I’m sorry, Duncan, but I quit. I resign. As of now, I don’t work for you any more.” She stopped abruptly, feeling tears beginning to choke her. She snatched up the sheaf of copy from the table where Duncan had laid it, turned, and walked out of the office. No one tried to stop her.
In the ladies’ toilet, she was comprehensively sick. She splashed cold water on her face and took several deep breaths before heading for the offices of Socialism Today.
Here there were no security men on the door to challenge her, no secretaries to vet her. She walked straight up to the big room on the second floor where the journalists worked. Dick was perched on the corner of his desk, his back to her, a phone jammed to his ear. “Yeah, okay…” he said resignedly. “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow it is then. See you.” He slammed the phone down. “Fucking Trots. Who needs them?” he muttered, turning round to reach for his mug of coffee. Catching sight of Lindsay, he actually paled. “Christ! What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ve got a story for you,” she said, opening her bag and taking out another copy of her manuscript.
“Is it to do with the computer print-out?” he demanded.
“Sort of. Among other things. Like murder, kidnapping, GBH, and spying. Interested?”
He shook his head reluctantly. “Sorry, Lindsay. No can do. Listen, I had the heavies round at my place last night about you. It’s a no-no, darling. It may be the best story of the decade, but I’m not touching it.”
A sneer of contempt flickered at the corner of Lindsay’s mouth. “I expected the big boys at the Clarion to wet themselves at the
“thought of prosecution. But I expected you to take that sort of thing in your stride. I thought you were supposed to be the fearless guardian of the public’s right to know?”
Dick looked ashamed and sighed deeply. “It wasn’t prosecution they threatened me with, Lindsay. These are not people who play by the rules. These are not pussycats. These are people who know how to hurt you where you live. They were talking nasty accidents. And they knew all about Marianne and the kiddy. I’ll take risks on my own account, Lindsay, but I’m not having on my conscience anything that might happen to my wife and child. You wouldn’t take chances with Cordelia, would you?”
Lindsay shook her head. Exhaustion surged over her in a wave. “I suppose not, Dick. Okay, I’ll be seeing you.”
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