1979 by Val McDermid

Author:Val McDermid [McDermid, Val]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thriller
ISBN: 9780802159021
Google: Ow4mEAAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0802159028
Publisher: Hachette UK
Published: 2021-08-18T23:00:00+00:00

30

They hadn’t even left the pub car park in Stranraer when Malloch cut to the chase. ‘So what did you tell him?’ he demanded when Bell reached Robinson’s crucial question.

‘The truth. That Paul’s gran bought him five Premium Bonds when he was born, and one of them came up last month. And Paul’s more than happy to spend a grand on the struggle.’

Malloch gave a delighted laugh. ‘What did he say to that?’

‘“Sure, isn’t it the Irish that are supposed to have the luck?”’ Bell’s impression of an Irish accent was excruciating, but neither of them cared. ‘Then he burst out laughing and said it was very fucking ironic that a state lottery should fund the overthrow of its own power. I hadn’t thought about it like that, but I guess he’s right. I mean, a state lottery? That’s exactly what the Premium Bonds are.’

‘So are we on?’ Malloch’s left knee was bouncing up and down, his fingers drumming on the dashboard.

‘I don’t know. It’s too soon to say. Terry’s just one member of the cell, so he’s got to pass it up to the next in command, and he’ll pass it to a brigade commander. He said it might probably go all the way up to the Army Council.’

‘How long’s that going to take? It’s not like we’ve got forever. It’s only a matter of weeks till the referendum. We need to shake the place to its foundations before then, Ding-dong.’

Bell started the engine and manoeuvred his way through the piles of frozen slush to the road. ‘I don’t know,’ he said mutinously. ‘There’s nothing I can do to make it happen faster. I told Terry it was urgent.’

Malloch’s laughter had a curdled quality to it. ‘Who knew the revolution was just as fucking bureaucratic as the government we’ve already got? I tell you, it’ll be a different story in an independent Scotland.’

The Clock Café at the bottom of Maryhill Road was a generic Formica, plywood and vinyl interior with a thin coating of grease on every surface, including the framed photos of past Partick Thistle teams. Danny deliberately arrived a few minutes early for the Sunday morning rendezvous. He wanted to look eager, but not suspiciously so. Ding-dong Bell had beaten him to it, and was already halfway through a bacon roll. ‘I woke up starving,’ he admitted. ‘All that excitement yesterday, I must’ve worked up an appetite.’

Before Danny could ask for details, Roddy Farquhar and Deke Malloch arrived together. They were, he thought, the least likely bunch of conspirators he could have imagined. Business was postponed while all four ordered a full Scottish breakfast, ‘None of your tomatoes, for God’s sake, we’re no’ jessies,’ and mugs of tea.

‘The suspense is killing me,’ Danny said as the waitress shuffled off. ‘How did it go?’

They all leaned forward, heads close together, and sat rapt while Bell retold his tale. When he reached the end of what he’d already revealed to Malloch in the car, his partner in crime exultantly exclaimed, ‘How great is that? Now we’ve just got to wait and keep our fingers crossed.

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