Vacuum Read Online Free PDF

Ralph’s chief business? Of course, she knew this to be the drugs trade, and on a mighty scale. She’d have to be half-witted not to know. Although there was also The Monty – a drinking club he owned, cherished, and had crazy hopes for – as an earner, it didn’t rate. In any case, Monty profits had to be declared for tax, meaning it rated even less. No question, the bulk of the family’s income came from substances supply. She, like Ralph himself and the children, lived on this money, this gorgeously ample, freely-flowing, thoroughly-criminal wealth. The source was not discussed. Harpur’s strutting, dandified boss, Iles, blind-eyed the trade, because of some special, personal theory. He treated the city as if it belonged to him and he could apply what laws he fancied, and the reverse. His attitude and behaviour did confuse the picture a little. But drug dealing remained a grave offence. Margaret knew that.
    She also knew some people suffered appalling damage from drugs, including many youngsters. The Pope had spoken of the ‘serpent of drug trafficking’ – and sometimes the Pope got things right. She watched her daughters. Drugs could derange and destroy. Yet she and the family continued to enjoy these splendid, racketeered profits. They lived in a dignified, handsome manor house, Low Pastures, with paddocks, stables, ponies, noble chimneys, a library, and a long, curved, tree-lined drive, part gravelled, part tarmacked. Centuries ago a foreign consul had occupied Low Pastures, and, later, a Lord Lieutenant of the county. It ought to reek of wholesome distinction.
    Margaret loved the property, but wasn’t always at ease there. She felt like someone who would never deliberately hurt an animal but who loved foie gras , so made herself ignore the cruelty that produced it. The actual nature of Ralph’s core business stayed unmentioned. He commandeered that gaudy term ‘entrepreneur’ to describe, or fail to describe, his activities. So much more elevated and vague than ‘baron’ – the flawed kind of baron Ralph was; much more flaw than baron. And Margaret let him sidestep like that; cowardly of her, again? The children seemed to be following. Naturally, there had been talk about the deaths of Naomi Shale and Laurent, but only general, regretful, disgusted comments; nothing potentially troublesome.
    The Embers inherited a plaque fixed to one of the gates at Low Pastures by some earlier owner. Inscribed on it in elegant white lettering was ‘ Mens cuiusque is est quisque ’ – a tag from an ancient phrase-monger, apparently. Ralph cleaned it and checked the screws for corrosion every few weeks. He didn’t know any Latin, of course, but had found a couple of translations on the Internet: ‘the mind of each man is the man himself’ or ‘a man’s mind is what he is’. Not many people knew what Ralph’s mind was, though. She didn’t, not altogether. Ralph himself might not be totally sure. Harpur probably got as close as anyone. She reckoned Harpur had quite a mind himself, despite his job. To keep Iles from a breakout into catastrophe, anyone would need quite a mind.
    â€˜I wonder, too, what would have happened if Mansel Shale himself had been shot, as most seem to think was the real intention,’ she said. They talked in the drawing room, Ralph standing alongside the long, mahogany Regency sideboard, Margaret seated on a chesterfield.
    â€˜Who seem to think the real objective was Manse?’
    â€˜It’s the impression I get.’
    â€˜But where from?’
    â€˜The media coverage. General talk. And it would appear logical, don’t you think, Ralph?’
    â€˜Logical how?’
    â€˜Very credible.’
    â€˜In what way?’
    â€˜Some sort of struggle for dominance, leading to the ambush.’
    â€˜You’re talking Darwinism.’
    â€˜Turf rivalries.’
    â€˜Who