L= They Ate the Truth 12

* * *

Bill is in a bar called the Dog and Dumplings, he has a pint of fairly
warm bitter (more than likely Fuller's London Pride) and a bag of salt
and vinegar McCoys, which he has ripped open so that he can eat out of
it flat, rather than dipping a hand in to the neck of the bag.

He likes the Dog and Dumplings, there's a good quiz machine that isn't
too loud, the girl behind the bar is pretty and smells good, and it has
live football. Bill loves football, specifically Spurs, but he watches
as much as he can, but like most middle-class folk has a downer against
Sky and won't have it installed at home. Quite happy to sell out his
principles in a pub though.

The barmaid shouts over to him that there's a phone call for him. He
finishes off a crisp and wafts his hands to dislodge salt, in a
nail-varnish-drying gesture, takes a gulp of beer and comes over to the
phone. Probably, someone unobtrusive takes an interest in this, maybe
comes to the bar to order a glass of coke, although there's a full
glass at their table they haven't touched yet. Ice and lemon? Yes
thanks.

"Bill, " I say, "It's me. Don't say my name. "

"Okay, " says Bill, "I need to talk to you anyway, I've got this idea
for a film."

Although he's not a bad lawyer, Bill is a frustrated writer - he's
always coming up with ideas for films, though he never gets more than
four pages down. I'm not sure I have time for this, but this is a big
ask, so I humour him.

"It's a caper film, " he says, "Blinding idea, you'll love this. How
could you get eighty million together without firing a shot, and be
certain you'd get the cash?"

"I have no idea, " I say, thinking of the guy at the bar watching Bill,
the surge of coke and that fizzing noise that is like the whoosh of a
plane overhead. Coke always wants to get out of the glass, out of the
bottle, it is a sugary genie.

"Kidnap, " says Bill, excitedly, "But get this, not a kid, but fifteen
men. The Crooks who stole Arsenal. Think about it - Henry's worth
thirty mill, Vieira twenty-five. That Edward Scissorhands guy, at least
fifteen. The crooks get the coach for an away match, have it away with
the Arse. They send word to the Board of directors - eighty million, or
we start smashing kneecaps. They start with someone fairly dispensable,
just to show they mean business. Who'd you reckon ? "

"Lauren, " I say - neither of us have forgiven him for scoring that
penalty against Spurs a few weeks back, when it was one-all.

"Spot-on, " he says.

"Jesus Bill, " I say to him, "You know plenty of crooks, maybe you
should do this for real. "

I can hear him thinking this over - but one thing I know about Bill is
that he can't stand the thought of jail - it is what drives him in his
work, knowing what the poor bastards he represents are going to face if
he doesn't get them out. That's why I had to think so hard about
calling him.

Calling anyone was risky. I assume that there's a man on all of my
known mates, probably a tap on their home phone too. But I was pretty
confident that they wouldn't have gone to the extreme of tapping the
phone at their local boozers. (Not so confident mind that I'm not
making the call from a payphone eight tube stops and three line changes
away from the hotel. )

Something occurs to me and I say, "Bill, what would you think of if I
said God Save the Queen. "

"Football, " he says immediately, "FA Cup. Anthems. "

"Keep going, " I say.

"Ah, Rule Britannia. How it'll sound when it's God Save the King. Sort
of endings and beginnings - the King is dead, God Save the King. The
Sex Pistols . God Save the Queen, and her fascist regime. Chess,
maybe."

I'm spending too long on the telephone, if they've twigged it's me,
maybe they've already set up the tap. I need to be back on the tube in
fifty seconds.

"Bill, " I say quickly, "Without being obvious, is there someone you
don't know at the bar. Someone that's hanging around. "

He pauses, looks. There is someone there, someone bland and
unremarkable, making small talk with the barmaid, maybe asking for
change, taking small sips of their coke.

"Yeah, " he says.

"Right, " I say, "I'm in bother. These are serious people Bill, so I'm
not going to ask you to get involved or lie to them. They ask you
anything, just cough it up, cough it all up. "

He sounds nervous, but he'll stand up.

"What do you want me to do?"

A minute or so later, Bill walks up to the stranger at the bar, who
tries hard not to make eye contact, pretends to be elsewhere. Bill
says, "Tell Chesterton that Alex wants to come in from the cold. I'll
get something in the post tomorrow that says how. "

* * *

On High Holbourn, about eleven fifteen, a plump man is waiting for a
cab. One slows down for him, but he waves it on, it is not quite time.
The cab with Bill in it arrives and stops. The plump man opens the
door.

"We take it you are Bill? " he asks, politely.

Bill nods and asks him to get in.

"Of course, " says Bill, "You have people following you. You don't mind
if I check for wires, do you ? "

Chesterton smiles, a thin one, not meant. He doesn't like to be
touched, but Bill is gentle with him, although he does check the lining
of Chesterton's suit and his spectacle case.

"Your friend has a high opinion of himself, " says Chesterton, "He
thinks that we are willing to waste my day playing games just to have
the opportunity to speak with him."

"You're here though, " observes Bill and tells the cab driver to set
off, to head for Hammersmith. A good distance from here.

Chesterton fixes Bill with a gaze, sweat beads on his brow and he
speaks fatly, as a man with a mouthful of tea-soaked cake, "We hope
that your friend doesn't bite off more than he is able to chew. Our
interest in him at present is low and reasonably friendly, despite his
involvement in a minor tragedy. "

The cab driver says, "Left at the lights mate ? "

Chesterton sits bolt upright in his seat. It's amazing what you can
convince a London cabbie to do for twenty grand, even lend you a cab
for a day, safe in the knowledge that if you don't return it, he can
call it in nicked and claim on the insurance anyway.

"Right, " I say, from behind the wheel, "There are things we need to
talk about. "