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Frowning, Danny asks, “How are they making money? Donations?”
“That, and also paid by the government to fund research. The BRP in coalition means they’ll be handing out government money, and the louder Crownery screams against Luke, the more handsomely they’ll be rewarded. It’s not as if you can be pro-Luke and receive funds. Very unpopular. The aims have to match.”
“So a lobby group advising the government is having research fundedbythe government… to give the answers the government wants? The government only talks to pre-approved groups, funded by the government, in favor of Antiro?What?”
“Kerching. Plus, with more of these groups kicking around, it allows those in power to say they’ve consulted with lots of different over-arching monarchy campaign groups, who have all somehow arrived at the same conclusion with a little help from their golden handshakes. It allows them to push ahead with their bounteous vision.”
“Surely that’s corruption,” I murmur, feeling disturbed. Charities are lobby groups trying to make a profit. Producing government-approved research that’s a manifesto of nothing but opinion. I’d thought Antiro had been bad enough, but knowing there are other groups out there to boost their power is day-ruining.
“It’s a power exchange. A symbiotic relationship. The government machine prizes ease and security above actually doing any hard work. Who’s going to exploit this? So-called activists. Campaigners. Faceless officials. They get their bag, and as long as they keep saying the right things, they also get the government’s ear. External agencies can create problems when it’s convenient for them. These activist groups are the tail wagging the dog.”
I let Rory’s words wash over me as he swiftly dismantles the notion of a just political world. Eventually, I manage to summon, “Everything’s fucked, isn’t it?”
Rory shrugs. “It’s always been this way. You’re just noticing because you’ve started paying attention.”
“So then, what’s the point?” I ask, genuinely at a loss. “What’s the point when everything’s stacked against people’s best interests?”
“You can’t let things like this stop you,” Rory says gently. “Politics is always going to attract its lion’s share of chancers. Half of them will be from this very school. Fighting every corrupt idiot is not our job. It doesn’t mean everything’s done for, or that we need to head for the hills quite yet.”
“Naw, but ye huvtae admit… things are gettin’ bleak as fuck oot there.”
“This is good, though,” I say, glancing around the classroom. It’s quiet outside. The door is locked. I feel safer here than at the library, though I’m still intrigued as to what Dr. Moncrieff’s position is these days. Currently, he seems to be striding the fence, which I guess is a kind of progress from the faraway field he started in.
“We’ll still have to dodge teachers when we come out,” Danny points out. “That’s the only thing.”
Rory stretches out his long legs. “That, and we can’t trust Moncrieff.”
This doesn’t surprise me. And yet… “What’s he going to do? Realistically?”
Dropping his voice, Rory answers, “We don’t know what his relationship with Benji’s like. And we’re the only ones who will ever know where Luke is. We could currently be sitting in a trap, being listened to by someone with a very different agenda from us.”
“Okay, the place is not bugged. Nowwe’rethe ones sounding paranoid.”
“We have every right to be,” Rory insists. “More than they have any right to — because we have the most to gain. They’ve swindled the entire British establishment to be at their beck and call and cover up their many stupid mistakes. Right now, we havenothing. We’re just four people in a room. Every move we make needs to be careful. It needs to be analyzed and pre-planned. Luke can still be king, I absolutely believe it, but it means we can’t ever put a foot wrong. We don’t have that luxury at our disposal.”
I understand. Tightropes. Tightropes everywhere. One wrong move, and—
Beside me, Finlay suddenly laughs.
Rory narrows his eyes. “What’s so funny?”
He’s still scanning the newspapers, and from his reaction seems to have struck gold. “Scottish town o’ Crieff? Renamed itselfMoncrieff as a mark o’ respect.”
“Well, that’s… pathetic.”
“This is fuckin’Scotland,” Finlay points out with a bewildered look. “We’re meant tae be better than this. I dinnae know whit the fuck’s goin’ on wi’ this country any mair.” After a moment’s silence, he glances over at Rory. “Maybe Iwilltake that chance tae go back hame. See my maw. See whit shambles is happenin’ on her watch.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Rory says. “I don’t see what good it’ll do.”
“Political gossip is currency,” Finlay points out. “You know that. The spicier, the better.”
“Areanynewspapers supporting Luke’s speech? Or is it just wall-to-wall Antiro?” It seems baffling to me. His speech had been genuine, from the heart, laden with sympathy. None of his measured words deserved vitriol. And still, he gets torn apart as the real monsters point their fingers and call him the devil.
Finlay flicks idly through the array of newspapers fanned across the desks. “No’ really. They a’ just copy each other. No’ an original thought among them. Oh, wait,” he adds suddenly, rifling to the bottom of the pile. He pulls out a lurid publication, whose front cover is devoted to a picture of Oscar Munro with Benji, both of them sporting silly mustaches and a pair of cartoon eyes printed on their faces. The top corner of the newspaper features a busty brunette in tight, pale blue lingerie popping a bottle of champagne in open-mouthed, red-lipped delight, next to the words ‘What A Corker!’
“‘The Daily Toot’?” I say, reading the title in distaste. The text is so loud and garish, my senses feel like they’re under attack. It resembles a comic book more than an actual newspaper — and from the front cover, I imagine it’s probably aimed at those of a similar reading age.
“I put in a request for it last month,” Finlay says. “They’re the only mainstream publication condemnin’ — well,mockin’— everythin’ tae dae wi’ Benji’s rise. Andmainstreamis at a push, because, well, no one’s exactly buyin’ it for the articles.”
