Free Dead Right by Peter Robinson Page B

White power and all that. And it didn’t take a lot to get him on his hobby-horse. Just some item in the newspaper, some new opinion poll or crime statistics.”
    “What exactly did he say?”
    “You name it. Asians and West Indians were his chief targets. According to Jason, if something wasn’t done soon the immigrants would take over the country and run it into the ground. Anarchy would follow. Chaos. The law of the jungle. He said you only had to look around you to see what damage they’d done already. AIDS. Drugs. Unemployment. He put them all down to immigrants.” Wayne shook his head again. “It was disgusting, really sick, some of the things he came out with.”
    “Is that why he left?”
    Wayne nodded. “As I said, he didn’t exactly leave. It was more of a mutual parting of the ways, maybe a little more desired on our side than his. But the company paid him off adequately and got rid of him. No blemish on his references, either. I suppose whoever employed him next found out what the bugger was like soon enough. I mean, it’s all very well to crack the odd … you know … off-colour joke, have a bit of a laugh. We all do that, don’t we? But Jason was serious. He didn’t have a sense of humour about these things. Just hatred. A palpable hatred. You could feel it burning out of him when he spoke, see it in his eyes.” Wayne gave a little shudder.
    “Do you know where he got it from?”
    “No idea. Where do people get these things from? Are they born like that? Do we blame the parents? Peers at school? The recession? Society?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably a bit of everything. But I do know that it was always there with Jason, always just beneath the surface, if it wasn’t actually showing. And, of course, we have a number of Asian and West Indian employees here.”
    “Did he ever insult anyone to their face?”
    Wayne rubbed his forehead and glanced away from Banks, out at the bustling business activity through his window. “Mostly he just made them feel uncomfortable,” he said, “but once he went too far. That was enough. One of the secretaries. Milly. Nice woman. From Barbados. Jason usually kept her at arm’s length. Anyway, she got pregnant, and at some point—so she said—when it started to show, Jason made some remark to her about all her kind could do was procreate, and there were too many of them already. Milly was upset, understandably, and she threatened to report him to the Race Relations Board. Well, the directors didn’t want that … you know … the whole operation under the microscope, racism in the workplace and all that … so they asked Jason to leave.”
    “They offered him money?”
    “A fair settlement. Just what he would have got if he’d been made redundant.”
    “And he went quietly?”
    Wayne nodded.
    “Could I speak to Milly?”
    “She’s no longer with the company.”
    “Do you have her address?”
    “I suppose I can tell you. I shouldn’t, but given the circumstances.” He got up, pulled out a file from one of the cabinets against his wall, and told Banks the address. Then he sat down again.
    “Do you know where Jason went after he left here?” Banks asked.
    Wayne shook his head. “Not a clue. He never got in touch again, and I can’t say I was exactly eager to seek him out.”
    “So when he left here he disappeared from your life?”
    “Yes.”
    “Did he have any close friends here?”
    “Not really. I wasn’t even particularly close to him myself. He was a bit of a loner. Never talked about his outside interests, family, girlfriends, that sort of thing. He had no patience with the usual office chit-chat. Except football. He loved to talk about football. Mad about it. On a Monday morning he’d talk about the weekend games for so long it was sometimes hard to get him working at all.”
    “People listened, then? The same ones who were sickened by his racism?”
    Wayne spread his hands. “What can I say? There’s nothing like an