LITMIR.BIZ

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then,’ said the guard.

      ‘Hey, man, why so rude?’ asked Joe. ‘OK, you’ve got a job to do, but maybe you should remember who’s paying you and do it politely.’

      ‘Sorry,’ said the guard. ‘Piss off, sir!’

      Joe regarded him almost admiringly. Dick Hull, manager of the Glit where they liked their humour subtle, should book this guy for Show Nite.

      Meanwhile he stood there, like the big dog they’d told him about at school, guarding the entrance to hell, though why anyone should have wanted to get into hell Joe had never quite grasped. But the way to get round him was toss him something to eat.

      Trouble was, Joe couldn’t think of anything this guy might have an appetite for except maybe his head.

      ‘Joe Sixsmith? Is that you?’

      A burly balding man in a tracksuit had come out of the door leading into the depths of the Dome. He was smiling at Joe.

      ‘Yeah, this is me,’ admitted Joe.

      ‘Thought it was. Don’t recognize me, do you?’

      In fact the man’s creased and weather-beaten face did look familiar. But there was a sense of a thinner, younger face peering out of fortyish flesh which was more, though differently, familiar.

      ‘Jim Hardiman,’ said the man. ‘We were at school together.’

      It was the nose that finally did it.

      ‘You mean Hooter Hardiman?’ said Joe.

      A shadow touched the smile like a crow floating across the sun.

      ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Long time no see, eh?’

      But in fact Joe had seen Hardiman several times both in the local paper and on the telly since he had come to prominence, first as Zak’s trainer, then as sports director of the Plezz. He felt ashamed as a PI that he’d never made the connection between the grown man, Jim, and the schoolboy, Hooter. His excuse was that the nose which had stood out like a chilli on a cheesecake at fifteen had been absorbed and assimilated by forty. Also the boy had been a class above him and they’d never had much more contact than the usual ritual bullying a schoolboy heavy feels it necessary to dish out to whoever gets in his way in order to encourage the others.

      But now it was best-years-of-our-lives time.

      ‘Heard a lot about you recently, Joe, and often meant to look you up. Have a chat about the good old times we had together.’

      Would take all of ten seconds, thought Joe.

      He said, ‘That would be great, Hoo … er, Jim. But I’m here to see Zak just now. Any idea where she is?’

      ‘Zak? She expecting you?’

      ‘That’s right, Mr Hardiman. Ms Oto told me to look out for him.’

      This was the gung-ho guard unexpectedly coming to his support.

      Joe said, ‘You knew that, why all this guard-dog crud?’

      ‘Thought you were just a pushy fan, didn’t I? Ms Oto didn’t tell me you’d look like … how you look.’

      A diplomat already, thought Joe.

      Hardiman said, Thanks, Dave. Come on, Joe. Let me show you the way.’

      He set off into the Dome with Joe following. The place was full of workmen.

      ‘You going to be ready on time?’ said Joe, gingerly edging past WET PAINT signs.

      ‘No sweat,’ said Hardiman. ‘Gilding the lily is all. Time for a quick word.’

      It wasn’t a question. As he uttered the words he opened a door marked DIRECTOR OF PHYSICAL RECREATION, a title rather larger than the office he ushered Joe into. There were lots of files and correspondence in evidence, but all neatly stacked. To Joe, who could create chaos out of two sheets of paper and an empty desk, it looked like the workplace of a busy but well-ordered man.

      ‘Have a pew,’ said Hardiman, ‘and tell me what this is all about.’

      ‘Can’t do that, Hoo … er, Jim,’ said Joe. ‘Private business.’

      ‘So you’re here professionally?’

      So it wasn’t Hooter who suggested me, thought Joe as he shrugged noncommittally.

      ‘OK. But I need to know if this is anything to do with that stupid business about that phone call.’

      Another shrug. It was pretty good this shrugging business. Saved a man a lot of tripping over his tongue.

      ‘I’ll take that as a yes. Listen, Joe, I appreciate you got a duty of confidentiality, but I’ve got duties too, and anything to do with the New Year meeting is my business. Zak told me about the call, I told her it was the price of fame, some nutter, ignore it. I thought I got through. What’s happened? There been more?’

      Joe varied the shrug with a little hand movement, sort of French, he felt.

      ‘OK, so there’s been more. Listen, Joe, I’ve got to know this. Is Zak seriously thinking about scratching because of this crap?’

      There didn’t seem any harm in saying, ‘No, I don’t think scratching’s an option,’ till he’d said it, after which he realized it implied agreement with all that had gone before. But shoot, not even a Frenchman could shrug forever.

      ‘Thank God for that. But if she’s so worried, why hire you? Why not talk to me again, or go to the police?’

      Back to the shrug.

      ‘I’ll tell you why,’ said Hardiman after a moment’s pause for thought. ‘The girl’s worried someone close to her may be involved. And if that’s right, if it’s someone in her family, Zak wouldn’t want that to get public. She’s a loyal girl.’

      Wasn’t so loyal to you, thought Joe.

      He said, ‘Why should she think someone in her family could be out to harm her? Thought she was the apple of their eye.’

      ‘I take it you haven’t met her sister?’ said Hardiman. ‘Zak might be the apple of her parents’ eyes, but she’s the pip up sister Mary’s nose.’

      With a mental sigh, Joe abandoned all shrugs and pretence. This sounded too important to miss.

      He said, ‘What’s the set-up? Young sister having all the talent, getting all the attention?’

      ‘Half right,’ said Hardiman. ‘But Mary was talented too, very talented. Squash was her game, and she was good. I’ve known her a long time. She used to work out at the gym where I took my athletes for weight training. From thirteen, fourteen on she had just one idea in her mind. She was going to be the world’s Number One Woman, and nothing was going to get in her way. And I think she might have made it too if it hadn’t been for the accident.’

      ‘Hey, I think I remember something of that in the Bugle,’ said Joe. ‘Car smash, wasn’t it?’

      ‘That’s right. She was driving her parents to see Zak run. They were shaken and bruised, nothing more, but Mary got her knee mangled. End of hopes.’

      Joe said, ‘You tell that story like there’s a lot more to it, Jim.’

      ‘Sensitive soul, aren’t you?’ said Hardiman. ‘Listen, I’m into confidentiality too. Was a time when Zak used to tell me everything. There are things I figure you ought to know because of this situation you’ve got yourself into. But I don’t want Zak knowing it comes from me, you understand me, Joe?’

      Back to the playground, Hooter’s voice soft, but his eyes oh so hard and menacing.

      ‘Just tell me what you want to tell me, Jim,’ said Joe mildly.

      Hardiman looked like this wasn’t the cued response, then

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