Fletcher sat there glaring and Morgan slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Come on, Jesse.’
Paddy Costello was already on his way and Fletcher followed. In the doorway, Morgan paused and turned. ‘Sometimes you can push people just a little too hard. Ever thought of that?’
‘You’re a good talker,’ Rogan said. ‘Keep it up long
enough and you might convince yourself you could do something about me.’
Morgan’s face turned very pale and all light died in his eyes. ‘I did two years in a Chinese prison camp in Korea, Rogan, did you know that? When they released me, I had a double hernia from the number of times the guards had booted me in the crotch and T.B. in one lung.’
‘So?’ Rogan said.
‘When I got home, I found that nobody gave a damn. They didn’t seem to know a war had been going on.’
‘What’s that supposed to prove-that you had an excuse?’
Morgan laughed harshly. ‘I haven’t needed one since the day I was old enough to work out the odds in this lousy world for myself. I’ll tell you one thing, friend. If I could survive those Chinese bastards, I can survive you. Just think about that.’
He went along the passage and Rogan smiled softly. Nothing like an open declaration of war to let you know where you stood. He hung his raincoat behind the door, took the Colt automatic from his pocket and pushed it down into his waistband at the rear so that it was covered by the tail of his jacket, the butt hard against the small of his back. He buttoned his jacket at the front and went along to the kitchen.
It was an uncomfortable meal and eaten in complete silence. Hannah moved from one to the other, refilling cups with fresh tea and bringing more bread from the dresser. On the occasions that she managed to catch Rogan’s eye, her face was strained and anxious.
Finally, he pushed back his chair and said calmly, ‘That’ll do me for now. Let’s go back to the living room.’
Fletcher looked angrily at Morgan who made a slight gesture with his head and stood up. Fletcher followedhim. out of the door, Costello trailing after them.
Hannah moved across to Rogan quickly. ‘There’s going to be trouble, Sean. I feel it.’
‘Don’t worry,’ He smiled. T know what I’m doing. You
stay here.’
When he went into the living room, no one said a word. He picked up the bottle of whisky and a tumbler from the sideboard and sat on the edge of the table.
Tunny how you remember things. The last time I robbed a train was in France in ’44. We had it all laid on to knock off one that was carrying a month’s pay for a German Panzer Division. It would have been quite a haul.’
‘What went wrong?’ Morgan said.
‘We never really found out. The important thing was that instead of the payroll, the train carried a company of German paratroops armed to the teeth and spoiling for action and let nobody kid you, those boys were good.’
‘Somebody grassed?’ Fletcher said, interested in spite of himself.
‘One of three possibilities,’ Rogan said. ‘The first was a local farmer whose place we’d been using as headquarters for a while. He wet himself every time an ivy leaf tapped on the window.’
Costello flushed and looked away hurriedly and Rogan went on, ‘Then there was a lovely specimen who’d been inside for just about every crime in the book. A big man at beating hell out of the prostitutes on the Marseilles waterfront when they objected to handing over half their takings.’
Fletcher’s hand shook with rage as he raised his glass of whisky to his mouth and drained it and Morgan said calmly, ‘What about the third?’
‘He was the most dangerous of the lot. He’d even done three years in a Jesuit seminary training for the priesthood.’ Rogan tapped his forehead. ‘A hoodlum with brains. The worst kind there is. Pure evil.’
‘Lucifer, Prince of Darkness. The fallen angel,’ Morgan said. ‘Now that, I find interesting. What happened?’
‘We took them out into the forest, what was left of us, and shot them.’