White Riot Read Online Free PDF

I’d better ask.’ Another smile, another over-long eye lock. ‘You look just like her. Lillian. When she was your age. The image of her.’
    Peta felt her face reddening, hoped it was just the heat. ‘So who is it you want protecting from?’
    He smiled, eyes going twinkly-crinkly in the corners, sun glinting on his teeth. ‘Myself, mainly.’
    Enough. He needed some serious mental realignment and quick focusing.
    ‘Mr Whitman—’
    ‘Trevor, please.’
    ‘Mr Whitman, let’s get some ground rules established. This is not a leisurely afternoon with friends and family. We’re not on a date. You want to employ me in a professional capacity. So without meaning to be rude, let’s talk business.’
    Whitman sat back, humbled and fumbling for words. Blushing. Peta definitely with the upper hand now. She waited, her silence the tool he needed to dig himself out. From the kitchen her mother clattered about.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘That’s not what … I didn’t mean to give that impression. Very unprofessional among other things. Yes, you’re right. Let’s get on with it.’
    ‘Good,’ said Peta, clearly in control. ‘Now what’s the problem?’
    ‘You’re an information broker,’ Whitman said eventually, after searching for the right approach. ‘That’s what I need. Information.’
    ‘About what?’
    ‘Or who.’ He sat back, took a mouthful of his drink.Looked at her, his eyes cold ashes, whatever was in them earlier now burned out. The garden umbrella cast a long shadow over his face. ‘What d’you know about me or my background?’
    Peta’s mind flicked over the notes she had made before the meeting. ‘Political radical. Heyday was the early Seventies.’
    Whitman winced. Peta enjoyed his reaction but didn’t glory in it. She continued.
    ‘North-eastern working-class boy, got a scholarship to university. Newcastle redbrick.’
    ‘Where I met Philip and Lillian.’
    ‘Became politicized there. Left, set up an Angry Brigade splinter group, the Hollow Men.’
    ‘After T. S. Eliot. Satire.’
    ‘And that group was responsible for acts of violence against the state—’
    ‘Ah, now that’s not fair—’
    Peta continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. ‘—including attacks on the police, various Tory MPs and the firebombing of a pub full of off-duty policemen. Eventually the Hollow Men disbanded, an acrimonious split. Repented of earlier actions in the Eighties, was never charged for anything. Attempted to become Member of Parliament for the SDP in ’82, was unsuccessful. Went into teaching at university level, became a lecturer in psychology and sociology.’ She sat back, smiling, trying to play down the smugness she felt. ‘How am I doing?’
    Whitman was impressed. ‘Very good.’ He smiled. ‘Disbanded, acrimonious split, make us sound like a rock band.’
    ‘Wasn’t that the intention? Politics the new rock ’n’ roll?’
    Whitman smiled wistfully. ‘Different time. When politics meant something. When rock ’n’ roll meant something.’ The smile faded. ‘And I’d take exception to that descriptionof crimes against the state. We were never terrorists. We were freedom fighters. Revolutionaries, not terrorists. That’s what radical politics were like back then.’
    ‘Different time.’ She nodded, clearly unconvinced.
    He drank his drink.
    ‘So how can I help you now?’
    Whitman seemed to think hard, then continued. ‘Well, as you know, I’ve recently written my biography. I didn’t expect it to knock
The Da Vinci Code
off the top of the best-seller chart, but I thought it might attract some interest in – shall we say? – academic circles.’ His voice, once he became interested in his own words, was rich and sonorous. Yet, Peta noticed, still betrayed his north-east origins. ‘Political journals, that sort of thing. I wasn’t prepared for what happened.’
    Peta leaned forward, interested. ‘What happened?’
    Whitman opened his mouth but seemed reticent to