Lie of the Land Read Online Free PDF Page B

. . .’
    Eric folded his arms and sat back. ‘That’s a lot of swinging by you’ve got planned.’ He pursed his lips. ‘What kind of “big” did this IT guy say the chipset was?’
    Carl shrugged. ‘No idea. He’ll tell me at four.’
    Eric sighed. ‘No story is going to come out of this, got that? You’ll end up under a control order, at this rate. I’m not having another run-in with Nigel, or his prick of a boss, about SCOPE. Not again.’
    Carl nodded. ‘A simple reconnaissance mission.’ He put his hand over his heart. ‘Word of honour.’
    Eric shook his head. ‘Where is IV54? Inverness?’
    â€˜Yes,’ lied Carl. ‘Just outside.’
    â€˜Hmm,’ Eric frowned. ‘Transit clearance will be difficult.’
    â€˜No, it won’t,’ said Carl. ‘The car hasn’t been on the road for six months, and I’m heading north within Area 1 on work-related business, not on a jolly. The nearest white rust infection is in North Yorkshire wheat crops. It ticks all the biosec boxes. If you ask Nigel Fuckface nicely I’m sure he could expedite my transit application, just for the new hydro plant.’
    Eric tried not to laugh. ‘You’ve got it all figured out, eh?’ His face fell and he leant forward. ‘If you cause any trouble at all – if you chase the story – I will let you go, this time. I will. Got that? The board will be delighted if I find some more fat to trim, and you’ll be queuing for polycarb rations at Kelvingrove with the rest of them. Capisce ?’
    As one of only three staffers, Carl felt he could push his luck with Eric, not that it had done him much good story-wise, of late. This time, though, he figured the guy was in no mood for further aggravation. The Emergency Authority could intervene at any time and put its own press people in charge. They could turn the paper into a mouthpiece, if it wasn’t that already.
    â€˜If this chipset proves to be significant, I’ll meet the contact, see what he or she has to say, then leave and do a nice piece up north,’ said Carl, meaning every word. ‘No more than two nights. Straight up and back.’
    There was no sign on his face that Carl was being disingenuous. With a bit of blagging – once up there – he could make it three or even four nights away.
    Eric nodded. ‘Good,’ he said. Grinning, he added, ‘By the way, our friend Nigel says we can refer to injuries sustained by rioters at Kelvingrove, but we can’t go into any details. The phrase “microwave pain stick” is definitely off-limits. Think you can do something with that?’
    â€˜Yeah,’ said Carl. ‘I’ll work up some carefully nuanced truth. Between the lines is where the action is.’

5
    The cellar bar was quiet, lights on low, all comfy booths and jazzfunk fusion. Carl let Jeff buy the drinks. They sat in one of the booths at the back.
    â€˜How’s the dynamic world of cochlear implants?’
    Jeff giggled into his half lager and lime. ‘Barely enough. How’s the grubby world of journalism?’
    Carl girned at his orange juice. ‘A lot grubbier than you could possibly imagine, young man.’
    Jeff asked about the new polycarb factory at Hamilton and the latest on the white rust fungus. The guy was looking for fresh insight, for solid news. Instead, scraps of reliable information were sewn together with educated guesswork, and Carl passed it off, adroitly, as incontrovertible truth. Jeff was impressed. The Emergency Authority would tell Carl the real story, and expect it to be published as they had given it, just as soon as they had decided what the real story was to be. One thing he did know about for certain was the arrival of an aerostat that was to hover over the Central Belt, bristling with all sorts of total awareness kit. It would be the seventh such blimp