by Val McDermid
‘I don’t think he’s listening to me right now.’
Before Allie could say more, the door opened a crack and the newsdesk secretary slipped in. ‘Message from Angus,’ she said. ‘He’s in with the polis and they’re not very happy. He doesn’t want you to talk to them till tomorrow’s paper hits the street, so you’ve to go out the editor’s stairs right now. You’ve not to go home. I’ve booked you a couple of rooms at the Ivanhoe up at the top of Buchanan Street for tonight and Angus says you’ve to get anything you need on expenses. Zat clear?’
Allie was taken aback. She’d never imagined this would be the outcome of an investigation. It felt over-dramatic, as if they were all playing preset roles in a script. ‘We’re on the run?’
The secretary rolled her eyes. ‘Who do you think you are? Princess Leia? You just need to stay out the road till the story lands. And one of you needs to be on the end of a phone at all times.’
Danny nodded. ‘Could you not have booked us in somewhere a wee bit classier?’
‘It’s not a jolly. Besides, nobody’s going to look for youse in a dive like that.’
23
The secretary hadn’t been joking about the Ivanhoe. Its grand entrance was broadly in keeping with the vast House of Fraser department store at the bottom of Buchanan Street. The unloved interior owed more to the dingier end of Sauchiehall Street, where Danny had found himself not long after they’d checked in. ‘I need a walk to clear my head,’ he’d told Allie. ‘Can you hold the fort for an hour?’
Head down, he wove through the crowds braving the icy pavements and the shelves stripped bare by a combination of panic buying and the weather breaking the links in the supply chain. His brother’s words echoed in his head, refusing to grant him peace. ‘Selfish fucking bastard,’ Joseph had said. ‘I knew you were jealous of me, but I never thought you’d go this far. How could you do this? I could go to the jail over this.’
Even if he could have elbowed a word in sideways, Danny had understood the futility of reminding his brother that he was the one who’d chosen the path of criminality. ‘You’ve destroyed me,’ Joseph had continued. ‘Not just me either. You should have seen our mother’s face when Dad showed her the paper this morning. I thought she was going to collapse. You snivelling wee . . . shite.’ The last condemnation delivered at top volume.
As always, Joseph knew how to cause the most damage. As if Danny hadn’t spent days and nights fretting about what his revelations would do to the family. He knew his mother would be distraught. In his head, he ran through the rationale he longed to give his parents. His story would bring down a group of greedy men who weren’t just criminal but also completely immoral. Nobody wanted to pay massive taxes. But if you lived in a society, you paid the price of keeping the show on the road. If you didn’t like the price, you used the ballot box or you went and lived in some other country that didn’t believe in the rich holding out a hand to the poor. He needed his mother to hear this from him, to counter whatever lies and deceptions Joseph had practised on her.
He feared it would be a waste of breath.
His internal argument had taken him almost to the red sandstone tenements of Charing Cross and the motorway that sliced through Sauchiehall Street. He made his mind up and turned abruptly, almost cannoning into a couple of young women cocooned in fun fur and leg warmers. They shouted their outrage as he pushed past. On any other day, he’d have paused and apologised.
Not today. He had more pressing matters to attend to.
Allie paced her cramped bedroom. The floral air freshener caught the back of her throat but it didn’t dispel the underlying odours of other people’s lives. She was going to go mad cooped up here all day with nothing to do, nothing to read. She’d thought she’d at least have Danny for company, but he’d abandoned her within minutes of them checking in. Frustrated, she’d shoved a note under his door asking him to call her as soon as he returned so she could run up to John Smith’s bookshop on St Vincent Street to buy a book. Maybe even swing by Marks and Spencer to get clean underwear?
She threw herself on the shiny nylon bedspread, nearly sliding off as she shifted position. It was hard not to feel deflated after the excitement of the past few days. Was there any way she could sneak out and get to the meeting of the radical independence group that evening? The trio of turbulent young men would presumably be talking up the ideas they’d had over the week. It infuriated her that she wouldn’t be able to find out what they were up to. If they were up to anything, she consoled herself. They wouldn’t be the first young men on the fringes of events who talked a great game and produced nothing.
When the phone rang, she almost ended up in a heap on the floor. ‘Hello,’ she gasped once she’d grabbed the handset.
‘Is that you, Allie?’
It wasn’t Danny. It was better than Danny. ‘Rona?’
‘The same.’
‘How did you know I was here?’
She chuckled. ‘Secretaries know everything and they love showing off that they know everything. Is the Ivanhoe still possessed of all the charm of a rugby player’s jockstrap?’
‘That would be an improvement.’
‘Doesn’t seem fair. You’ve cracked the biggest story of the year so far and they’ve put you in that dump.’
‘Angus thinks the polis won’t come looking for us here.’
Rona groaned. ‘The depressing thing is, he’s probably right. Listen, I know you’re under the cosh today, but we should celebrate your rise to the stars.’
Allie snorted. ‘It’ll be forgotten by Monday.’
‘All the more reason to make the most of it. Lunch tomorrow work for you?’
Allie didn’t hesitate. ‘Perfect.’
‘And afterwards, I’m going to take you shopping. Honest to God, Allie, your wardrobe needs some serious attention.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t get all huffy on me. You’re not making the most of yourself, doll. I don’t mean you should dress like one of the secretaries, all tight skirts and peerie heels. But you’ve got the looks, you should make the most of them. I’ll show you what I mean tomorrow. If you hate the idea, we’ll just have a very long lunch instead.’
Intrigued in spite of herself, Allie gave a hesitant, ‘OK. Just so long as we can swing by a record shop and pick up Elvis Costello’s new album.’
‘I think we can probably manage that. So, meet me at Rogano’s tomorrow at one and we’ll have fun.’ And she was gone. Allie couldn’t help grinning. She barely knew Rona but she knew enough to realise that when she promised fun, she meant it.
Danny’s determination had survived his return march to the hotel. He picked up Allie’s note when he got back to his room, but he laid it to one side. He had something more important to do first. He snatched the phone from its cradle, connected to an outside line and rang his family home.
He’d almost given up by the time the receiver was picked up. His mother recited the familiar number, her voice hollow and tight. ‘Mum? It’s me. Danny.’
A pause. ‘You’ve got some nerve, phoning here. After what you’ve done to your brother.’
‘Mum, I couldn’t ignore—’
‘After all his hard work, he’s done so well for himself. And you do this to him.’
Danny felt his chest tighten. ‘I’ve done nothing to him. I’ve kept his name out—’
‘But he was the one delivering the money. Even though he had no idea what he was carrying or what it was for. You’ve made him look like a criminal.’
‘You really believe he had no idea?’
‘He never questioned what his boss told him to do. He never did anything wrong. He was just doing his job.’
‘So was I, Mum. It’s my job to report when people are breaking the law, and that’s what Paragon have been doing.’ He heard his voice rising, as whiny as when he was a boy
. It was a replay of childhood scenes – Danny being accused of Joseph’s crimes, his denial not being believed.
‘Maybe so, but Joseph was doing no wrong.’
‘Just obeying orders, is that it?’ He scoffed. ‘You really think that lets him off the hook? Mum, you sit in church every Sunday listening to the priest talking about our Christian duty. Can you not see I’m the one doing the right thing here? Paragon are stealing off all of us. People who hide their money from the taxman, they’re not stealing from the government, they’re stealing from you and me, from everybody.’
‘Joseph’s no thief. He’s a decent hard-working boy who’s going to be out of a job because of you. He was sitting here in tears this morning. He’s tried so hard to make something of himself. All he wanted was to make us proud of him. You should be ashamed of yourself, Daniel Sullivan.’ Not a crack in that adamantine defence.
‘If he loses his job, you should be glad he’s not working for a bunch of crooks any more. Because who knows what they would have asked him to do next?’
‘Are you stupid, Danny? If he loses this job, he’ll not get another one. Because he’ll be tarred with your brush. They’re not stupid, the folk who run these companies. They’ll see your name and his name and whatever the truth, they’ll believe it was Joseph who gave the game away to a reporter. Nobody will ever trust him with anything confidential ever again.’
Driven mad with the unfairness of her reaction, Danny lashed out. ‘Neither they should, Mum. Whatever he’s got you believing, Joseph was in this up to his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing.’ He stopped abruptly, shocked at the words that had spilled out.
He heard his mother catch her breath in a stifled sob. Then she said, ‘I never knew you could be so hard-hearted, Danny. It’s not how we brought you up. You’d better not come through on Sunday. Your father’s as disgusted with you as I am. You’ve broken our hearts, Danny. Nobody in this house is going to want to see your face here any time soon.’
The line went dead. Danny stood rigid, gripping the handset with white knuckles, hurt gripping his heart with a physical pain. Why would he expect history not to repeat itself? If he’d ever doubted his place in the family hierarchy, now he knew. Catholic guilt would always trump love. Poor Joseph’s start in life would always, always put Danny on the back foot.
A shudder of grief passed through him and he gently replaced the phone. At least now he’d confirmed where he stood. The choices he’d had to make, all of them, had put him outside the walls of family life.
So be it. He’d live with it.
Danny went into the bathroom and doused his face with cold water. He stared at himself in the mirror, drips running down his cheeks, eyebrows glinting in the light. ‘Fuck it,’ he sighed, and rubbed his face with the towel till his skin felt raw.
24
Allie answered the knock at the door, glad it was Danny at last. But as she took him in, she saw something clenched in the way he held himself. His eyes were febrile, his jaw tight. ‘What’s wrong?’ She gestured to him to enter.
‘Is it that obvious?’ His voice was bitter but he came inside and crossed to the worn armchair by the window.
‘You look . . . I don’t know. Upset?’
He rubbed his fingertips along his cheekbone, as if trying to rub himself out. He swallowed hard. ‘I rang my mum. I—’ He took a breath. ‘I thought I’d better get it over with. Put my side of the story.’ He shook his head.
Allie crouched beside him, covering his free hand with hers. ‘I’m guessing it didn’t go well.’
Danny cleared his throat, visibly gathering himself. ‘Hard to see how it could have gone worse. Like a fucking soap opera. Never darken our doors again. Poor Joseph, the innocent dragged through the mud by his evil wee brother.’
‘I’m sorry, Danny. That’s so unfair.’
‘I shouldn’t be surprised, Allie. That’s how it’s always been. Poor wee lamb, he had such a terrible start in life, we have to make it up to him. Not like Danny, a wanted child, born into a loving home. I never get to forget how lucky I am compared with Joseph. He’s always got away with everything. Lying, cheating, stealing, and always laying the blame on me. “Danny started it. It wisnae me, it was Danny.” All my life, that’s what I’ve heard. So why would I think this time would be any different?’
‘But you know you’re right, Danny. You were right to follow your instincts and do the story.’
‘I might have been right, Allie.’ He looked straight at her, his eyes moist. ‘But I’m not so sure it was worth it.’
Allie stood up and perched on the end of the bed. ‘They’ll come round, Danny. From everything you’ve said about your family, there’s a lot of love there. It’ll be tough going for a while, but they’re not going to cut you out forever.’
He gave a harsh bark of laughter. ‘You don’t know my mum. Remember I told you about my aunties? Well, there’s one I never mentioned. Auntie Beattie. Her and my mum fell out years ago. Must be getting on for fifteen years now. I have no idea what the row was about. You ask anybody in the family, they just blank you and change the subject.’ A wry smile. ‘I reckon half of them have forgotten what it was all about. But not my mum. She’s not spoken to Beattie since. Hell, Beattie’s not crossed our door since. I wouldn’t know her if I passed her in the street. I could have been at school with my cousins and I wouldn’t have known. My mum will go to her grave not speaking to Auntie Beattie.’
‘But that’s different. You’re her son. She loves you. And your dad, he’ll not go along with that, surely?’
Danny shook his head. ‘My dad does what he’s told. And if she says I’ve broken the fifth commandment, she’ll get the priest on her side and then it’ll be no contest for my dad.’ He stood up. ‘I knew she’d be upset. I didn’t realise how upset. I just need to accept it, Allie. I’m an outcast till she says otherwise.’ He straightened his shoulders and turned to face her, a smile of fake brightness at the ready. ‘Has the office been on? Any problems?’
‘The Razor called with a couple of little queries but nothing I couldn’t handle. I asked about the police. He said Angus had stalled them. Said he had no idea where we were. But you’ll have to meet them tomorrow morning once we’ve named the guilty men.’ Allie exaggerated the last two words, giving them the full TV cop show dramatic weight. Danny’s pain was obvious to her and she was determined to do what she could to ease it. ‘Danny – I don’t mean to trivialise the situation, but maybe it would help things if you could make your mum understand the importance of the work you’re doing?’
He frowned. ‘Is that not obvious already? I’m exposing criminals here.’
‘Yeah, but it’s complicated by Joseph’s involvement in the story. The good stuff? She’s blind to that because all she’s thinking about is the risk to her boy. She can’t see the wood for the trees.’
Danny looked doubtful, but there was a trace of hope in his expression. ‘You think? So how do I fix that? I can’t force her to see past Joseph.’
Allie smiled. ‘We give her something else to look at.’
‘I don’t understand.’ A faint smile. ‘You Cambridge types, you’re too smart for the likes of me.’
‘Remember I said I might have a notion of what we could chase next? Well, if that works out the way I think it might, we’d have a story that nobody could argue wasn’t on the side of the angels.’ In spite of the seriousness of her words, she couldn’t help bouncing on the edge of the terrible mattress.
‘Where’s this big idea come from? You didn’t have two thoughts to rub together a couple of weeks ago.’ He sounded unconvinced, as if he suspected Allie of trying to cajole him out of his pain.
So she told him about following Rona’s suggestion of chasing the women’s stories and how it had led her to the radical nationalists. ‘There were these three young men. Early twenties, trying to outdo each other in the big ma
n stakes. I followed them to the Spaghetti Factory after the meeting and managed to eavesdrop on their conversation.’ She paused for dramatic effect.
Caught up in her enthusiasm, Danny grinned. ‘The Spaghetti Factory conspiracy!’
‘Laugh all you like. They were talking about taking action that would make everyone take independence seriously. Direct action like the Irish Republicans have been taking.’
The smile disappeared from his face. ‘Bombs?’
She couldn’t decide whether he was incredulous or horrified. Either way, she’d drawn his attention from his issues with his mother for the moment. ‘They didn’t say. They agreed to go away and think about it for a week then see what they came up with.’ Another dramatic pause. ‘That week’s up tonight. They’ll be at the meeting, for sure. And I think we should infiltrate them.’
Danny threw himself down into the chair again. ‘No way.’ He shook his head. ‘That’ll never work.’
‘Why not? We can make all the right noises.’
He gave her a pitying look. ‘You’ve been away too long, Allie. The bit of it that’ll never work is “we”.’
‘What do you mean?’ But before the words were out, she already knew the answer.
‘You’re a woman. They’ll never trust you, never take you seriously. There’s an outside chance I can get close to them, but you’ll never get so much as a foot in the door. I’m sorry, Allie. If they’re as gung-ho as you say, they’d never accept you as one of the team.’
He was right and she hated it. The same old story of life in the newsroom – stick to the miracle babies, let the men carry the weight. It didn’t matter how good she was, she’d always be dismissed because of her gender. Would this ever change? The only positive was that making his point had joined Danny to the project. Instead of coming up with a dozen objections to the basic idea, he’d moved straight to the logistics of how they would get inside the fledgling conspiracy. Allie sighed. ‘You’re right. It pisses me off, but you’re right. We’ll make sure we arrive separately and don’t show any signs of knowing each other.’
