The Thirtieth Week
Monday 24 — Sunday 30 September 1984
He has the introduction. The connection. He makes the call. The appointment –
The Mechanic drives North. Far North. Into Scotland –
The dogs in the back.
He takes the A66 from Scotch Corner to Penrith. The A74 from Carlisle to Glasgow. Thenthe A82 all the waypastGlencoe–
Towards the General. In his castle on Loch Linnhe.
The President had met the Leader of the Labour Party. The President and the Leader had had constructive discussions. The President was to speak at the Labour Party Conference in Blackpool next week –
The President would speak, and this time they would listen –
The whole country would listen now.
The Dock Strike might be over. There might be other court actions –
But NACODS had rendered all these things academic.
NACODS were set to strike. Power cuts were but weeks away –
General Winter on the march, and so was his namesake.
Terry picked up the phone on his desk. Click-click. Terry dialled Bath –
‘It’s almost over, love,’ said Terry. ‘Please come home.’
Then Terry hung up. Click-click. Then Terry picked it up again. Click-click.
*
The footsteps in the dark corridor. The knock at the door. The turn of the handle –
The news he dreaded. The news they all dreaded:
The NACODS men at Sutton have voted for strike action by 90 per cent –
‘Ninety per cent!’ screams the Jew. ‘It’s the most moderate pit in the country!’
The Jew blames the Chairman for this. The Jew hates the Chairman for this –
It was the Chairman who had threatened these men with the sack –
The Jew wonders sometimes who really pays the Chairman’s wages –
Moscow or Margaret?
The telephones start to ring. The faxes start to come –
More footsteps in the corridor. More knocks at the door. Turns of the handle –
There will be no safety cover when NACODS strike. There can be no mining without safety cover. There will be no mining, so there can be no working miners. There will be noworking miners, so there can be nocoal –
‘No fucking coal!’ shouts the Jew. ‘No fucking coal!’
The Jew throws his biscuit tins across his office –
The blue pins. The yellow pins.
‘He will have won!’ shrieks the Jew. ‘He will have fucking won!’
The Jew falls to the floor beneath the huge, crooked map of the British coalfield –
The map covered only in red pins.
‘He will have won and we will have lost!’ screams the Jew. ‘Lost!’
The Jew sobs. The Jew weeps –
‘Everything will be ruined,’ whispers the Jew. ‘Ruined.’
His men come for the Mechanic at the Ballachulish Hotel. His men march into the bar in uniform. His men march the Mechanic out. His men put the Mechanic in the backof a Land-Rover. Hismenblindfold the Mechanic. His men drive the Mechanic away from the Ballachulish Hotel. His men stop to open metal gates. His men leave the roads marked on maps. His men speak into radios. His men talk in codes. His men stop to open another metal gate. His men drive uphill. His men slow down. His men come to a dead stop. His men remove the Mechanic’s blindfold. His men open the back of the Land-Rover. His men order the Mechanic out. His men lead the Mechanic through a training camp. His men march the Mechanic into a castle. Through the courtyard. Up the stairs. To stand before his door. His men knock. His men leave –