Bear Pit. Jon Cleary
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Название: Bear Pit
Автор: Jon Cleary
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Приключения: прочее
isbn: 9780007554164
isbn:
‘Terrible business,’ said the guard, a burly man young enough to have been Hans Vanderberg’s grandson. ‘He could be a cranky old bastard, but we all liked him and respected him. Good luck. Get the shits who killed him.’
‘You notice?’ said Malone as they got out of the car. ‘He used the plural – the shits who killed him. Nobody’s going to believe this was a one-man job.’
The two women secretaries in the Premier’s outer office still looked stunned, as if their boss’ murder had occurred only an hour ago. One was drying her eyes as the two detectives came in and asked for Ladbroke. Without rising she pointed to the inner door, as if she and her colleague no longer had anything to protect.
Ladbroke was packing files into cartons. He was jacketless and tieless; he seemed even to have shed his urbanity. He looked up irritably as Malone and Clements came, then took a deep breath and made an effort to gather himself together.
‘Billy Eustace wants to move in this afternoon as Acting Premier. The king is dead, long live the king.’ He still wore his old cynicism; it was like a second skin. ‘You come up with anything yet?’
‘We’ve got a few things to work on,’ said Malone. ‘We’re on our way down to Sussex Street. We’d like some background on what’s been going on the past few weeks.’
Ladbroke looked at a file in his hand, then tapped one of the cartons. ‘A good deal of it is in here, but I can’t let you see it. It’s stuff that was leaked to the Old Man from down there.’
‘We could get a warrant. Those aren’t Cabinet papers, Roger.’
Ladbroke drew another deep breath, then put the file in a carton and pushed the box along the Premier’s big desk. ‘Okay, but read it here. There are three files – the red-tabbed ones.’
Malone pushed the carton towards Clements. ‘You’re the speed-reader.’
Clements took the three red-tabbed files and retired to a chair by the window. Malone sat down and looked across the desk at Ladbroke, who had slumped down in what had been his boss’ chair. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘I’m organizing a State funeral for him. After that—’ He shrugged.
‘A State funeral? When?’
‘Friday. Gert insisted on it. Eleven o’clock Friday morning at St Mary’s Cathedral.’
‘He was a Catholic?’
‘No, she is. He was everything the voters were on a particular day. If the Mormons or the Holy Rollers could swing the vote in an electorate, he was out there nodding his head to polygamy or clapping his hands and singing “Down by the Riverside”.’
‘Do the Mormons still practise polygamy?’
Ladbroke shrugged again; Malone had never seen him so listless. ‘I don’t know. Anyhow, he’s a Catholic for Friday. St Mary’s jumped at the idea when Gert said she wanted a State funeral. St Andrew’s has had the last three, they’ve all been Anglicans. Friday at St Mary’s they’ll be tossing the incense around like smoke bombs. They might even canonize him.’ For the first time since they had entered the office he smiled. ‘He’d enjoy that.’
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