It was an Edinburgh-based Ferrante worker who tried to flee the Marconi death machine……I found out in a moment that would seem like a moment in a corny film…..an aging alcoholic, black stubble permanently on his chin, whom they called Old Murdo…..regularly given soup by Seeds staff, the staff of our tiny vegan watering hole, it was early in a 1994 blazing sunshine afternoon, hardly anybody was there. Old Murdo was sitting on his own eating his soup, and I entered the restaurant earlier than usual, sat down to eat the sweet and sour chestnut dish that was one of the best meals they regularly did…..
Suddenly Murdo burst out with “They killed um!” “They killed um coz i state secrets!!!” A bit of quietness while Murdo ate his soup, then again, “They killed um! It wiz state secrets!”
I didn’t say anything in response, just ate my choice from the limited menu, though I could have eaten that chestnut recipe every day. I eventually expressed interest, but Murdo got a bit too enthusiastic, in the sense of him responding, “Ye should pay me fuckin’ millions yuh cunt!” “If ye pay me enuff I’ll fuckin’ tell ye!” But paying people just reduces a story’s credibility, it wasn’t a question of what was in my bank, and friends began arriving.
After a while, the grapevine gave me the story that a Ferrante employee had fled a death squad……..he had had the idea of disguising himself as one of many alcoholics living in doss-houses in Edinburgh’s Grassmarket as his idea for escaping the executioners……I get the impression this death squad tracked him down, and if they didn’t kill him in front of the alcoholic dossers, his execution was very close to that. The local rag described a dosser found dead, exploiting the Ferrante worker’s effort to hide amongst the alcoholics, by just calling him an alcoholic anyway, found dead in the Grassmarket.
Old Murdo died soon afterwards, but that was probably accurate; he was sitting alone on a park bench in Edinburgh’s The Meadows, then just keeled over, painting rather a sad picture.