They wake up in a four-poster bed in an olde hotel in the centre of Stratford-upon-Avon. They are hungover. It takes a minute to remember why they’re here. The Mechanic switches the radio on. 99 Luftballons. They have a shower. Eat breakfast in the room. They check out. Feel better. They take the A46 and the A422 into Worcester. Jen drives. They park outside the Pear Tree. They go inside. The Mechanic makes the phone call. Gets the address.
They have a drink. A bite to eat.
An hour later they stop at Diamond Detectives to pick up the key and the money. Vince Taylor isn’t about. Just his old secretary Joyce. Jen has never met Joyce before. Joyce gives them a cup of tea. Tries to get hold of Vince. She says Vince is a bit down in the dumps at the moment. Looks like she’s had enough herself. The Mechanic asks her if there’s anything him and Jen can do. She shakes her head. Locks herself in the toilet for ten minutes.
Vince isn’t going to show.
They finish their tea. Make their excuses. Joyce gives them the key. The money. They take the A44 out to Leominster then the A49 straight up to Shrewsbury. Jen counts the money. They find the house. Two-up, two-down terrace near Sutton Road. They let themselves in. The Mechanic makes another phone call.
They sit down. Stick the telly on. Wait –
Bad weather. Bad dreams all night.
The Yorkshire Area Executive had defied the High Court injunction on picketing and the pickets continued to fly. The Yorkshire Area had been found in contempt of court and the bailiffs dispatched –
The Yorkshire Industrial Action Fund already exhausted.
The President sent Terry Winters and Mike Sullivan back to Huddersfield Road again.
This time they weren’t alone –
Two thousand from the Yorkshire Coalfield had answered the President’s call; two thousand miners here to defend the battlements of King Arthur’s (former) Castle, ringing the black, stained bricks of the Yorkshire HQ –
Four thousand eyes watching and waiting for the bailiffs.
In an upstairs room Terry and Mike shredded papers.
There were scuffles outside. The men attacked photographers and camera crews. The police stepped in. Punches were thrown. Arrests made.
Clive Cook brought in more boxes. Terry and Mike shredded more papers.
There was a sudden, huge cheer from the men outside –
Terry and Mike went to the window.
Clive came back with the last box. He said, ‘The Board’s abandoned the action.’
The Tinkerbell doesn’t knock. They never do. He has his own key. Doesn’t introduce himself. Never do. Wise men. He has a good look at Jen, then takes his gear straight up to the little bedroom. The Mechanic sends Jen out to buy a pint of milk. He reads yesterday’s paper again. Jen comes back. It’s raining outside. She makes a pot. The Mechanic takes a cup up to the Tinkerbell. He’s sitting on the bed with his headphones on and his notebook out. The Mechanic taps him on the shoulder. The Tinkerbell jumps. The Mechanic hands him the mug. The Tinkerbell nods. The Mechanic goes back downstairs.
Half-twelve, Jen goes out for fish and chips. The Mechanic sits and waits for The One o’Clock News. Jen comes back with the chips. The Mechanic sticks some on a plate for the Tinkerbell and takes them up. He’s still sitting on the bed with his headphones on. He nods. The Mechanic goes back downstairs to Jen. They eat lunch. Jen makes a fresh pot. The Mechanic does the dishes.
Three o’clock, the Tinkerbell comes downstairs. He hands the Mechanic a piece of paper –
The Mechanic reads it. Picks up the phone.
Hour later, Julius Schaub arrives with Leslie in a red Ford Escort. Schaub’s grown his hair out since the Mechanic saw him last. Leslie looks exactly the same. The Mechanic doesn’t introduce them to Jen. Schaub keeps it shut. He’s been warned. He’s on his best behaviour. The Mechanic gives them their instructions. He takes Jen up to the little bedroom with him. The Tinkerbell is sitting on the bed with his headphones on. Notebook out. He turns to look at them. He shakes his head. They sit down on the bed next to him to wait –
Bad weather. Bad dreams all night.
Just after half-seven the Tinkerbell nudges the Mechanic. He taps his headphones. He puts his thumb up. The Mechanic and Jen go back downstairs. Wake up Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum.
They leave the house.
Schaub and Leslie take the Escort. The Mechanic and Jen take the Rover.
Both cars drive to Sutton Road. The Escort parks at one end of the street, the Rover at the other. Schaub gets out of his car. Leslie stays put behind the wheel. The Mechanic gets out the Rover. Jen stays where she is.
The Mechanic takes the bag out of the boot. He walks along the street. He comes to the house. He goes up the drive. Schaub already has the back door open. They go inside. The Mechanic opens the bag. He hands Schaub a camera –
Schaub takes the upstairs. The Mechanic the downstairs.
The Mechanic goes through the kitchen into the living room and then the study. He searches drawers and bookshelves for twenty minutes.
Schaub comes back downstairs into the study. He shakes his head.
They leave the house. They close the back door. They go down the drive.
The Mechanic walks back to the Escort with Schaub –
Schaub gets into the front. The Mechanic the back.
Leslie turns round –
The Mechanic shakes his head.
Schaub says, ‘She must have it on her.’
‘Like where?’ Leslie asks him.
He pulls out a large white pair of women’s knickers from the inside of his jacket. He holds them up. He laughs and says, ‘Hide all sorts in these sexy things.’
The Mechanic leans forward. He grabs Schaub by his hair. Pulls his head over the back of the seat –
Whispers in Schaub’s ear, ‘I thought it was kids you liked. Your own.’
‘Fuck off,’ shouts Schaub. ‘Fuck off!’
The Mechanic pushes him forward again. He leans over the seat with him –
Bangs Schaub’s forehead once onto the top of the dashboard.
‘Fuck!’ screams Schaub. ‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’
‘Take him back to the house,’ the Mechanic tells Leslie. ‘Wait for me there.’
Leslie nods. He starts the car.
The Mechanic gets out. He walks back down the street to the Rover. Gets in.
‘Nothing,’ the Mechanic says. ‘Have to go out to the cottage.’
Jen starts the car. They drive out to Four Crosses and turn off up to Llanymynech. They stop at a phone box. The Mechanic calls the number –
Lets it ring. Ring and ring. No one answers.
They find the cottage. They park.
The Mechanic takes the bag off the backseat. He gets out –
Jen waits in the car.
The Mechanic walks up the path. He does the door. He goes inside. He searches the place. He goes back outside. He locks the lock. He walks down the path –
Jen starts the car.
The Mechanic puts the bag in the boot. He gets in. Shakes his head.
They drive back to Shrewsbury. They park outside the terrace –
The Escort isn’t here.
They go inside. No Schaub. No Leslie. The Mechanic goes upstairs –
The Tinkerbell is still sat on the bed. Headphones in his hand. He looks up –
‘What the fuck happened in there?’ he asks the Mechanic.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The phone’s dead.’
‘What?’
‘I can’t hear anything –’
The Mechanic goes straight back down the stairs.
Jen’s just put the kettle on. She says, ‘What is it?’
‘Come on,’ the Mechanic tells her. ‘Quick!’
They go back outside to the car. They drive back to Sutton Road –
No Escort here either.
They park at the end of the road –
‘Wait here,’ the Mechanic tells Jen.
‘You’re never going back in there?’ she says. ‘She could come –’
The Mechanic gets out. Closes the door. He walks along the street. Comes to the house –
The curtains are drawn. Lights on inside –
Fuck.
He goes up the drive. Round the back of the house. The door wide open –
Fuck.
He leans inside. Shouts out, ‘Hello? Anybody home?’
There’s no answer.
He steps inside the house. Dirty washing scattered all over the kitchen floor. Two handbags emptied on to the table. The telephone ripped from the wall.
He goes into the living room then the study –
No one.
He goes upstairs. One of the railings in the banister is missing.
He goes into the front bedroom –
No one.
Into the bathroom –
No one.
The back bedroom –
Fuck –
Wet towels on the floor. The bed stripped –
Blood and semen on the mattress.
The Jew hasn’t been to sleep for days. He’s too excited. Too busy –
He’s just had his tour of the thirteenth floor of New Scotland Yard –
The National Reporting Centre.
Neil Fontaine opens the back door for the Jew. The Jew gets in.
‘Downing Street, if you would please, Neil.’
‘Certainly, sir.’
The Jew tells Neil of the twenty-four-hour operations and the banks of telephones, the walls of maps and the coloured pins –
‘They keep them in biscuit tins,’ he laughs. ‘Would you believe it? Biscuit tins.’
Neil Fontaine stops for a red light. He glances at his watch then the rearview –
The Jew is wearing a dark blue pinstripe suit, a pale blue shirt and a white silk tie. The Jew has another report to make; another speech to give –
‘There will be no ballot. That much is clear,’ the Jew is saying aloud in the back. ‘The strategy of the committee must be based upon this reality. The Employment Acts have to be kept in reserve. No resort to ballot, no resort to court. In the very unlikely event of a national ballot and an even unlikelier vote for a strike then, and only then, should the Employment Acts be used to protect those areas that will inevitably defy the ballot and continue to work –’
The Jew is practising his speech again. The Jew is out to turn the screw –
He talks to himself in the back of the Mercedes. He talks about Social Security. Talks about the non-payment of benefits. About late payments. He talks about the Electricity and Gas boards. Talks about demanding weekly payments. About cutting the strikers off. He talks about the banks and the building societies. Talks about mortgages –
About repossession –
The Jew wants to turn the screw. To turn it again and again –
Week by week, little by little, day by day, piece by piece –
‘To roll back the frontiers of Socialism for ever, Neil!’
Neil Fontaine stops at the checkpoint at the end of Downing Street.
The Jew puts on a pair of aviator sunglasses and his large-brimmed panama hat. He takes a deep breath. He says, ‘Wish me luck, Neil.’
‘Good luck, sir.’
Neil Fontaine watches the Jew disappear into Number 10, Downing Street.
Neil Fontaine looks at his watch again. He starts the Mercedes –
He has his own screws to turn. Different screws.
Midnight Wednesday into Thursday. Dark side of the moon. They pull up outside Vince’s bungalow. No lights on –
‘Wait here,’ the Mechanic tells Jen.
He gets out. He goes up the drive. Rings his bell. Bangs on his door.
‘Who is it?’ shouts Vince from inside. ‘What do you want?’
‘It’s me,’ the Mechanic says. ‘I want a word.’
Keys turn. Chains fall. Vince Taylor opens the door –
The Mechanic shines the torch full in his face. Vince’s hand goes up –
Vince knows.
‘Dave,’ he says. ‘Put that away.’
‘Vince,’ shouts his wife down the hall. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on?’
‘Nothing, love,’ he says. ‘Go back to sleep.’
The Mechanic lowers the torch.
Vince tightens the belt on his dressing-gown. He looks down the drive. He says, ‘Who you got in the car with you?’
‘Jen.’
‘Fucking hell,’ says Vince.
The Mechanic nods. He says, ‘Schaub? Leslie?’
‘Just Leslie,’ says Vince.
‘Schaub?’
‘Fuck knows.’
‘So where’s Leslie?’
‘We’re all afraid, Vince,’ the Mechanic tells him. ‘Now where is he?’
‘Dave –’
The Mechanic shakes his head. He asks him again, ‘Where is he?’
‘They call it Little America,’ says Vince. ‘But, Dave –’
‘Where is it, Vince?’
‘Atcham on the way to Telford. It’s a disused airfield.’
‘What’s he doing there?’
‘He’s hiding. What you think he’s doing there?’
The Mechanic looks at his watch. He says, ‘Put some clothes on, Vince.’
Vince shakes his head. Vince says, ‘Dave –’
The Mechanic grabs Vince Taylor by his dressing-gown. He says again, ‘Put some fucking clothes on.’
Vince goes to get dressed. Vince comes back out. Vince sits in the front seat –
And off they set.
Thirty minutes later, Vince points to the left –
The Mechanic switches off the headlights. He turns off the main road –
Drives through an industrial estate.
Vince points straight ahead.
There is a fence with a gate and an old USAF sign. A red Escort parked up.
The Mechanic pulls in beside the Escort. He switches off the engine.
The Mechanic turns to Vince in the passenger seat. He says, ‘So where’s Leslie?’
‘Fuck knows,’ says Vince.
The Mechanic grabs Vince Taylor’s fat face in his right hand. He squeezes those pasty cheeks tight together. Turns him towards the backseat –
‘You know who that is?’ the Mechanic asks Vince.
Vince nods.
‘That’s the woman I love,’ the Mechanic tells him. ‘So don’t speak like that in front of her.’
Vince nods again.
The Mechanic pushes Vince’s head back into the side-window. Lets him go.
Vince holds his face. He says, ‘I’m sorry, Dave.’
‘Right,’ the Mechanic says. ‘Then let’s go and find Leslie.’
They all get out into the dark. The cold and the rain.
‘Shall we split up?’ asks Vince.
The Mechanic switches the torch on. He shines it in Vince’s face –
Vince puts his hand up again.
‘Vince,’ the Mechanic says. ‘Splitting up is always a mistake.’
Vince shrugs and opens the gates.
They start walking towards the airstrip and an old control tower.
Vince cups his mouth in his hands. He shouts, ‘Leslie! It’s me, Vince!’
Nothing.
‘Leslie! It’s me, Vince,’ he shouts again. ‘Dave and Jen are here with me.’
‘There,’ says Jen. She points at a light flashing on and off up ahead.
They wave their torches at the signal. They walk towards it.
Leslie is standing in front of a small shed. He is shaking. He drops to his knees. He looks up at them –
‘It was fucking Julius,’ he sobs. ‘He only went to put back them fucking knickers. I told him not to. But he thought you were going to hurt him again. Then he was inside and she come home. I went to help him. But –’
They stand in a semicircle. They look down on Leslie.
He looks up again –
‘He lost it.’
‘Where are they now, Leslie?’ the Mechanic asks him.
‘I don’t know. I swear. Really. I don’t. I went upstairs. I didn’t want any part of it. I went back to the car. I didn’t know what to do. Then Julius come back out with her. Took her off in her car. That was last I saw of him. Them.’
The Mechanic squats down next to Leslie. He takes Leslie’s face in his hands –
The Mechanic holds it up to his –
Little Leslie is crying.
The Mechanic wipes away Leslie’s tears. He looks into his eyes.
‘I swear that’s all I know,’ says Leslie.
The Mechanic lets go of Leslie’s face. He stands up.
Vince is staring at the Mechanic.
The Mechanic nods.
Vince spits into the ground.
‘What?’ says Leslie. ‘Vince? What is it?’
‘You two wait here,’ the Mechanic tells Vince and Leslie.
The Mechanic takes Jen’s hand. They walk back to the Rover.
‘Lock the doors,’ the Mechanic tells her. ‘Put the radio on.’
Jen nods. She gets in. She locks the doors. She puts the radio on. Loud.
The Mechanic goes to the back of the Rover. He opens the boot –
Takes out the spade.
*
Terry Winters walked the floors and corridors of St James’s House. His ear to the doors, he listened to the voices. The telephones ringing. The typewriters –
Terry was the boss now. The big man –
The President had left him in charge. The President was touring the coalfields. The President was making certain that the lessons had been learnt. That through solid unity and with more trade union support, pits and jobs could be saved. The Tory anti-trade union legislation resisted. That now was no longer the time to ballot. Now no longer the time when the Haves could stop the Have-nots fighting to save their homes and their communities. Their jobs and their pits –
There were standing ovations. There were songs in his name –
Autographs for the wives and kids. Big boots to fill for Terry Winters –
Terry called meetings. Asked for briefings. Terry demanded updates. Analysis.
The President would call. The President would need to know –
Not tomorrow. Today. Now.
Terry Winters sat bolt upright at his desk under the large portrait of the President. Terry waited for the phone to ring. For the President’s call –
At five o’clock, it rang.
Terry picked it up. Click-click. Terry said, ‘Chief Executive speaking.’
‘Hello, Chief Executive,’ she said. ‘Guess who?’
Terry swallowed. He said, ‘Diane?’
‘Who’s a clever boy then?’
‘How did you get this number?’
She paused. She said, ‘Well, if you’re going to be like that –’
Terry stood up behind his desk. He said into the phone, ‘No, wait.’
‘You gave it to me,’ she said. ‘Remember?’
Terry nodded. He said, ‘Of course.’
‘Guess what?’ she said. ‘I’ve got a present for the Chief Executive.’
‘For me?’
‘But you have to guess what it is,’ she giggled.
‘I –’
‘I’m looking at it right now. I’m touching it.’
‘I –’
‘I’ll give you another hint,’ she whispered. ‘It’s wet and it’s waiting for you.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Now that would be telling,’ she laughed.
‘Where?’ he screamed.
‘I’m sat at the bar of the Hallam Towers Hotel, holding your vodka and tonic.’
Terry Winters hung up. Terry dialled Theresa. Click-click. He told Theresa lies. Terry hung up again. He got his coat. He switched off the lights. Terry locked the door. He went down the corridor. He took the stairs –
Two at a time.
There was a Tweed at reception. The Tweed said, ‘In a hurry are we, Comrade?’
‘No,’ said Terry. ‘Just off to meet the wife.’
‘Now, why don’t I believe you, Comrade?’ smiled the Tweed.
‘What?’ said Terry. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Just pulling your leg, Comrade,’ laughed the Tweed. ‘Just pulling your leg.’
Terry Winters left the building. He ran up the street to the underground car park. He drove out to Hallam Towers. He sucked mints all the way there –
Two at a time.
Terry ran through the lobby into the bar.
Diane was sitting on a high stool with her legs crossed. She pushed the vodka and tonic towards him. She put her right hand on the inside of Terry’s right thigh. She said, ‘I’m afraid the ice has melted. It went all warm and wet.’
Terry Winters took off his glasses. Terry put them in his jacket pocket. He smiled.
Diane leant forward. She whispered, ‘Fuck me before dinner. Upstairs. Now.’
Terry nodded. He said, ‘Without me, they’d be bankrupt already.’
Diane rubbed her fingers over his lips. She said, ‘You talk too much, Comrade.’
The Mechanic needs time to think this through. Space. He drops Jen off at her sister’s. Goes in with her just to make sure. He picks up the dogs from his mother’s. Goes back to his. Theirs. He makes a couple of calls. Makes sure he’ll be rid of the Rover first thing tomorrow. He has another shower. Another drink –
The Mechanic lies on his bed. Their bed. He switches on the news –
‘An elderly woman has been found brutally murdered in the Shropshire countryside. The seventy-nine-year-old rose grower and anti-nuclear campaigner was –’
They will want answers. Then they’ll want silence.