Read Online Appeal Denied: A Cliff Hardy Novel by Peter Corris - Free Book Online Page A

bell. Townsend came quickly to the door, opened the security screen and almost took a backward step.
    ‘What happened to you?’
    I hadn’t given any thought to my appearance, but when I looked down I saw that my pants were torn at the knees and when I touched the bump on my forehead my hand came away wet.
    ‘Come inside and get cleaned up.’
    The immaculate exterior of the house was reproduced inside. Townsend showed me down a short passage of polished boards to a bathroom with all mod cons—spa bath, ceiling radiator, heated towel rails.
    ‘Use what you want,’ Townsend said, ‘and I’ll make you a drink. Scotch, is it?’
    ‘Thanks. A bloody big one.’
    I ran water, used a flannel and towel, and dumped them in the basket provided. I’ve got a milk crate for the purpose, better ventilated. I found bandaids in a drawer and laid one over the graze just below the hairline and above the boxing scars that puckered my eyebrows. I rinsed my hands and mouth and felt considerably better. Out in the passage I heard Townsend talking and went towards the sound.
    He was sitting at a pine table in the kitchen with a glass in hand and using his mobile. There was a bottle of Dewar’s, another glass, a carafe of water and ice in a bowl on the table.
    ‘Gotta go,’ Townsend said and hung up. ‘Sorry, Hardy. Have a drink. I wasn’t sure of your … proportions.’
    I sat and poured a generous measure of the whisky and added ice. I took a long pull and poured some more. I was suddenly very tired and wanted to close my eyes.
    ‘Thanks,’ I said after another drink. ‘Looks like I landed in the right place.’
    ‘Is anything hurting? You need painkillers?’
    I held up my glass. ‘This’ll do.’
    You gotta trust somebody , and anybody who offers you the whole bottle has a good chance of getting the nod. I was in a mood to talk and couldn’t see any reason to hold back, so I told Townsend everything from whoa to go. He kept quiet and didn’t react, even when I said that Tim Arthur had badmouthed him. I made no excuses about my carelessness in protecting the record of Lily’s work, and admitted that I had my doubts about Gregory’s involvement. I didn’t mention Harry Tickener’s reference to the small man syndrome.
    I worked my way through the scotch in my glass and eyed the bottle when I finished.
    ‘I’ve got a spare room,’ Townsend said. ‘You can stay the night if you’re worried about driving over the limit.’
    I poured another solid one. ‘Thanks. About all I need right now is for the cops to pick me up driving pissed. What d’you make of it all?’
    ‘How much do you remember of Arthur’s translation of Lily’s codes and initials?’
    ‘Good point. Got a pen and paper? That fucker took my notebook, not that there was anything in it.’
    Townsend went into an adjacent room and came out with a pen and a lined pad. I printed out POW, BW, SB and VER with their equivalents, but not many of the scrambled initials came back to me. I put down IRS, IAD and HON but without any confidence—they could’ve just been echoes of familiar initials. I tore off the sheet and passed it to Townsend, telling him the initials could all be wrong.
    ‘Not a hell of a lot of help,’ he said. ‘The upside is that it wouldn’t be much help to the opposition either.’
    ‘No. There was enough detail in the stories, as I’ve outlined them to you, to tell anyone involved what line she was following. He, she, they have the advantage now.’
    ‘She?’
    I shrugged. ‘Avoiding sexism.’
    ‘Cute. Sorry. This has thrown me a bit. I thought we were on the right lines with Gregory, but you have your doubts. I don’t know anything about this Kristos. From what you said, the line on him is a bit ragged.’
    ‘Yeah. Frank didn’t know anything about him either, and the identification of him as the one haring away with my computer is very iffy. I’ve been told he was big and that was a strong arm that went round my neck, but