Lynsey came in. Looking up at her, he did a mental double-take in disbelief that she was with him. She was wearing cords and boots and a striped shirt and her hair looked as if it had been mussed by Vidal Sassoon. He remembered that he was in a place he didn’t want to leave. The proof he was going to give her of his concern for Tony should help to keep him there. He tried to tell from her face if she had found out what they had to know. But in certain moods her face told you as much as a clock with no hands.
She sat on the toilet with the lid down and looked at him. He liked the way the water would be outlining his torso like grease. He smiled but she didn’t respond. He tested.
‘Ye gonny get me a drink, Lynsey?’
‘At this time, Dave?’
‘Well, Ah’ve seen them doin’ it in the pictures. Drinkin’ in the bathrobe an’ that. Ah always fancied it.’
He knew she liked the idea of the hard man who was really a waif at heart. It worked again.
‘Well, something civilised. Gin and tonic?’
‘Aye. Wi’ lemon and ice. Ye’ve got tae learn not tae pick yer nose an’ chew it sometime.’
She went out. Having half-dried himself, he had a quick go at the beady. No wonder there were a lot of upper-class poofs. Drying himself and putting on the Paisley-pattern dressing-gown she had bought him, he thought about it. That was how things had been arranged. Everything was a kind of beady, to make you feel bad and realise you didn’t belong because you didn’t know how it worked. Well, he knew now, and he wasn’t impressed.
When he came out, the drink was waiting for him. He sat at ease and sipped it. He wished he was as sure about how she worked. She was flicking the pages of a magazine in that way she had, as if the goings on of others were strange and she could never quite get interested in them. He realised that no matter what they got round to doing in bed, there was always a piece of herself stayed cordoned off, like the part of the stately home the punters just get filing past and the notice says ‘Private’.
‘Ye saw that wumman?’ he said.
She nodded.
‘Well?’
‘I know where Tony is.’ She looked up from her magazine. ‘I was tempted to go and see him.’
‘But ye didn’t?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
She told him where it was. He was surprised how close it was to where Tony had been.
‘Ye know what we’re gonny do?’ he said.
‘I’m just hoping you do.’
He was going to tell her when the phone rang. He shook his hand at her, crossed, still holding his drink, and lifted the phone. His guess had been right. Mickey Ballater sounded as if he was trying to arrive through the earpiece.
‘Listen, you! Ma legs are tired goin’ the long road. All Ah’m findin’ out is that you two know more than ye’re sayin’. It’s talkin’ time.’
As Ballater raved on, Dave held the phone out so that Lynsey could appreciate the reality of what they were up against. The voice raged faintly like a trapped wasp looking for something to sting.
‘We’ve been workin’ on it,’ Dave said, watching Lynsey. ‘We think we can find out the day. Ye’ll get a phone-call at that number o’ yours. Ye’ll be there?’
The silence at the other end was Ballater’s anger communing with itself.
‘How long?’
‘A few hours at the most.’
‘Ah’ll be there. If Ah don’t know where Veitch is by the night, ye can emigrate.’
Dave had other plans. He put the phone down and sipped his drink.
‘Ah could get tae like that,’ he said. ‘It’s like drinkin’ shaddas in the summer.’
He crossed and ruffled her hair.
‘Lynsey,’ he said. ‘Two choices for aul’ Tony. The polis or the Clyde. Ah think he’s better wi’ the polis. Fair enough?’
She looked up at him.
‘He could get away.’
‘Tony? Tony couldny negotiate an adventure playground. You know ’im, Lynsey. What chance has he got? Cam Colvin’ll kill him. Very easily and very painfully. That’s what’ll happen if we don’t help.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘Two things. Help Tony and keep ourselves in the clear.’
‘How?’
‘Macey. First, we find Macey. He’s in far more trouble than we’re in. Or Ah can put ’im there. If ye’re lookin’ for a favour, always find somebody that needs wan.’
‘Dave. Will this work?’
‘By tonight Tony’ll be in the nick.’ He winked at her. ‘Protective custody, they call it.’
23
‘I have called this extraordinary meeting of the Society of the Friends of Eck Adamson. .’ Eddie Devlin said.
‘The venue’s extraordinary enough, anyway,’ Laidlaw said, and adjusted his collar.
The strange method of calling the meeting was perhaps appropriate to the strangeness of its setting. Danny McLeod had phoned Eddie Devlin, having kept Eddie’s card as carefully as if it had been American Express since the time Eddie had been involved in the series about down-and-outs. Eddie had phoned Laidlaw to see if he was interested. Laidlaw was. Laidlaw had phoned Harkness to make sure he was available. Harkness was. Eddie had phoned back Laidlaw to tell him where they would meet. Laidlaw had told Harkness.
They had all come together on a bench of the Kibble Palace in the Botanic Gardens. The choice was Danny’s, who was perhaps training for the Foreign Office. They sat in a row among exotic vegetation. Laidlaw felt like an extra in a script Danny was reconstructing from some jungle film he had seen.
‘When does the native bearer stagger out?’ Laidlaw asked. ‘Gaspin’, “Drums say no go on, B’wana”.’
Eddie said, ‘One thing, Jack. Whatever Danny tells you, it’s got to be hot.’
Laidlaw winced.
‘Know what we should do?’ Harkness said. ‘We should all hide behind plants. And communicate in bird-song. That way the security’s really tight.’
He cupped his hands over his mouth and demonstrated quietly.
‘Well,’ Laidlaw said. ‘Is that the warm-up act over? Any chance we get to hear the star?’
‘Jack. I remember once you almost relaxed.’ Eddie winked along at Harkness. ‘Anyway. Danny phoned me. He’s got something to tell you. The right. The honourable. The Danny McLeod.’
‘Ah’ve asked youse boys here,’ Danny said, ‘’cause this is quiet. Ah’m runnin’ risks here. There’s people could be after me. Bad people. So what? Ah’ll take ma chances. Like, Ah wis in the merchant navy. Ah’ve been around. That’s one of the reasons Ah like tae come here. Reminds me. The world’s a big place. It’s not just Glesca. Not at all. That’s why Ah’m not worried about hard-men. Ah’ve rounded the Horn often enough tae get tae keep it. When ye’ve faced the wrath of God, whit’s a hard man? Ye know whit Ah mean?’
Harkness was loving it. He was at one end of the bench with Eddie at the other. They were exchanging reactions. Between them, Danny and Laidlaw were an interesting free show. Danny was determined to play his fragment of information as if it was the theory of relativity. Laidlaw was studying plant life like the first man on the planet. It occurred to Harkness that for such a fearless man Danny had found it necessary to sup a fair amount of the liquid vine.
‘Well, Daniel,’ Laidlaw said. ‘You’re good at the Bernard Shaw prefaces. But I hope you can write a better play.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Danny. Going to tell us? As you say, we’re quiet. You’re safe here. Unless they’ve bugged the greenfly. What is it you have to tell us, Danny?’
‘Well. That’s really why Ah asked ye here. Ah had a wee visit the day. Ye see, Ah’ve got a wee business in Paddy’s Market. Not a great turnover. But it keeps me workin’. So the day. Here’s what happened. Ye see, Ah’ve a special line. From Peru. Lima in Peru. That’s the capital. It’s like. Well, it’s not pure gold, certainly. But it’s like matchbox-holders. All different designs. Some of the boys brought them back from the World Cup an’ Ah sell them. 50p a time. It’s a bargain.’