Two Women Read Online Free PDF Page B

– of the supposed Colossus who could not have stood guard, legs astride, over any empire. Most certainly – and provably – not over his own, which wasn’t his at all but which had been allowed and granted him, in return for his usefulness.
    â€˜You’re going to give them all the records?’ Itself a criminal – certainly a professional – offence but that no longer seemed a consideration.
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜But you’re making copies?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Over so long you’re talking in tons!’
    â€˜Things went back, after the statutory limitation. It’s just what’s in my personal section of the vault.’
    â€˜Where are the copies?’ Carver repeated.
    â€˜Safe,’ insisted Northcote.
    â€˜Where are the copies?’ persisted Carver.
    â€˜Not all together yet. You’ll know, when they are. And where they are.’
    â€˜Don’t you think they’ll expect – suspect at least – you’ll do this?’
    â€˜There’s no reason why they should. Everything’s amicable.’
    Both men shook their heads to the offered humidor but both ordered brandy, Carver deciding he genuinely needed it. He said: ‘Only for as long as they choose to let it be amicable.’
    â€˜I told you, you watch too much television.’
    Carver had to push the calmness into his voice. ‘George. Don’t you have any idea how serious … dangerously serious … all this is!’
    â€˜This is not Chicago in the twenties, Al Capone and machine guns. I know these people. Have done, over a lot of years.’
    He was wasting his time, Carver realized, incredulously. ‘I’ll need more than the location.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Names.’
    â€˜It’ll involve you.’
    â€˜I am involved, for Christ’s sake!’ said Carver, in continued exasperation.
    â€˜Let me think on it.’ Northcote smiled abruptly over his brandy snifter. ‘I’m driving up with Jane this afternoon.’
    â€˜I know. What about Friday?’
    â€˜It’ll all be settled by then. You got everything in hand?’
    Carver didn’t answer, looking across the table at his father-in-law, who stared back. Finally Northcote said: ‘I’ll make the formal retirement announcement in the keynote speech. Everything will be confirmed by Friday.’
    Carver acknowledged that he’d condoned a crime: crime after crime after crime, more crimes than could be counted. Which had – astonishingly – been easy. All so logical. All so acceptable. All – all and every aspect of it – so illegal. Was he prepared to go with that? Was he ready, prepared, to be Superman in the red shorts? Or Eliot Ness? Or John Carver, trying to preserve an empire from crumbling? He said: ‘You were my icon. You were Jane’s icon. Everyone’s icon. God.’
    â€˜Grow up, John.’
    â€˜I just have,’ said Carver. ‘I didn’t enjoy it.’
    Alice was already at their table, at their place – the place in the Village he couldn’t remember choosing for those early lunches but which had become their place since. Everyone called everyone by their first names, the moment they were regulars. A very different club from the Harvard: a preferred club even. In which he felt comfortable. Easy. Here – despite the suit in which he definitely felt un comfortable – he was John: anonymous John, no one John. In the Harvard Club he was Mr Carver. Or more often, sir. Rich son-in-law of richer father-in-law, both of whom could order, as they had carelessly ordered, $250 lunches and not eat anything, nor drink more than a token sip of their matchingly expensive wine. Alice was drinking beer.
    He said: ‘Sorry I’m late.’
    She shrugged. ‘Not a problem.’
    How many more times was that phrase going to jar through his mind. ‘Beer?’
    â€˜I was thirsty,