“I know. I know. But a quote from an extremist looking type would be gold, Laura. Solid bloody gold.”
“No way, Tim. It’s all gone quiet now. Show’s over.”
“You don’t have enough yet.”
Laura put a finger up at the phone. “What am I meant to do Tim? Everybody’s gone. How about Alice Madsen? I’m interviewing her at home this evening...”
“Nah, I don't want a whining victim. Forget her. I need someone with more bite, more snarl. I was thinking...”
Lara shook her head. “Yeah?”
“Remember the guy you interviewed after South Ken? That was raw. His twin brother’s in a coma, right? Use him. Bring him to Whitechapel. Get police action and the mosque in the background. Get him emotional. Think you could make that happen?”
“What? The guy in the coma? Great interview that.”
“Hilarious, Laura. Now, come on. You know what I mean.”
Laura glanced around. “Oh yeah?”
“Get me that killer interview, Laura. Let’s put raw energy into every living room by 7pm.”
“I’ll try, but I’ll need an update on the brother from the hospital first.”
She heard him take an intake of breath. “Er... I’ll put someone on it. Now call that guy.”
“But...”
“I heard what you pitched for. This will help... Or not.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just make it happen, Laura.” The line went dead.
She slipped the phone back into her bag. “Fuck it.”
Ricky sidled up to her. “What did he say? We good to get out of here?”
“No. Bastard says we’re an interview short. Told us to cancel Madsen. Wants a Bin Laden lookalike shouting ‘Allah Akbar’ into the camera or a right-wing fascist chanting ‘to Mecca or death’ with the mosque in shot.”
“Shit.” Ricky clicked his tongue. He nodded his head at Laura. “Be wicked TV though.”
Laura ignored him. “He suggested that guy whose twin brother got caught up in South Ken.” She took a mirror from her bag and checked her look. “You know, the right-wing angle.”
“Oh him. Didn’t you promise him £200?”
“Uh huh.”
“Never paid him, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“So you think he’s gonna drop whatever he’s doing, come over here and do an interview after you messed him over?”
“Let me think.” Laura ran her hand through her hair and pursed her lips. “I’ll have to pay him tonight then, won’t I?”
Ricky folded his arms and stared at her. “No shit, Sherlock?”
Laura’s phone interrupted her. It was a researcher from the office.
“Yes, Gilbert?” She walked away from Ricky, who shrugged and leaned against the van.
“Hi Laura. Tim asked me to give you an update on Darren Cole. You know, the guy injured in South Ken?”
“I know who he is. Go on.”
“He died earlier. The brother was there when they switched off the machine.”
“Shit.” Laura raised her eyes to the sky and shook her head. “Great. Just great. I’m supposed to interview the brother now.”
“Look, Laura. Maybe he’ll want the opportunity to vent?”
“Yeah. More likely to tell me to shove it. Thanks anyway, Gilbert.”
Laura stood by the van, flipped through her notebook and found Lewis Cole’s mobile number. She stared at it until Ricky came over and interrupted her. “Where are we at, Laura?”
“The twin brother died. Turned off the machine.”
“Burnham know that?”
“Probably.”
“Not known as the Bastard for nothing, eh?”
Laura tapped her notebook with hand and shook her head. “I feel mean. You know, ringing the guy.”
Ricky laughed. “You know what Burnham would say?”
Laura waved her hand at him. “Go on. Tell me.”
“You're a journalist, Laura. Don’t get a conscience. Get a story.”
“Fuck it. You're right.” She looked at the others and put a finger to her lips. Then she tapped in Cole’s number and took a deep breath.
“Hi Lewis.”
“Who’s this?”
“Laura Bowfield. Xtra News. You did an interview with us after South Ken. Remember?
“Yeah. You still owe me £200.”
“I know. I have it with me. Listen, Lewis...”
“What?”
“I’m really sorry to hear about your brother.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Must have been awful.”
“What do you want?”
Laura winced and held her breath. “Did you, um, hear about the revenge attack near Whitechapel Mosque?”
“Yeah. Nasty that. How many did they get?”
“Not sure. Lewis.” Laura exhaled and couldn’t prevent a smile. “Say, could you come to Whitechapel and do another interview on live TV with me?”
“About what?”
“Maybe how sad it was to lose your brother and how these terror attacks impact on people?”
“How much?”
“Um, we don't have much of a budget.”
“Same as last time then. £200.”
“I don't know about that.”
“Yeah, well. I’m skint right now.”
“Think about it, Lewis. You can tell people how much Darren meant to you.”
“No money, no interview.”
“But Lewis, you can honour Darren...” She counted to three in her head. Then she heard Cole scoff through the phone, and she gritted her teeth.
“Yeah right,” Cole said. “What about my £200?”
“I’m not in a position to offer you much.”
“You did the last time and ducked outta paying me. So seems only fair to ask for the same amount. And you're the one phoning me and all.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Okay. Jeez, Lewis. Where did you learn to negotiate? You’re good. All right, you’ve got a deal.”
“Plus the cab fare over.”
“Yeah fine.”
“And you pay me tonight. Cash.”
“Yes. No problem. Can you come now? Where are you?”
“Bethnal Green. It’s about ten minutes in a cab.”
When she killed the call, she shivered and felt her pulse rise.
109
Cole’s Xanax fuelled grin widened as he set the phone down beside the keyboard.
