The Gravedigger's Song by Martyn Waites

Author:Martyn Waites
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2022-07-25T23:23:40+00:00

34

The coffee shop in the University of Falmouth was a glass-and-steel rectangle with open metal supports and glass windows overlooking the campus on Portland Square. The only thing giving it any character were the students. A sunny day saw the braver of them venturing outside, optimistic and coatless, while others populated the blond wood chairs and tables, along with a few lecturers. The words EAT and DRINK hung on banners either side of the entrance, an instruction more than an invitation.

Tom Killgannon sat alone, nursing his white Americano. He checked his watch. Slightly early. Good. He’d be able to spot Ben Tarpley when he arrived.

After meeting Claire Hightower, Tom had thoroughly researched him. There was plenty to read. So much so that Tom wondered why he hadn’t heard of him before. But perhaps it wasn’t so strange. He was reaching an age when some huge cultural things were beginning to pass him by. He hadn’t heard of Stormzy until fairly recently and that was only through Lila. Understandable, because he was hardly the man’s target demographic, but he was gladdened by the discovery. Tom had liked what he heard by Stormzy. What Ben Tarpley said, not so much.

His interviews and speeches were all depressingly familiar. He was a rabble-rousing blowhard of the first order. Apparently, he’d spied a gap in the hate speech market for someone to articulate and boost the signal of those with unpleasant and abhorrent far-right opinions, making their words palatable and even acceptable for a mainstream audience—while, of course, monetizing his ideas in the process. He was an articulate Nigel Farage with a degree, a cut-rate Jordan Peterson wannabe, all the while hiding hate speech behind the banner of free speech.

Tarpley’s rhetoric was the usual demagoguery: demonizing foreigners, especially nonwhites and those of different religions. A belief system where all that fear could be externalized and utilized without any thought or inner reflection. Doubts erased, questions ignored. A terrified, and terrifying, luxuriance of hatred. And Tarpley’s Get Out of Jail Free card? It couldn’t be hate speech because he was a well-educated and well-spoken academic.

Clever but limited, thought Tom. He’d come across Tarpley’s type before in his undercover work with the police. They fleeced their followers and acolytes for every hate-tinged penny they could get while only truly believing in the money that fattened their bank accounts and the gullibility of the marks providing it. It was all an act, a game as realistic and honest as professional wrestling. And people fell for it. Embraced it and believed in it.

Tom didn’t have long to wait. Ben Tarpley entered the coffee shop as if expecting to be seen, disappointed if he was ignored. No one paid him any attention, Tom noticed. He stood poised like a Soviet-era poster come to life: back straight, deportment slow, head held high, jaw firm, resolute even. His frame was slight but his self-confidence radiated an impression of strength. He dressed like a successful bank manager or talk show host, not a university lecturer.

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