‘Don’t touch that,’ shouted Dominic urgently as Ros reached towards them.
She dropped the envelope and a shower of nails fell out on to the floor.
‘Brian, what’s going on?’ she asked, feeling increasingly panicked.
‘Get off me,’ he shouted, and charged forward like a dog on a leash, his chest pushed out, a bluish vein protruding on his forehead. Dom had to restrain him with both hands.
‘What is going on?’ Ros screamed.
‘Two years we’ve spent doing this, Ros. Two years. And what notice have people taken of anything we have done? None.’ Brian’s teeth were bared, and there was spittle dripping from the corner of his mouth.
‘What is that on the desk?’ she asked, her voice shaking with panic.
‘Gelignite,’ replied Dominic quickly. ‘Tell her, Brian. Tell Ros what you’re doing here so late at night. You’re making a parcel bomb, aren’t you?’
‘People need to take notice,’ hissed Brian, his eyes angry and unrepentant.
‘And you’re prepared to kill to make yourself heard?’ Dom applied more pressure to his restraint. He glanced at Ros, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was praying she knew nothing about this.
‘I didn’t know,’ she whispered.
‘We need to call the police,’ said Dominic after a moment.
‘The police?’ she repeated, feeling panic swell in her throat. She started to sob. ‘But they’ll close down the group.’
‘Where’s the nearest phone?’ asked Dom, his voice calm and clear.
‘There’s one in the hall by the front door, but I think we’ve been cut off.’
‘Then find a phone box and call this number,’ he said, reciting some digits.
She grabbed a pen, her hands shaking as she wrote down the number.
‘Who should I speak to?’
‘My friend will answer. Tell him I asked you to call. Give him this address and come back as quickly as you can, you understand me?’
Ros nodded, and headed out of the office.
She ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time, almost stumbling on her kitten heels.
The hall phone was out of order – she couldn’t recall paying any bill for a very long time – but she knew there was a phone box fifty yards away on Brewer Street. She ran out of the front door and down the street, the lights of Soho passing by in tear-blurred stripes of red and hot pink.
She called Dom’s friend. The conversation was short. She had no idea who he was, but he seemed to understand what was being asked of him with brisk efficiency.
When she returned to the DAG office, Brian was gone. She could hear banging sounds coming from inside the toilet. Dominic was rubbing his hand.
‘Have you locked him in there?’ she asked, noticing that there was a chair pushed up against the door.
Dom nodded.
‘I bet he went in there willingly,’ she said grimly. ‘You’ve torn your jacket,’ she added, touching a seam that had come apart.
He shrugged and pulled a cigarette packet from his pocket.
‘I think I need one of those,’ said Ros.
He lit one for her and then put one in his own mouth, getting a light from the glowing end of Ros’s.