14
I began to walk towards the Great Southern. I knew the porter there. As I came through the revolving doors, he said,
“Rough night, Jack?”
“Yeah.”
“None of us getting any younger.”
I palmed him a few notes, said,
“Get us a pint and a half one.”
The Southern, of course, is not an early house. Good Lord, God forbid. It does have a huge lobby with secluded corners. If you need a cure in tranquil seclusion, you won’t do better.
Had just slunk down in a vast armchair when a man appeared. I thought it was my drinks. No…Brendan Flood. He said,
“I saw you come in.”
“Not now… OK?”
“I have the information you require.”
I was about to tap the envelope and say,
“Me, too.”
But he sat down.
What I most didn’t want was him seeing me on the booze and first thing of a morning. Everything w
