‘Bullshit!’

He raised his glass. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, Cliff Hardy.’ He took a long pull on the middy.

‘What sort of bribes?’

‘All sorts. For impeding the course of justice, for passing information, for intimidating witnesses.’

I said ‘Bullshit’ again, which wasn’t much help to anyone.

‘You don’t have to tell me, mate. I’ve been lying awake over it for six weeks.’

‘What’re you supposed to have done with the money?’

‘There was a bookie who I placed a lot of bets with, apparently. Since gone on a long holiday-no one knows where. I bought a car and wrecked it-dealer no longer in business, it seems.’

I finished my beer and tried for a lighter note. ‘It just doesn’t sound like you, Frank. ‘Course, you never know.’

‘That’s right, but I’ll tell you this-when all this was supposed to be happening, I was too bloody tired to have a split personality.’

‘Set up?’

‘Right.’ He went over for another round. Frank is a fraction fuller than me; he used to be a little heavier but he wasn’t anymore. The waistband of his pants was crinkled where his belt had drawn it in a notch or two. He came back with the drinks and set them down.

‘I’d give the world for a smoke.’ His face under the blue beard-shadow had a hollow, eaten-out look.

‘Fight it’, I said. ‘Build your character. You must have some idea of why you got screwed.’

‘Yeah, well, to tell the truth, the problem is an over-supply of ideas. In this game what d’you make but enemies? Don’t get hurt, Cliff.’

‘I’ll try not to. Treading on toes internally, as it were?’

He grinned. ‘Jesus, you butcher the language. Yeah, every day. Impossible not to. Ah, I don’t know. It happens. I’m not the first.’

‘What’re you going to do? Take up drinking professionally?’