It was an explosive revelation. Allie could barely begin to grasp the implications. For a long moment, she struggled to find words. She clutched her glass as if it were a lifebelt in a turbulent sea. Danny swallowed his whisky and got up to pour another. When he had his back to her, she said, ‘You mean … Beattie’s source is Farquhar’s, what – boyfriend?’
Danny sat on the far sofa, where Allie had started. ‘I don’t know whether it’s that kind of relationship. Maybe more casual?’
‘So is it just a sex thing? Or do you think he’s chasing the same thing we are? That he’s targeting Farquhar because the SB have got a sniff of their plans?’
Danny shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. But now Beattie’s brought him into the picture, now he’s using him as a confidential source … if he didn’t know before that he was having sex with a potential terrorist, he certainly knows now.’
‘I can’t believe he was on an assignment,’ Allie said slowly. ‘The Branch would never knowingly employ a gay man.’
‘They might. If they were running an undercover honeytrap.’
‘If they were doing that, surely they’d be much more likely to set a female officer on the other two? Besides, they wouldn’t need a honeytrap against Farquhar. If they’d had any suspicions of your guys and they knew he was homosexual, they’d just pull him in and use that for leverage. Like you said, it’s against the law. He could end up in court, he’d lose his job. From what I’ve seen of Farquhar, I think he’d cave.’ Allie tilted her head back and frowned in concentration. ‘So what does this mean for us? What’s the set-up between him and Beattie anyway? Is he some sort of official liaison?’
Danny spluttered with laughter. ‘Of course not. He’ll have an arrangement with Wee Gordon. He tips Gordon off on stories and payments make their way into somebody else’s bank account. His mum or his best pal. And if Gordon wants something copper-bottomed, he’ll ask Mr SB to do some digging for him. It’s not like he’s the only polis that Wee Gordon has on his payroll. It’s the main reason he’s in the masons – most of the senior officers in Strathclyde Police are in the same lodge. How do you think Wee Gordon gets all his exclusives?’
Embarrassed at her naivety, Allie said, ‘Will Beattie’s guy recognise you?’
Danny spread his hands. ‘I don’t know. If he fancies Farquhar, I’m definitely not his type.’
‘Are you serious? Gay men have a “type”?’ Allie hastily caught herself. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve never had this kind of conversation with Marcus. Is it that simple? You only go for one kind of look?’
‘Some men do. A lot of men do. You remember the Village People video for “YMCA”? I’ve no idea what straight people made of it, but for gay men, it was a playful take on the kind of role-playing dress-up that some guys go for. That’s not my scene, by the way. But you see them out and about in the bars. The leather men. The uniform queens. The glitter guys.’
Allie was bemused. It had never occurred to her that she might have a type. Since her mid-teens she’d had a few boyfriends. A couple of them had almost been serious, but she’d cut loose because she didn’t think she loved them. Not deep down, not like the love songs said she should feel. The sex was fine, but it had never left her thinking, ‘I want to wake up with you every morning.’ She’d found them all attractive enough, but it had been their personalities – their intelligence, their sense of humour, their taste in music – that had drawn her to them. There was no template to their looks. The idea of choosing a potential partner based on their appearance seemed bizarre to her. She had no idea how to navigate Danny’s world. ‘So you think you won’t have registered on his radar?’
‘Probably not. But if he does recognise me … ’
‘He’s not going to say anything, because if he does, he’ll expose himself. He’ll be just as nervous of you exposing him as you are of him exposing you.’
Danny drained his glass then wrapped his arms round himself. ‘I thought this week couldn’t get worse. This story was supposed to be the way to show my mum that the work I’m doing is valuable. To get me back into my family again. But if this comes out …’ His voice tailed off and his eyes brightened with unshed tears.
‘It’s not going to come out, Danny. There’s no reason why it should. Farquhar hasn’t recognised you and he’s the only one who needs a bargaining chip. You and Beattie’s source, that’s kind of mutually assured destruction. Besides, we’ll find out soon enough what the score is with him. Beattie’s going to be asking him for background searches on all three of them. If Mr SB doesn’t mention Farquhar’s sexuality, I think it’s safe to say you’re going to be OK.’
‘You really think so?’ His pinched expression began to relax a little as hope crept in.
‘I do. We just have to wait and see and hope he’s as eager to stay in the closet as you are.’
Danny winced. ‘I don’t want to be in the closet. It’s not that I’m ashamed. I listen to Tom Robinson singing “Glad to be Gay” and I despise myself for hiding who I really am. But I love my family; even though I think I’ve already lost them, I know if I told them the truth about myself, I’d have no chance of ever being part of it again. I love my work too. Being a reporter, it’s what I always wanted. But can you imagine the dog’s life I’d have in the Clarion if they knew?’ He shook his head, his mouth a bitter line.
‘I can’t argue with that,’ Allie said. ‘It’s hard enough being a woman in there. It’d be a hundred times worse for you.’ Light dawned. ‘Is that the real reason you don’t want a picture byline? You’re afraid somebody you’ve been with will expose you?’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘It crossed my mind early on. God knows, I’m so careful. I know guys who are completely wild. Totally reckless about who they have sex with. I’m not like that. But you can never be sure.’
Allie felt for him. She could barely imagine living a life that required hiding so much of herself from the people closest to her. ‘Do you have anybody you can talk to?’
He looked away. ‘I have … an arrangement. It’s not ideal but I trust him.’ He flashed her a quick look. ‘Don’t pity me, Allie. The world’s changing. There’s places I could move to and have a much more open life. London, Manchester. Maybe this story’s the springboard for me to be out and proud.’ He scoffed. ‘I mean, there’s got to be an upside to being the family black sheep, right?’ He straightened up and squared his shoulders.
Allie couldn’t help admiring his refusal to give in. Or feeling rueful that she’d wasted her emotional energy considering him as a romantic prospect. ‘Definitely.’ She put her glass down on the floor. ‘I guess I should be going. I thought Angus might have got back to us, but he’ll have gone home by now.’
‘Do you want to stick around? We could pick up a carry-out. There’s a pretty good Chinese on the main drag. If you’ve not had enough of me whining like a slapped puppy?’
She laughed. ‘You smooth-talking bastard. I love a good Chinese.’
They were finishing off the last of the sweet and sour pork balls and the chicken fried rice when Danny’s phone rang. Their moment of escape was over. Danny hurried back to the living room and snatched up the handset. ‘Hello?’
Allie, hot on his heels, put her head next to his. She heard the voice on the other end say, ‘Paul? Is that you?’ and felt the momentary hesitation as Danny slipped into character.
‘Ding-dong, my man. What’s going on?’
‘Can you phone me back on this number? From a phone box?’
‘There’s no need for that if you’re already in a phone box. I’m a nobody. I’m not on anybody’s list, my phone’s not tapped. Just tell me what’s happening.’ Allie encouraged him with a thumbs-up.
‘I suppose.’ A sigh. ‘Well, same as last time, I got a note through the door at teatime. So here I am in the phone box. I called at the set time and the guy said, same drill as last time, Thursday night. Only, make sure we’ve got the balance or there’ll be displeasure. That’s the word he used: “Displeasure”.’
‘Scary bastards.’
‘No kidding. So, are you still OK for the readies?’
‘Aye, it’s all arranged. So I’ll see you in the pub, same as before? Thursday night at nine?’
‘I’m going to tell Roddy and Deke to meet us there. Wave us off, like. And we’ll all hook up later back at Deke’s flat.’
Danny and Allie exchanged a look. She shook her head, dubious. ‘Is that wise?’ Danny said. ‘I don’t mean meeting up later. I’m talking about the pub. They’ve told us to come by ourselves. If they’re watching us and they see us with somebody else, I wouldn’t put it past them to call the whole thing off. And give us a doing for good measure.’
‘You think?’ Bell sounded panicky.
‘These boys? Definitely in their box of tricks, I’d say. We need to do exactly what they tell us, Gary. They’re not messing, they’re for real. Compared to them, we’re amateur city.’
It was, she thought, a sharp reminder to them both that the territory she’d led them into was dark and dangerous.
Bell made an indeterminate noise. ‘Mibbes.’ A sigh. ‘Aye, you’re probably right. I was just looking for a wee bit of moral support.’
The last thing they needed was for Danny to walk into the lion’s den with a shoogly sidekick. Allie stepped away and mouthed ‘dinner’ in a low voice. Danny nodded. ‘We could meet up for a curry ahead of the pub?’
‘No, Deke doesn’t like spicy food. We should meet up at the Spaghetti Factory, where this all started. And it’s handy for Deke and Roddy.’
‘OK. Spaghetti Factory at half past seven? Then you and me can get a cab down to the Calton.’
‘See you then, Paul.’ He inhaled sharply. ‘Fuck, we’re really doing this. Can you believe it?’
Danny chuckled. ‘It needs to be done, Ding-dong. And we are the boys to do it. We can be heroes, and not just for one day.’
Before Bell could speak, the pips went, indicating his money had run out. ‘See you Thurs—’ he managed before the line went dead.
Danny laughed, the buzz of adrenaline lifting him. ‘It’s not exactly James Bond, is it? You never saw Sean Connery running out of change in a phone box.’
The two of them slumped on to the nearest sofa, leaning against each other as the excitement leaked out. ‘I better phone Angus,’ Allie said after a few minutes. ‘He’s going to want a head start on this.’
She struggled to her feet and fetched her bag, taking out the small cardboard booklet that contained the news team’s home phone numbers. She perched on the arm of the sofa and dialled Carlyle. ‘Hi boss, it’s Burns,’ she greeted him. She gave him a full run-down on Danny’s phone conversation with Bell. ‘So it looks like we’re on for Thursday night.’
‘This Thursday?’
‘Afraid so, yeah.’
He swore fluently and extensively. ‘I wish we had more time to prep this.’ He blew out air through his lips like a horse. ‘My office. Nine tomorrow.’ As he replaced the phone, Allie distinctly heard, ‘Fuck’s sake … They’re gonnae get somebody killed.’