What Will Burn by James Oswald (ebook reader web .txt) 📕

Izzy tensed at the insinuation she might have been responsible for his death, and McLean mentally kicked himself for being knocked off course by her attitude. Had this been a formal interview at the station, he would have been much better prepared and the setting would have kept him on track.

‘I’m not accusing you of anything other than defending yourself. There’s no suggestion that Galloway’s death had anything to do with his injuries. Of the two of them, he had the least damage. Although I’d have thought the broken fingers would have made the reunion tour a bit tricky.’

That got Izzy’s attention, so clearly Harrison hadn’t told her everything. ‘Reunion tour?’ she asked.

‘Aye, did you not know? Brian Galloway was lead singer in a band called the Idle Lunatics. You’re probably a bit young to remember them.’

‘Idle . . . ?’ Izzy’s eyes widened. ‘That was Mad Bastard? No fucking way.’

‘Isobel, dear.’ Madame Rose sat up straighter as the young woman swore. Izzy half shrugged by way of apology.

‘For real? I got jumped by an ageing rock star? That’s so cool.’

McLean could think of other words to describe it, but he decided not to say so. ‘Putting that to one side, there’s nothing that happened that directly links them to Fielding, right?’

Izzy’s eyes narrowed again, her lips pursing. McLean could see the angry tirade coming, raised both hands to stop it before it could start.

‘I’m not trying to defend him, Izzy. Quite the opposite. But I need facts, not conjecture, however well founded it is.’

That seemed to mollify her, at least a little. She crossed her arms and hunched forward like a sulking teenager. Which, McLean supposed, was what she was.

‘OK. Perhaps we can go back a bit further. You were part of the group of women who started protesting outside the Scotston Hotel a while back, right?’

Izzy waggled her head from side to side a little. ‘Part of’s maybe a bit strong. I only went to give my old roomie Jen a bit of moral support. Edinburgh’s a nicer place to be than London these days and I’m trying to get a place at the uni.’

As far as McLean was aware, and judging by the number of fresh-faced young students wandering around the city centre gawping at the sights, the new year had already started. He let it go for now. Izzy didn’t really have to justify why she was in town.

‘How did you find out about Fielding, then? Did this . . . Jen call you?’

‘Christ, what planet are you living on? Janie said you were a bit old-fashioned, but I had no idea.’

McLean couldn’t help looking at Harrison, as she was sitting on the sofa right beside Izzy. She wouldn’t meet his eye. On the other hand, it was probably fair comment.

‘OK, so you know about Fielding because he’s a misogynist creep who runs fathers’ rights campaigns and regularly defends men accused of all manner of horrible crimes against women. That close?’

‘Not even by a whisker. You make him sound like some kind of naughty schoolboy when he’s responsible for most of the far right radicalisation of the past decade. You think he’s just a sexist pig, but he’s far worse than that. White supremacist trash. He’s a domestic terrorist in a smart suit. Part of a group of people systematically undermining our society, and people like you let him.’

Put like that, McLean could understand why Izzy didn’t trust him. But her allegations went a lot further than what he knew of Tommy Fielding, tipping over into the realms of fantasy, perhaps.

‘What makes you think he’s that much of an extremist?’

Izzy rolled her eyes and slumped back into the sofa. ‘Oh, come on. Please. You don’t know about his online hate mobs? His gangs of enforcers? He even calls himself a modern-age Witch Finder General, for fuck’s sake. That’s his user ID, Witchfinder underscore General.’

Madame Rose tutted gently under her breath at the coarse language, but McLean was more concerned with the allegations. ‘Are we talking about the same man here? Tommy Fielding, QC. One of the country’s leading lawyers specialising in divorce and family law?’

‘Is there an echo in here?’ Izzy threw her hands up. ‘Course I’m talking about him. That’s his pretty face for the papers. Dig a little deeper into 8kun and some of the dark web forums, why don’t you? Haven’t you got a department of teenagers who sniff all this alt-right shit out for you? He’s literal slime. Incel-king. I’d throw away my boots if I stepped in him by accident.’

‘You have evidence of this?’ McLean knew it was the wrong thing to say even before the question slipped out.

‘Sure. He’s that open about it you’ve arrested him already and broken up his entire organisation. Oh, hang on. No. You’re too busy arresting us when we try to do something about him and his kind.’

‘You were let go with a caution, but I take your point. The problem is, for all you say Fielding’s a nasty piece of work who sets grown men on to young women who cross him, we don’t have any actual evidence to arrest him.’ McLean leaned forward, resting his forearms on his legs in an attempt to appear less intimidating. ‘I’d suggest you lodge a formal complaint against the two who attacked you, but given they both claimed to have fallen down some stairs, and then one of them died shortly afterwards, that might be a bit counterproductive. If you can give us something better to link Fielding with the kind of crimes you’ve mentioned, then at least I can pass that information on to the NCA.’

Izzy was still defensive, but she seemed to consider his words.

‘I don’t have anything, but you could talk to Mirriam. She’ll know more. That’s why the Burntwoods crowd were protesting Fielding’s conference, after all.’

An eerie silence fell on the room. Harrison’s head snapped up at Izzy’s last words and she stared at McLean for confirmation of what they had both heard.

‘Did you say Burntwoods?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. Mirriam Downham