by Terry Morgan
CHAPTER 39
"Bless my soul," said Tom after Kevin had brought him up to date with everything including his chats with Doctor Larry Brown at the American Embassy in Nigeria.
"So what the bloody hell should I do, Tom?"
"Mmm," said Tom, "Ah........."
While he waited, Kevin wiped the egg from his plate with the last of his chips.
"So," he said, licking his fingers, "Any thoughts?"
"No idea," said Tom, "Go to the police? See your MP?"
"Thought of that. Tom - decided against it. "
"Talk to Larry whatsisname?"
"Yes. I'll definitely talk to Larry Brown again but what the bloody hell can he do to protect the Malthus Society from getting tangled up in all this? What's going on here. Tom? Am I being neurotic? Should I just relax like it's nothing to do with me - sit and watch what happens?"
"Yeh," said Tom, "sit for a bit - see what happens. Something will crop up for sure. Then it'll all become clear. That's what I'd do, young man."
Kevin sat back. "Want another pint?"
"I could be persuaded."
Tom pushed his glass towards Kevin who stood ready to go to the bar. But before he could move, Tom grabbed him by the shirt sleeve. "I checked out that fellow, David Solomon," he said.
Kevin stood, beer glasses in hand. "And?"
"He's a bloody nutcase."
Kevin sat down again.
"Why?"
"Don't ask me why, he just is."
"What I mean is why do you say he's a nutcase?"
"I read some of his stuff."
"Yes, you told me, Tom."
"Not that stuff, other stuff. Stuff he wrote for the club in Boston."
"What club?"
"The Malthus Club in Boston, you young fool."
"Sorry," said Kevin, "I'd forgotten they had a separate one. So what did he write?"
"An article called 'The Day of Reckoning'. I read it again last night."
"Yes, but why does that make him a nutcase?
"You read it, see what you make of it," Tom fumbled in the inside pocket of the old jacket that he still wore since his teaching days. "Here," he said and handed over a small bundle of folded sheets of paper.