from Ralph Ember. But I want you to keep it really filed away, or, even better, ditch it, forget it.'

‘
Your
money? It wouldn't all be yours, would it? I thought there were
three
legacies.'

‘Yes, well let's not play about any longer, all right?
My
money.
My
earned money. Cash, cash, cash and more cash. Mine but . . . Ralph, I've always let my mother and great aunt Edna organize the big things in my life, you know.'

‘That so?'

‘Look at me, Ralph.'

‘Yes?'

‘I'll tell you what you see, shall I?'

‘What I see is –'

‘You see a bloke of thirty-two in a suit that cost over two grand, physically sound, and suddenly very successful.' ‘Successful. You mean getting the legacy?' ‘Right, getting the legacy.' The description Articulate gave of himself was not bad,

although it didn't deal with the wide shoulders on a thin body and his longish, deadpan face, as if purposefully manufactured to thwart interrogation. He had a large but unmirthful mouth, skimpy fair eyebrows and bleak blue eyes, maybe a lookout's eyes.

‘I respect mum and great aunt Edna, naturally,' Articulate said. ‘That will never alter. There's so much I owe them. Not these acquired fucking funds, though. I can't be run by those dear ladies any more. I'm me, Ralph. Me. I've learned getting big money is a chancy game, so, once you've got it, don't play about with it. Sorry, Ralph, but I consider any investment by us in this place as a total no-no, because it might be an absolute waste. Perhaps I'm wrong, and you can really bring it off. Not with our cash, though.
Not with our cash
.
My
cash.'

Ember saw the bank raid had transfigured Articulate. This was not just what Ralph thought of at first as ‘jauntiness'. That could come and go. But Alec had climbed a little late into maturity and would stay there. He could string words – ‘perception', ‘compensating'. He could do fruity phrases and alliteration – ‘multi-motived retaliation', ‘fantasy future'. Some of this was disgustingly offensive, but no question he could dish it out. He knew oratory – repetition and stresses. He fancied himself as a proven warrior now – a warrior who could still show token deference to his mother and great auntie Edna, but who also knew that a true warrior's main and perhaps only real role must be to scrap, starting, as a matter of fact, with a crafty, secretive fight against his mother and great aunt about his own money, sort of. He'd grown up – had drawn selfhood from the Holborn bank.

Ember said: ‘There's a term for this kind of character development – “rites of passage”.'

‘Fine! I could get fond of terms like that.' Articulate put an arm across the bar, skirting the Kressmann bottle. This seemed more than just a physical movement. It reeked of overtones, symbolism. ‘A handshake will do for us, I think, Ralph,' he said. It was clipped, matey, seasoned, foursquare, seasoned man to seasoned man. ‘You keep turning down my mother's and great aunt Edna's crazy scheme for my funds, and I see to Shale for you.'

‘See to?'

‘See to,' Misk said.

Ralph took his hand with wholehearted firmness. Naturally. This agreement, whether it worked or not, could be only a bonus. As to alliteration, he would never have given, never
would
give, great aunt Edna, Mrs Misk and Articulate the faintest fucking financial foothold in the Monty, anyway, and, yes, a trade monopoly might help Ralph do all the things he wanted for the club. In any case, as Articulate said, Manse might have monopoly thoughts himself. If Turret had survived he could have told Ralph of Manse's intentions and plans. But Manse most likely wanted those intentions and plans kept confidential, the sickeningly calculating sod, and so he'd silenced Turret.

Now, Ember yearned to be resolute, or, at least, to let someone else be resolute on his behalf. That hint of condemnation from Turret's brother upset Ralph, made him feel flimsy and uncertain, not worthy of the new Monty image. Ralph had indomitable faith in this image, and in the club's potential to become brilliant, enduring, exclusive: clearly much too exclusive for Edna, Rose and Alec. Articulate didn't believe in that potential. Irrelevant: he could still have a try at ‘seeing to' Mansel Shale and so possibly contribute despite himself to Ember's grand, inspired quest.

‘This conversation hasn't taken place, Ralph.'

Oh, Lord, he'd picked up tough-guy, under-your-hat lingo, as well as basic spiel flair. ‘Nobody would believe you could be so articulate, Articulate, anyway,' Ember said.

Harpur had watched Articulate go alone into the Monty at about 1.30 a.m. and then reappear half an hour later and drive off. The club car park was better lit than the Agincourt's, and Harpur thought Articulate looked happy and resolute when he left, even triumphal. That could be a perilous combination in someone as inept as Articulate: perilous above all for himself. He might try something dangerously beyond his range. But maybe this estimate of Articulate's range no longer fitted. Possibly he wasn't inept any longer, if he'd really been picked for the Holborn bank coup: people risking their liberty and life for a stack of gold wanted very ept colleagues, even in the smaller jobs – and, perhaps, especially in, say, a lookout job. Whatever job he'd had, it apparently worked, and he'd probably collected a nice fee – part gratitude, part to cement his silence. How long had they all been misjudging Articulate?

Harpur didn't follow him, but went back to Arthur Street. ‘Surveillance,' he said, as he joined Denise in bed again.

This time she woke up, or wasn't asleep, and put her arms around him, held him to her with some power, even desperation. She played lacrosse for the university and did a lot of training. He valued being gripped like this. It made him feel he really mattered to her. There were times when he could hardly believe that, and not only times when he looked in the mirror. ‘You smell of mud,' she said. ‘Like someone from the trenches.'

‘How often have you been in bed with someone from the trenches?'

‘I worry about you, Col.'

‘I'm old enough to be out in the dark late. But not as old as mud in the trenches.'

‘I never think of you as old.' She had a little sob then, because, obviously, she did sometimes think of him as old, and would have been stupid not to. It might become a factor one day.

‘I didn't say “old”. I said old
enough
.'

At once she brightened. ‘Yes, “old” is a comparative term.'

‘A what?'

‘Comparative.'

‘Compared with what? “Young”?'

‘Is it dangerous, the surveillance? Why mud?'

‘I'm grateful that you worry about me,' Harpur replied. ‘But, no, not dangerous at all.'

‘What's the use of it?'

‘I don't know yet – if anything.'

She loosened her arms around Harpur, pushed him over on to his back and straddled him. ‘Well, I think you deserve to take it fairly easy after all that,' she said.

‘How will
you
take it?'

‘This way. As starters.'

‘This way seems a good way. As starters.'

‘No ecstatic yelling, regardless of the ecstasy,' she said. ‘The girls have been on edge a bit. They wonder about all this surveillance. You know what they're like.'

‘What are they like?'

‘Fretful.'

‘Yes, it was surveillance,' Harpur said.

‘Anyway, the girls might not be sleeping well. They'd be puzzled if they came in and smelled mud.'

Of course, he could have explained the mud, but he didn't want to make things sound chancy, even dangerous, and, in any case, he'd rather not waste his breath and concentration on words now. He and Iles had stayed at the Monty funeral shindig until just before midnight. Then Harpur drove Iles home to Idylls, his house in Rougement Place. ‘What would you say was the most interesting feature of this evening, Col?' Iles had asked.

‘This would depend on viewpoint, sir.'

‘Of course it would depend on fucking viewpoint. That's what I'm asking for – your viewpoint.'

‘You'll have your own viewpoint, I expect, sir.'

‘Yes, I have my own viewpoint and I'd like to know whether
my
viewpoint is the same as
your
viewpoint, which, if so, would suggest these viewpoints are probably the right viewpoints in that they confirm each other. We'll, as it were, pool our viewpoints. Would that upset you, having your viewpoint commingling with mine?'

‘Ah,' Harpur said,'I –' ‘Exactly,' Iles said. ‘The meeting between Ralph, Articulate and the two women.'

‘I saw the meeting between Ralph, Articulate and the two women as a very interesting feature. That is, from my viewpoint.'

‘In which respect interesting?' Iles said.

‘I certainly noticed them in conversation.'

‘Yes, well, as Naomi said, if people are in a club together some conversation is to be expected.' ‘She'll be a real asset to Manse, pointing out the obviousnesses.' ‘I thought the women with Articulate Max looked full of big-time purpose,' Iles said.

‘He's always been dominated by them.'

‘But it's Articulate who has the money now, yes?'

‘If rumours about the bank raid are right.'

‘Articulate might have the money but Rose Misk and great aunt Edna would want to say how it's spent, because Articulate is – because Articulate is the way he is, a nonentity, entirely unused to boodle on a possibly, probably, considerable scale.'

‘Or was.'

‘Shrewd, Harpur.'

‘If he helped lift the International Corporate Diverse Securities treasure it might have done something for his personality.'

‘What might be called “a rite of passage”. That's why I say the conversation with Ralph is the crux of the evening.'

‘In which respect, sir?'

‘Some deal with Ralph proposed by the women?'

‘Ah, yes. They need his help? We think Ember does some laundering of ill-gottens. It's subtly handled. So far the actual evidence is thin.'

‘In my position, I have to see beyond the blatant, the trite, Col.'

‘You're famed for that, sir. People say to me, “That Mr Iles, he would never be satisfied with the blatant and/or trite.”'

‘To me, those women looked set on something considerable, something magnificent, something, perhaps, grandiose.'

‘Property? Ralph probably has estate agent contacts who don't quibble about accepting dubious cash, for a special commission – and I mean fat cash in cash form.'

‘Always you reach for the banal, Harpur.'

‘I'm famed for it, sir. When I introduce myself, people say, “Harpur? Harpur? You must be the one who always reaches for the banal.” It's a real ice-breaker.'

‘By “full of big-time purpose”, I meant elevated purpose. Ralph Ember may be part of that elevated purpose.'

‘Ralph has some good sides to him.'

‘Perhaps these two women want to help him emerge,' Iles said.

‘From where to where, sir?'

‘From the Monty to the new, dignified, reputable, exclusive, magnificent Monty.'

‘Back his sad, mad plans for the club?' Harpur asked.

‘Back his sad, mad plans for the club. What was it Oscar Wilde said, Col?'

‘This will be another of those books you had your head stuck in as a child.'

‘“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” That's Ralphy. The women think they can help him get out of the gutter by freshening up the Monty project with their funds.'

‘
Their
funds? Is Articulate going to agree to that?' Harpur said. ‘He's earned that loot. Not a pushover. I know he is, or was, dim and a doormat but –'

‘Articulate looked as if he loathed the idea – if that
was
the idea on the table. I'm guessing, Harpur. I'm not infallible.'

‘I've heard people say your guessing is not infallible but wondrous nonetheless. This was one of the phrases that has remained in my mind, “wondrous nonetheless”.'

‘Which people? Did they all say “wondrous nonetheless”? It would sound like a put-up job if so.'

‘You think great aunt Edna and Rose will browbeat Articulate?'

‘They might try. That's supposing Ralph would touch their money. Articulate and the women are the kind of members he wants to kick out as a condition of turning the club into the new, dignified, reputable, exclusive, magnificent Monty. He's not going to welcome them as partners.'

‘Ralph can be fussy.'

They drew up at Iles's house. ‘What we have to think, Col, is that Articulate himself may have
emerged
, as you hinted. I certainly don't dismiss
all
your attempts to analyse a situation.'

‘Thank you, sir.'

‘Anyone could see – and I include you in this, Col – anyone could see that if it's true Articulate helped at ICDS he's lived through big hazard, even possibly shown big skills. He's had a victory. Yes, perhaps he feels he's somebody at last. He'll want to keep on being somebody. He'll know he won't do that by throwing his cash at Ralph and the Monty

pipedream. He might try something else, though.'

‘What kind of thing, sir?'

‘We ought to keep an eye on Articulate, Col.'

‘In which respect, sir?'

‘Oh, yes. Possible crucial developments there, Col.' Iles climbed out of the car, waved, disappeared into Idylls. If Iles forecast crucial developments, there would most probably be . . . crucial developments. Harpur had sat for a while outside the house thinking. Then he drove back to the Monty. It was just before 1.30 a.m. The club would still be open. He wanted to see if discussions between Ralph, Articulate and the women had resumed. Perhaps he – Harpur – could come up with supposed insights the way Iles had, or even do some eavesdropping: that would be more in his workaday line.

But as he approached the Monty he saw an old Mercedes enter the car park, and Articulate get out and hurry into the club. He and the women must have left earlier. Now, it looked as if Articulate was returning alone. This seemed to endorse Iles's non-infallible guesswork, though Harpur couldn't have said exactly how. He kept going and parked out of sight around the corner from Shield Terrace, then returned on foot. Articulate had found wisdom and not ostentatiously blown some of the bank money on a new car, supposing he really had a slice of the bank money. Or the two women had
imposed
wisdom.

Harpur realized he must switch tactics. It would be too obviously a spy ploy if he actually went into the club now and found Ember and Misk in one-to-one conversation. Road works were under way opposite the car park. A reasonably deep hole had been left overnight, surrounded by red and white warning barriers. Harpur climbed in. The mud felt moist, but not impossible. His feet rested on a hefty piece of piping. Water? Drainage? Gas? Telephone lines? He crouched. Dugouts must have been something like this in the First World War. What was that saying his father had told him the troops used then? ‘If you know a better 'ole you go to it.' Harpur didn't know of a better 'ole, for now. From his chosen spot he could see the Monty door into the car park and observe all movement. There wasn't any, until, just before 2 a.m., Articulate came out and went to his vehicle. Harpur crouched lower and tried to merge with the mud when Articulate's headlights made an arc as he drove away. Yes, like being under star shells on the Western Front in 1916.

Harpur had climbed out of his cover then, gone home, and, instead, climbed into bed. ‘Surveillance.'