Paper Money Read Online Free PDF Page A

leave a club with the girl, and phoned the
    information to a reporter. The informant had built the incident up for
    dramatic effect. But Tim was sure no one had seen them enter the flat
    together.
     
    "Listen," he said. "Last night you said you weren't feeling well. I took
    you out of the club and got a taxi. The cab dropped me off then took you
    home. All right?"
     
    "Whatever you say," she said uninterestedly.
     
    Her attitude infuriated him. "For God's sake, this involves you!"
     
    "I think my part in it is over.
     
    "What does that mean?"
     
    There was a knock at the door.
     
    Tim said: "Oh, Jesus, no."
     
    The girl zipped up her dress. "I'll go."
     
    "Don't be such a damn fool." He grabbed her arm. "You mustn't be seen
    here, don't you understand? Stay here in the bedroom. I'll open the
    door. If I have to ask them in, just keep quiet until they go."
     
    He put on his underwear shorts and struggled into his dressing gown as
    he crossed the living room. There was a tiny hall, and a front door with
    a peephole. Tim swung the flap aside and put an eye to the glass.
     
    The man outside looked vaguely familiar. He had the face of a boxer.
     
    Broad-shouldered and well built, he would have been a heavyweight. He
    wore a gray coat with a velvet collar. Tim put his age at late twenties.
    He did not look like a newspaper reporter.
     
    Tim unbolted the door and opened it. "What is it?" he said.
     
    Without speaking, the man pushed Tim aside, stepped in, and closed the
    door behind him. He walked into the living room.
     
    Tim took a deep breath and tried not to panic.
     
    He followed the man. "I'm going to call the police," he said.
     
    The man sat down. He called: "Are you in there, Dizi?"
     
    The girl came to the bedroom door.
     
    The man said: "Make us a cup of tea, girl."
     
    "Do you know him?" Tim asked her incredulously.
     
    She ignored him and went into the kitchen. The man laughed. "Know me?
     
    She works for me."
     
    Tim sat down. "What is this all about?" he said weakly.
     
    "All in good time." The man looked around. "I can't say you've got a
    nice place here, because you haven't. I expected you to have something a
    bit flash, know what I mean? By the way, in case you haven't recognized
    me, I'm Tony Cox." He stuck out his hand. Tim ignored it.
     
    Cox said:
     
    "Please yourself."
     
    Tim was remembering the face and the name were familiar. He thought Cox
    was a fairly wealthy businessman, but he could not recall what his
    business was. He thought he had seen the man's picture in a
    newspaper--something to do with raising money for boys' clubs in the
    East End.
     
    Cox jerked his head toward the kitchen. "Did you enjoy her?" "For God's
    sake," Tim said.
     
    The girl came in, carrying two mugs on a tray.
     
    Cox asked her: "Did he enjoy it?" "What do you think?" she said sourly.
     
    Cox took out his wallet and counted out some bills. "Here you are," he
    said to her. "You done a good job. Now you can fuck off."
     
    She took the money and put it in a handbag.
     
    She said: "You know, Tone, I think the thing I like most about you is
    your beautiful manners."
     
    She went out without looking at Tim.
     
    Tim thought: I've made the biggest mistake of my life.
     
    As the girl left, the door slammed.
     
    Cox winked. "She's a good girl."
     
    "She's the lowest form of human life," Tim spat.
     
    "Now, don't be like that. She's just a good actress. She might have got
    into films if I hadn't of found her first."
     
    "I presume you're a ponce."
     
    Anger flashed in Cox's eyes, but he controlled it. "You'll regret that
    little joke," he said mildly.
     
    "All you need to know about me and Dizi is that she does what I tell her
    to. If I say
     
    "Keep your mouth shut," she does. And if I say "Tell the nice man from
    the News of the World how M. Fitzpeterson seduced you," she will. Know
    what I mean?" Tim said: "I suppose it was you who contacted the Evening
    Post."
     
    "Don't worry! Without