by Ed James
The sound stopped dead, echoes of the cymbals dying away.
"If there was an audience," said Gary, "they'd be going mental just now."
Alistair nodded as he looked around the practice room, four whitewashed walls and a bare ceiling above a concrete floor, the equipment of two bands rammed into the tiny space. "Not long till we have a proper crowd. And more than just my mates from Uni."
Roddie grinned. "You almost didn't make the last chord there. One pedal too many."
Alistair shrugged, trying to affect the cool the singer of a band should have. "I was tempted to put another one on." He sat down on his amp and flicked it to standby. "Reckon that's us for tonight?"
"Think so," said Roddie, before reaching round and tossing a can of beer over to Alistair.
"Cheers." He inspected it, a cheap supermarket brand. He wasn't one to turn down free beer, so tentatively opened it, careful not to catch the gush of foam on his clothes, shoes, guitar or pedals. The floor got it instead, another sticky patch that would take weeks to clear.
"That was a good practice," said Gary.
"Damn right." Roddie avoided the spray as he opened his can.
"Nice to kick back and relax now," said Alistair, feeling genuinely spent from the exertions of running through their twenty-five minute set four times, almost eradicating errors.
"Not quite," said Gary, taking a sip of vodka straight from the bottle.
"Eh?" said Alistair.
"Tonight's the night," said Gary, mouth twisting into an evil grin.
Alistair rolled his eyes. "You still on about that?" he said, trying to sound tired.
"Aye, and I won't stop until you finally do it." Gary picked up a copy of The List, the Glasgow and Edinburgh what's-on guide, and showed it to Alistair. "The deal was, I arrange the gig and you go for a wander down there."
Alistair shook his head. "You're such a bloody child." He looked around, desperate for an excuse. "I need a torch."
Gary grinned again as he took one out of his hoodie pocket. "Here you go. No more excuses."
"You really want me to do this?" said Alistair, trying to sound grown up, challenging Gary to see the error of his childish ways.
It didn't work. Gary prodded him in the chest. "A deal's a deal," he said, punctuating each word with a poke.
Alistair's eyes pleaded with Roddie.
"Don't look at me," said the drummer. "This is between you pair." He cracked open another beer before belching.
"Fine," said Alistair, feeling his blood rise.
Gary turned to a dog-eared page. "Here."
It was an interview with Expect Delays, the local band made good. Alistair was obsessed with them, almost as much as Gary. Top five singles, a number one album and supporting U2 at Hampden next week. Miles better than playing to the proverbial 'three blokes and a murderer' at Bannerman's, like they would on Sunday.
"What am I supposed to be looking for here?" said Alistair.
Gary's fat finger pointed to a chunk of interview text. "This bit."
Alistair read the interview with Neeraj Patel, Expect Delays' guitarist, talking about the practice room they used as an unsigned band in Edinburgh.
"I know they practised here," said Alistair. "That's why we got the room."
"That's not it," said Gary. "Read on."
"Right, so they went for a wander along an old street under the Old Town? Big deal."
"Says you can walk for miles under here," said Gary. "Can't believe they did that, man. It's fate. If we do it, maybe we'll get signed, too."
"I don't think it works like that," said Alistair, sweating despite the cold.
"You're not going back on our deal, are you?" said Gary.
Alistair tried again with the maturity act, this time folding his arms. He got nowhere. "Right, fuck it," he said, getting to his feet and snatching the torch from Gary.
"Good man," said Gary.
Alistair stormed out of the room, swinging the torch by its cord. They were on the second level down and the entrance was on the next, the lowest. He waited with Gary while Roddie locked the door then headed down the stone stairs.
He heard the sound of at least one other band bleeding through the walls. He checked his watch - still another fifty minutes till they had to lock up.
Alistair stopped by the heavy door and turned round. "You coming with me?"
Gary rubbed his hands together. "Of course."
"Wouldn't miss this for the world," said Roddie.
Alistair grimaced before marching on. The lack of whitewash was the only difference between the rehearsal space and the old street.
An old paraffin lantern hanging from a wall reminded him of Mary King's Close, the sanitised tourist attraction he'd visited with school.
This was different - an ancient road that led off Niddry Street before the buildings of South Bridge sprang up in the nineteenth century. The smell of damp - always present in their room - worsened as they progressed deeper.
They came to a crossroads that opened out slightly. Alistair quickly ascertained two of the paths were bricked up, leaving right as the only option. He shone the torch into the gloom, the beam dying long before it reached a distant wall. The hair on his arms pricked up. He marched on, trying to recall the exact terms of the deal - he reckoned another hundred footsteps ought to do it, but he didn't know whether Gary would see it that way.
"What was that?" said Roddie.
"Your burp," said Alistair, briefly turning round.
"No, I swear I heard something."
Alistair gritted his teeth and strode on, determined to get it over with. After another fifty or so paces, the path curved hard to the left. He was aware of their breath behind him, loud in the darkness. "This'll do."
"Nowhere near enough, mate," said Gary. "Keep going."
"Come on, man," said Alistair.
"Don't 'come on, man' me." Gary stabbed a finger at his chest. "I say when it's over, not you."
Alistair pushed on. After another twenty seconds, he stopped dead and turned to face the others. "I swear I heard something."
Gary scowled. "Quit it. Roddie's trick didn't work on you, so you're trying it on me now?"
Alistair swivelled back round, the torch dancing on the stone walls. The light bounced off something metallic. "What's that?"
"Enough," said Gary.
"I mean it," said Alistair, pointing down with the torch. "Look. Something's glinting."
"Might be some old money or something," said Roddie. He laughed and spoke in a stupid voice. "Maybe it's gold. Maybe a treasure chest."
"I doubt it," said Gary.
Alistair inched forward, flicking the torch across the ground. As they approached, he saw something long and thin. He stopped and looked closer. A screwdriver. He crept on, training the torch ahead. The light shone on something and he let out a gasp.
A body was propped against the wall.
OTHER BOOKS BY ED JAMES
THE SCOTT CULLEN SERIES
1GHOST IN THE MACHINE
2DEVIL IN THE DETAIL
3FIRE IN THE BLOOD
4DYED IN THE WOOL
5BOTTLENECK
Writing as Edwin James -
SHOT THROUGH THE HEART, a standalone supernatural thriller
Afterword
Revised edition notes -
Since going full-time in January 2014, I decided to edit all four Cullen novels at the same time as writing book five and also starting a new series. Not a great idea in terms of sanity but, now I'm the other side of it, I can really appreciate how much my style has come on in that time.
This book took a hell of an editing - started out with 111,000 words and ended up with 84,000ish. It's a LOT better for it. Tighter, more focused and less fuckin' from Bain.
Now, on with something new.
Ed James
East Lothian, July 2014
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Original Afterword -
When I clicked submit for GHOST IN THE MACHINE to be released on Amazon last April, I didn't expect to have four full novels published in fifteen months. That's pretty freaky.
Anyway, that's DYED IN THE WOOL finally done and out of my system.
Thinking back, this one had a bloody ridiculous gestation like all of the others. Back when DEVIL IN THE DETAIL was just going to be a stopgap novella (instead of the longest - well, second longest now - Cullen book), this was going to be the second full novel. It started out as a terrorist bombing Edinburgh, then became about the EDL and then about Neil Lennon being attacked on the football pitch. I finally settled on this plot when I remembered a discarded plot line from an early draft of GHOST IN THE MACHINE (if you must know, Caroline Adamson's friend Steve Allen was killed, and there was some weird gay revenge motive thing going on - glad I sorted that one out) - there's something in that which I've not used and will be in the next Cullen book.
It's been pretty difficult this one. It was the first one I wrote with my amazing new method on my amazing new MacBook Air (coming up to a year old now), so I got the plot nailed down really early. I plotted it in November, between chaotic drafts of FIRE IN THE BLOOD and before I plotted a non-Cullen book out at Christmas (more on that later). I wrote the first draft in February to mid-March. I got it reviewed by a couple of people, edited it and then did something I've seen on the net - get some fans to read it through and comment.
A huge thanks, therefore, go to Jon, Mags, Zoe, Andrew, Pat and Rhona. The comments I got back strengthened the book immeasurably.
I then did something that a shambling amateur like me just doesn't do - I got a professional editor. Rhona (the same one) did an incredible job in May/June, going through the lines of stuff I'd churned out and helped me turn them into something a bit more professional. Thanks go to Rhona for the editing and also, along with Claudia, for the proofing. I feel like a proper author now, and that's not something I ever expected to say.
Oh, and a couple of other mentions: Peter, I hope the sex scene meets your expectations; Rich, I doubt you'll ever read this but that wee ned trying to nick your phone was wild; the Rick Astley fanclub, I got a mention in there; and an anonymous Twitter follower (only anonymous because I can't remember), for the mole thing.
In all, I'd say that it's the best book I've done and I hope you agree.
As ever, I made some shit up. Ravencraig (the eagle-eyed among you will remember a mention in FIRE IN THE BLOOD) does not exist, of course. And to the real 'Crystal' Methven - I just couldn't resist.
What's next, you wonder?
Well, followers of my blog will know that I've moved job and I'm now based in London four days a week, so my writing pattern is certainly different. I'm trying to keep it up and I've managed to get a load of editing done in the last few weeks. The next big project is finishing off SHOT THROUGH THE HEART - my vampire thriller that has nothing to do with Scott Cullen or any of those clowns - which is about 75% through a fairly tight first draft, but is a lot shorter than this beast so should be out in late August or so.
I've already plotted out much of Cullen five (BOTTLENECK). I've got Cullen six pretty straight in my head.
Thanks again for buying and reading this - do let me know what you think of my books. And I'd really appreciate it if you would leave a review where you bought this - it seriously helps indie authors like me.
Ed James
London, July 2013
Subscribe to my newsletter at http://eepurl.com/pyjv9 (news on new releases and miscellany)
Visit edjamesauthor.com for my blog and news on forthcoming books
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Email me at [email protected] - I don't bite
