Dead Air by Iain Banks Read Free Book Online

moment.’
    ‘ Death threat?’ Nikki asked, wide eyes twinkling.
    ‘Yes, my dear, from funny, sleepy old Northern Ireland, where time stands still. I’d said let the Orangemen walk through Catholic areas, but for every march they got to take part in, a similar-size one had to be allowed through Loyalist areas, with tricolours, posters of Bobby Sands—’
    ‘Seventies hunger-striker and Republican martyr,’ Phil squeezed in.
    ‘—lots of hearty singing of Republican songs; that sort of thing,’ I continued. ‘Which sort of developed into my patent three-word solution for the Troubles: “United, federal, secular. Now get on with it.”’
    ‘That’s eight words,’ Phil mumbled.
    ‘I was allowing for subsequent editing,’ I said, looking brightly at Nikki. ‘Anyway, exception was duly taken; they’re awfully touchy over there.’
    Phil cleared his throat. ‘I think your humorous observation about the Red Hand of Ulster being a symbol of a land won by a loser prepared to mutilate himself to claim a scraggy patch of rain-lashed bog may have contributed to your healthy fan-base in the Shankhill, too.’
    ‘See? You try to bring out the local colour in some quaint little part of the Provinces and these silly people insist on taking it all the wrong way.’
    ‘I’m sure your Nobel Peace Prize is in the post, Uncle Ken,’ Nikki said. ‘This one?’
    ‘First international death threat,’ I said. ‘All due to our then spanking-new web-feed. Back to the old gun control debate again. I was arguing for, if memory serves. But I was making the point that in the US it was all too late; they’d made their bed and they damn well had to lie in it. In the States I was for no gun control laws at all. In fact in the States I reckoned guns should be made compulsory for all teenagers. Might produce a grand kill-off, of course, but who’s to say that was such a bad thing in the end? That way there’d be less of the little bastards to bother the rest of the world. And why stop at just hand-guns and automatic weapons? Let’s get with grenade launchers, pull down some mortar and mines action, get jiggy with some surface to air ordnance and serious-calibre heavy weaponry. Chemical and biological weapons, too; they’re kind of the green option, in a wacky sort of way. Long-range missiles. Nukes too. And if some dickhead with a grudge decides to waste Manhattan or Washington with one of these, well, too bad. That’s the price you pay for freedom.’
    Nikki looked at me. ‘And they pay you for this, Ken?’
    ‘Young lady, for this they don’t just pay me, they compete for me.’
    ‘He’s a hot DJ,’ Phil said.
    ‘There you are,’ I told her.
    ‘Yup, hot like a potato,’ Phil said.
    I smiled at Nikki. ‘He’s going to say, “Always getting dropped …”’
    ‘Always getting dropped.’
    ‘… Told you.’
     
    ‘Now, Nikki. Are you sure I can’t take you for lunch?’
    ‘Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.’
    ‘But you must be hungry.’
    ‘No, I’d better get back. Books to order, stuff to read, you know.’
    ‘Flying start at the Chinese course.’
    ‘That’s the idea.’
    We were sitting in my ancient Land Rover in the office’s underground car park, waiting for the engine’s plugs to warm up.
    ‘Are you sure I can’t take you for something to eat? Come on; it’ll make up for not meeting Lord Thom of Yorke. I was all set to deliver this great treat and then I was thwarted. I really feel I need closure here. Seriously; I know some great places. We may well see some celebs.’
    ‘No, thanks.’
    ‘Is that your final answer?’
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘Would you like to call a friend?’
    ‘No, really. Look, you don’t have to drive me back to Craig’s, Ken. I can jump in a taxi.’
    ‘Jump?’
    ‘Well; hobble, fall in. Honest. I don’t mind.’
    ‘Not at all. I promised your dad I’d get you home safely.’
    ‘I can look after myself, you know, Ken,’ Nikki said, smiling indulgently at me.
    ‘Never