THE THINGS MEN DO: Chapter 11-14

We had a few minutes to wait before the train left, and I
talked desperately, giving him no time to concentrate. I was
scared stiff he might want to put through a priority call to the doctor. Being a member of the Post Office he wouldn’t have any trouble doing that, so I didn’t give him a chance even to think of it
“Looks as if you’re off,” I said as the guard waved his
flag. “Good luck, Bill.”
“Thanks for all you’ve done. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

The train was moving now, and I stepped back with a
sigh of relief. Bill hung out of the window, waving. I stood on the sunlit platform watching until I lost sight of him.

As I drove towards Eagle Street, my mind was busy. I felt I had won the first trick against Dix. I had got Bill out of trouble.

Now I had to wait to see what my next move should be. It
depended on Dix. What would he do after the robbery? Would
he leave the country or hide in London? If he hid in London
would he use Gloria’s flat? Could I get at him through Gloria?

Sooner or later he must make a slip or give me an
opportunity to wreck his plan. I knew I was running a risk.

The wisest thing to have done would have been to have told Bill what was going to happen, but Dix might slip through the net, and I knew he would get those photographs to Ann if it was the last thing he did.

The thought of her looking at those pictures brought me
out in a cold sweat. No matter what happened to me, no
matter what risks I had to rim, those photographs were not to
get into her hands.

I got back to the garage find told Tim to go home.
Ann came running into the office as soon as she heard
me come in.

“Did you find him?”
“It’s all right He’s on his way by now. He said he’d let us
know what happens.”
“Oh, good. I do hope she’ll be all right.”

“Seeing Bill will cheer her up. I don’t envy him his
Journey.”
We talked about Bill for a few minutes, then Ann went
upstairs again.

I went into the office and began to sort out the more
important bills that had to be paid.

I had paid the seventy-five pounds Dix had given me into
my bank. I had been tempted not to put the amount through
the books, but I couldn’t pay my bills in cash, and finally I had decided it would be too risky to try to gyp the income tax people. I had completed writing out the more important
cheques when I saw Joe come out of the partitioned room and
go over to the Jaguar. I watched him check the petrol and oil. He then inflated the tyres with my pressure pump.
Their get-away car, Dix had said.

I felt an angry wave of resentment run through me as I
thought how easily I had been fooled, and how clever they had
been.

“Harry,” Ann called from the head of the stairs.
“Right here.” I pushed back my chair and went to the
door.
“Where have you put the vacuum flask?”
“The—what?”
“The vacuum flask, darling. It’s not in the cupboard.”
“I haven’t seen it”
“Didn’t you take it when you went over to Harris last
night?”

Cold fingers suddenly closed around my heart. I had
difficulty in breathing.

Luckily the light was bad, and Ann couldn’t see my face.
“I—I didn’t take the flask. I took him a cup of tea.”
“That’s very odd. The flask’s not here.”

I was trying to think what I had done with the flask, but
for the moment my brain was paralysed.
“I was going to take it but I couldn’t find it,” I said, my
voice husky.
“It must be somewhere. I’ll look again.” I heard her go into the kitchen.

I stood still, cold sweat on my face while I wracked my
brain to remember what I had done with the flask. I had it with me when l went across to the sorting-office. I had it in my hand when I spotted Harris in his glass-partitioned office. I had it with me when I got into the van to cut the wire, but after that I couldn’t remember what I had done with it.
I couldn’t have left it in the van? I couldn’t have done such a mad, stupid thing as that?

I suddenly felt weak at the knees, and I sat down. I must
have brought it back! Maybe it was in the garage. If I had been mad enough to have left it in the van would it eventually be traced to me? It would have my fingerprints on it.

I went out into the garage and began to hunt feverishly,
but I couldn’t find it.
“It’s not in the kitchen, Harry,” Ann called.
I went to the door at the foot of the stairs.
“It’ll turn up. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll have one more look.”
You won’t find it, I thought, sick and shaking. I
remembered now. I had put it on the floor of the van just
before I cut the wire.

It was there now: a blue and white flask, easily identified, and with my finger-prints on it.

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