Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [44]
"Oh, I'll back you up. You can introduce me as representing Rashid. Nobody can say afterwards that we didn't do our best." He looked across the room and saw Grant making for the men's room and got up. "I'll be back."
When he went into the toilet, Grant was just finishing. He turned, pulling up his zipper. For the moment, they were alone.
"What do you want, ponce?"
Rupert kicked him on the right shin, doubled him over with a blow to the stomach, then grabbed the left wrist and twisted the arm straight. He raised a clenched fist.
"How'd you like me to break it for you?"
Grant moaned with pain. "No, please, stop."
Rupert exerted more pressure. Grant cried out and Rupert swung him around and slapped his face. "Now listen to me. I happen to know you're here at Oxford only because all your expenses are paid by an outside scholarship. Do you know who's behind that scholarship? Do you?"
Grant moaned again and shook his head.
"We are. The Rashid Educational Trust. And we can take it away so fast it'll make your head spin. So, step out of line with me again and you'll be out of Oxford and working at McDonald's. Understand?"
"Yes," Grant rubbed his arm, tears in his eyes.
Rupert lit a Marlboro. "So this is what I want you to do."
Alan Grant fumbled in his pocket for a tissue, and his fingers brushed against the pen his brother had sent him. Something, a bad feeling, made him switch it on now.
Rupert took a paper bag from his pocket.
"There are three pieces of candy in there, chocolates. Each has an Ecstasy tablet inside. I want you to offer the girl one during the demonstration."
"Why--why should I do that?"
"Because there's a fair chance you'll be busted by the police when the riot starts, which it will. A drug bust would be very embarrassing for her father, you understand?"
"What happens if the shit doesn't hit the fan? If she takes the pill and doesn't get arrested?"
"There'll be other times. Just get her back to that bus in one piece."
"We aren't coming back tonight."
"Why?"
"My brother's working in Germany. He's got a one-room flat in Wapping. He said I could spend the weekend there."
"And she agreed?"
"Yes."
Rupert shook his head. "She must be hard up. What's the address?"
"Ten Canal Street. It's just up from Canal Wharf on the Thames."
"Do you have a mobile phone?"
"No, just the house phone."
Rupert took out his diary and pencil. "Give me the number," which Grant did. "Right. Now look after her. I'll check you out this evening. Remember, give her the pill during the demonstration. And make sure she doesn't mix it with alcohol. I don't want her sick, Grant, just high. Are we clear?"
Grant mumbled yes.
"And if you say anything--anything--about this to anyone, you will be very, very sorry. Is that clear, too?"
Grant nodded.
"Good. Now you can go."
He gave Grant time to leave, then followed him. Most of the students had gone, but Percy still waited in the booth.
Rupert said, "Come on. Get ready to make your speech," and led the way out.
The coach waited outside the school hall. About forty people were on board and half a dozen students stood on the pavement, chattering in anticipation. Rupert and Percy climbed up into the bus.
"So you're coming with us, sir?" someone called.
"Yes, but against my better judgment. I believe this whole thing could turn very nasty," Percy said.
Someone shouted, "Get stuffed."
"No, seriously. Act of Class Warfare isn't about violence. We're about change, peaceful change. I fear this is a dreadful mistake. We shouldn't go, none of us should go."
Rupert took over. "Listen, my name is Dauncey and I represent the Rashid Educational Trust. As some of you know, we help sponsor Act of Class Warfare, but we can't condone violence of any kind, and believe me, it's going to get violent today. Professor Percy is right--it's the right cause, but the wrong time and place."
The reaction was just what he expected. A chorus of "Why are we waiting?" burst from the back of the coach, and Rupert shrugged. "It's on your own heads,