‘First sign of madness that, Comrade,’ said Bill Reed. ‘Talking to yourself.’
‘What do you want now?’ asked Terry.
Bill Reed put an envelope down on the table. Bill Reed said, ‘Gotcha, Comrade.’
Malcolm drank instant coffee. Malcolm smoked duty-free cigarettes –
Malcolm watched and Malcolm listened —
Every minute. Every hour. Every day. Every week. Every month. Every year —
The shadows and the whispers. In his thoughts and in his dreams —
Hotel doors. Hotel doors slammed —
I want you I want you I want you now –
Hotel beds. Hotels beds creaked —
I love you I love you I love you for ever –
Hotel headboards. Hotel headboards banged —
I have you I have you I have you here –
Hotel walls. Hotel walls shook —
I hate you –
Blood on hotel walls and hotel floors, hotel beds and hotel doors —
Malcolm opened his eyes. He unwrapped the bandages. Took the cotton wooloutof his ears. Bloody and wet —
Malcolm put on his headphones —
‘I HATE YOU!’
Every single minute of every single hour of every single day of every single week of every single month of every single year of his whole fucking life —
The ghosts without. The ghosts within —
Operation Vengeance –
Public and private. Personal.
The Jew hasn’t been to sleep. He’s too anxious. He doesn’t wait for the doorman or Neil. He opens the back door of the Mercedes himself. He fidgets on the backseat –
He wants to tighten the screw further –
He rambles on about Enterprise Oil. The GLC. The House of Lords –
About loose screws.
He is wearing his dark blue pinstripe suit, his pale blue shirt with a white silk tie –
He has a boot full of pale blue notes to donate to his true-blue secret cells –
‘Our men have control of the Nottinghamshire Area Council,’ the Jew boasts. ‘We have our bridgehead now, Neil. The intimidation stops here.’
The car phone rings. The Jew pounces. Listens –
‘What?’ shouts the Jew into the phone. ‘What?’
Neil Fontaine looks into the rearview mirror.
The Jew hangs up. He bangs on the partition. He wails, ‘Stop the car, Neil!’
Neil Fontaine pulls over onto the hard shoulder. He switches on the hazard lights.
The Jew gets out. The Jew paces the verge –
Neil Fontaine joins him.
The Jew looks up. He says, ‘Be a pal and pass me a coffin nail, Neil.’
Neil Fontaine hands the Jew a cigarette. He lights it for him.
The Jew inhales. He coughs and he coughs. The Jew exhales.
Neil Fontaine watches the Jew choke again.
The Jew throws away the cigarette. The Jew says, ‘There’s a dock strike, Neil.’
Neil Fontaine nods. Neil Fontaine knows.
‘She wants answers, Neil,’ says the Jew. ‘Heads.’
Neil Fontaine nods again. Neil Fontaine knows –
The Jew coughs. The Jew spits. The Jew clambers back into the back of the car.
Neil Fontaine starts the car. Puts his foot down –
One spark —
The Immingham bulk terminal out over the use of unsupervised non-scheme labour to unload iron-ore pellets at a registered port –
The Jew opens his window. The Jew screams into the road and the wind –
‘This is a disaster. An absolute, utter disaster. Exactly what we didn’t want, Neil. This is a second front. A second bloody front. Exactly what he wanted —’
Neil Fontaine has a slight smile on his face. The road rising –
The one spark –
The lorries would work round the clock for forty-eight hours to move at least half the Immingham stockpile to the Scunthorpe steel works—
Neil Fontaine nods. Neil Fontaine knew a set-up when he saw one –
This was a set-up.
Neil Fontaine stops before the gates and the guns and winds down his window –
Neil Fontaine says, ‘Mr Stephen Sweet to see the Prime Minister.’
The officer speaks into his radio.
Neil Fontaine glances into the rearview mirror. The Jew is sweating again –
His pinstripe soaked.
The officer steps back from the car. The officer gestures at the gates –
The guns rise. The gates open.
Neil Fontaine starts the car.
‘Doubt she’ll be in a very good mood,’ says the Jew for the third time.
Neil Fontaine drives slowly over the gravel. He parks before the front door.
There is no one here to meet the car today –
Neil Fontaine has to open the back door of the Mercedes for the Jew.
The Jew gets out. The Jew goes up to the front door –
The door opens.
The Jew turns back to look at Neil. The Jew nods. The Jew gives a little wave –
The Jew has tickets for Wimbledon. The final –
The Jew planned to take Fred, Don and James. Their special treat.
Fred, Don and James will have to go on their own now –
The Jew is due out on the real centre court today –
And he has left his aviator sunglasses and his panama hat on the backseat.
Neil Fontaine starts the car again. He parks in the empty garage. He sits in the car. He can smell the exhaust fumes. He can hear the peacocks scream –
Neil Fontaine is thinking of Vincent Taylor and Julius Schaub –
One spark, he thinks. That’s all it ever takes –
David Johnson and Malcolm Morris –
One spark to burn the whole thing down —
Jennifer Johnson.
Malcolm took the weekend off. He drove North. He ate dinner at Da Marios on the Headrow in Leeds. Deep-fried garlic mushrooms. Lasagne. A bottle of the house red. He smoked two cigarettes. He finished with coffee. Drove home to Harrogate. He put the car in the garage. He went into the house. Picked up the post. The papers from the mat. He left his briefcase in the hall. Took off his tie. He made a cup of instant coffee. He went into the lounge. Drew the curtains. He switched on the lights. The stereo. He went over to the shelves. The many shelves which lined every wall of the room. He took down the double-cassette boxof Jeff Wayne’s The War of the Worlds –
Malcolm opened the box. Two cassettes inside —
He took out the first cassette. Tape 1. He put it in the stereo. Side A.
Malcolm unwrapped his bandages. Took the cotton wool out of his ears —
He lowered the volume. He adjusted the tone. He pressed play —
The Eve of the War started. Four minutes later The Eve of the War stopped —
There were other noises on the tape now —
Other noises from other rooms. Other rooms, other sounds –
The wheels turning. The wheels within wheels —
The sound of a door opening. The sound of footsteps coming –
Malcolm pressed stop. Forward. Stop —
Silence. Just the silence. Pregnant –
Two bloody wet cotton-wool balls in his hands, Malcolm pressed play —
Screams. Just her screams –
Stop. Rewind. Stop. Play. Malcolm played it all back –