. Time enough for contemplation
‘I hadn’t thought that Chuzzlewit was a popular book, but I was wrong. Not one of us expected the public outcry and media attention that his murder provoked. Mr Quaverley’s autopsy was a matter of public record; his burial was attended by 150,000 Dickens fans from around the globe. Braxton Hicks told us to say nothing about the LiteraTec involvement, but news soon leaked out.’Braxton Hicks threw the newspaper on the desk in front of us. He paced around for a bit before collapsing heavily into his chair.
‘I want to know who told the press,’ he announced. Jack Schitt was leaning on the window frame and watching us all while smoking a rather small arid foul-smelling Turkish cigarette. The headline was unequivocal:death: SpecOps blamed It went on to outline specifically how ‘unnamed sources’ within Swindon SpecOps had intimated that a botched ransom payment had been the cause of Quaverley’s death. It was arse about face but the basic facts were correct. It had placed Hicks under a lot of pressure and caused him to overspend his precious budget by a phenomenal amount to try to discover Hades’ whereabouts. The spotter plane that Bowden and I had pursued had been found a burned-out wreck in a field on the English side of Hay-on-Wye. The Gladstone full of the counterfeit money was close by along with the ersatz Gainsborough. It hadn’t fooled Acheron for one second. We were all convinced that Hades was in Wales but even political intervention at the highest level had drawn a blank—the Welsh Home Secretary himself had sworn that they would not knowingly stoop to harbour such a notorious criminal. With no jurisdiction on the Welsh side of the border, our searches had centred around the Marches—to no avail.
‘If the press found out, it wasn’t from us,’ said Victor. ‘We have nothing to gain from press coverage and everything to lose.’ He glanced over at Jack Schitt, who shrugged.
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Schitt non-committally, ‘I’m just an observer, here at the behest of Goliath.’got up and paced the room. Bowden, Victor and I watched him in silence. We felt sorry for him; he wasn’t a bad man, just weak. The whole affair was a poisoned chalice, and if he wasn’t removed by the regional SpecOps commander, Goliath would as likely as not do the job themselves.
‘Does anyone have any ideas?’all looked at him. We had a few ideas, but nothing that could be said in front of Schitt; since he was so willing to let us be killed that evening at Archer’s place, not one of us would have given Goliath so much as the time of day.
‘Has Mrs Delamare been traced?’
‘We found her okay,’ I replied. ‘She was delighted to discover that she had a motorway services named after her. She hasn’t seen her son for five years but is under surveillance in case he tries to make contact.’
‘Good,’ murmured Braxton. ‘What else?’spoke.
‘We understand Felix has been replaced. A young man named Danny Chance went missing from Reading; his face was found in a waste basket on the third floor of the multistorey. We’ve distributed the morgue photos of Felix; they should match the new Felix.’
‘Are you sure Archer didn’t say anything but “Felix” before you killed him?’ asked Hicks.
‘Positive,’ assured Bowden in his best lying voice.returned to the LiteraTec office in a glum mood. Braxton’s removal might provoke a dangerous shake-up in the department, and I had Mycroft and Polly to think of. Victor hung up his coat and called across to Finisterre, asking him if there had been any change. Finisterre looked up from a much-thumbed copy of Chuzzlewit. He, Bailey and Herr Bight had been rereading it on a twenty-four-hour relay basis since Acheron’s escape. Nothing seemed to have changed. It was slightly perplexing. The Forty brothers had been working on the only piece of information we had that SO-5 or Goliath didn’t. Sturmey Archer had made a reference to a Dr Mьller before expiring and that had been the subject of a rigorous search on SpecOps and police databases. A rigorous yet secretive search; that was what had taken the time.
‘Anything, Jeff?’ asked Victor, rolling up his shirtsleeves.coughed.
‘There are no Dr Mьllers registered in England or on the Continent, either in medicine or philosophy–‘
‘So it’s a false name.’
‘—who are alive.’ Jeff smiled. ‘However, there was a Dr Mьller in attendance at Parkhurst prison in 1972.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘It was at the same time that Delamare was banged up for fraud.’is getting better.’
‘And Delamare had a cellmate named Felix Tabularasa.’
‘There’s a face that fits,’ murmured Bowden.
‘Right. Dr Mьller was already under investigation for selling donor kidneys. He committed suicide in ‘74 shortly before the hearing. Swam into the sea after leaving a note. His body was never recovered.’rubbed his hands together happily.
‘Sounds like a faked death. How do we go about hunting down a dead man?’held up a fax.
‘I’ve had to use up a lot of favours at the English Medical Council; they don’t like giving out personal files whether the subject is alive or dead, but here it is.’took the fax and read out the pertinent points.
‘Theodore Mьller. Majored in physics before pursuing a career in medicine. Struck off in ‘74 for gross professional misconduct. He was a fine tenor, a good Hamlet at Cambridge, Brother of the Most Worshipful Order of the Wombat, keen train-spotter and a founder member of the Earthcrossers.’
‘Hmm,’ I murmured. ‘It’s a good bet that he might continue to indulge himself in old hobbies even if he was living under an assumed name.’
‘What do you suggest?’ asked Victor. ‘Wait until the next steam train extravaganza? I understand the Mallard is defending her speed record next month.’
‘Not soon enough.’
‘The Wombats never disclose membership,’ observed Bowden.nodded. ‘Well, that’s that, then.’
‘Not exactly,’ I said slowly.
‘Go on.’
‘I was thinking more about someone infiltrating the next Earthcrossers meeting.’
‘Earthcrossers?’ said Victor with more than his fair share of incredulity. ‘You’ve got no chance, Thursday. Weird lunatics doing strange things privately on deserted hillsides? Do you know what you have to go through to be admitted to their exclusive club?’smiled.
‘It’s mostly distinguished and respected professional people of mature years.’looked at Bowden and myself in turn.
‘I don’t like that look you’re giving me.’quickly scoured a copy of the current Astronomer’s Almanac.
‘Bingo. It says here that they meet on Liddington Hill at two p.m. the day after tomorrow. That gives us fifty-five hours to prepare.’
‘No way,’ said Victor indignantly. ‘There is no way, I repeat, no way on God’s own earth that you are going to get me to pose as an Earthcrosser.’
. The Earthcrossers
‘An asteroid can be any size from a man’s fist to a mountain. They are the detritus of the solar system, the rubbish left over after the workmen have been and gone. Most of the asteroids around today occupy a space between Mars and Jupiter. There are millions of them, yet their combined mass is a fraction of the Earth’s. Every now and then an asteroid’s orbit coincides with that of Earth. An Earthcrosser. To the Earthcrossers Society the arrival of an asteroid at a planet is the return of a lost orphan, a prodigal son. It is a matter of some consequence.’Hill overlooks the RAF and later Luftwaffe airfield of Wroughton. The low hill is also home to an Iron Age fort, one of several that ring the Marlborough and Lambourn downs. The antiquity of the site, however, was not what attracted the Earthcrossers. They had gathered in almost every country of the globe, following the peculiar predictions of their calling in an apparently random fashion. They always observed the same routine: name the site, do a very good deal with the owners for exclusivity, then move in the month before using either local security or more junior members of the group to ensure that no infiltrators find their way in. It was perhaps due to this extreme secrecy that the militant astronomical group managed to keep what they did absolutely quiet. It seemed an almost perfect hiding place for Dr Mьller, who co-devised the society in the early fifties with Samuel Orbiter, a notable television astronomer of the time. Victor parked his car and walked nonchalantly up to two huge gorilla-sized men who were standing next to a Land Rover. Victor looked to the left and right. Every three hundred yards was a group of armed security men with walkie-talkies and dogs, keeping an eye out for trespassers. There was no way on earth that anyone could slip by unseen. The best means of entering anywhere you aren’t allowed to go is to walk in the front door as though you own the place.
‘Afternoon,’ said Victor, attempting to walk past. One of the gorillas stepped into his way and put a huge hand on his shoulder.
‘Good afternoon, sir. Fine day. May I see your pass?’
‘Of course,’ said Victor, fumbling in his pocket. He produced the pass inserted behind the worn plastic window of his wallet. If the gorillas took it out and saw that it was a photocopy, then all would be lost.
‘I haven’t seen you around before, sir,’ said one of the men suspiciously.
‘No,’ replied Victor evenly, ‘you’ll see from my card that I belong to the Berwick-upon-Tweed spiral arm.’first man passed the wallet to his comrade.
‘We’ve been having problems with infiltrators, isn’t that so, Mr Europa?’second man grunted and passed the wallet back to Victor.
‘Name?’ asked the first, holding up a clipboard.
‘I probably won’t be on the list,’ said Victor slowly. ‘I’m a latecomer. I called Dr Mьller last night.’
‘I don’t know of any Dr Mьller,’ said the first, sucking in air through his teeth as he looked at Victor with narrowed eyes, ‘but if you are an Earthcrosser you will have no problem telling me which of the planets has the highest density.’looked from one to the other and laughed. They laughed with him.
‘Of course not.’took a step forward but the smile on the men’s faces dropped. One of them put out another massive hand to stop him.
‘Well?’
‘This is preposterous,’ said Victor indignantly. ‘I’ve been an Earthcrosser for thirty years and I’ve never had this sort of treatment before.’
‘We don’t like infiltrators,’ said the first man again. ‘They try to give us a bad name. Do you want to know what we do to bogus members? Now. Again. Which of the planets has the highest density?’looked at the two men, who looked back at him menacingly.
‘It’s Earth. The lowest is Pluto, okay?’two security men were not yet convinced.
‘Kindergarten stuff, mister. How long is a weekend on Saturn?’miles away in Bowden’s car, Bowden and I were frantically calculating the answer and transmitting it down the line to the earpiece that Victor was wearing. The car was stuffed with all sorts of reference books on astronomy; all that we could hope was that none of the questions would be too obscure.
‘Twenty hours,’ said Bowden down the line to Victor.
‘About twenty hours,’ said Victor to the two men.
‘Orbital velocity of Mercury?’
‘Would that be aphelion or perihelion?’
‘Don’t get smart, pal. Average will do.’
‘Let me see now. Add the two together and—Ah, good Lord, is that a ringed chaffinch?’two men didn’t turn to look.
‘Well?’
‘It’s, um, 106,000 miles per hour.’
‘Uranus’s moons?’
‘Uranus?’ replied Victor, stalling for time. ‘Don’t you think it’s amusing that they changed the pronunciation?’
‘The moons, sir.’
‘Of course. Oberon, Titania, Umb—‘
‘Hold it! A real Earthcrosser would have logged the closest first!’sighed as Bowden reversed the order over the airwaves.
‘Cordelia, Ophelia, Bianca, Cressida, Desdemona, Juliet, Portia, Rosalind, Belinda, Puck, Miranda, Ariel, Umbriel, Titania and Oberon.’two men looked at Victor, nodded and then stepped back to let him pass, their manner changed abruptly to acute politeness.
‘Thank you, sir. Sorry about that but, as I’m sure you realise, there are very many people who would like to see us stopped. I’m sure you understand.’
‘Of course, and may I congratulate you on your thoroughness, gentlemen. Good-day.’Victor walked by they stopped him again.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something, sir?’turned. I had wondered about some sort of password, and if that was what they wanted now we were sunk. He decided to let them lead the situation.
‘Leave it in the car, sir?’ asked the first man after a pause. ‘Here, borrow mine.’security man reached inside his jacket and pulled out, not a gun as Victor expected, but a baseball catcher’s glove. He smiled and handed it over.
‘I dare say I won’t make it up there today.’slapped his own forehead with the ball of his hand.
‘Mind like a string bag. I must have left it at home. Imagine, coming to an Earthcrossers meet and forgetting my catcher’s glove!’all laughed with him dutifully; the first guard said:
‘Have a good time, sir. Earthstrike is at 14:32.’thanked them both and hopped into the waiting Land Rover before they changed their minds. He looked at the catcher’s glove uneasily. What on earth were they up to?Land Rover dropped him at the east entrance to the hill-fort. He could see about fifty people milling around, all wearing steel helmets. A large tent had been set up in the centre of the fort and it bristled with aerials and a large satellite dish. Farther up the hill was a radar scanner that revolved slowly. He had expected to see a large telescope or something, but no such apparatus seemed to have been set up.
‘Name?’turned to see a small man staring up at him. He was holding a clipboard and wearing a steel helmet and seemed to be taking full advantage of his limited authority.attempted a bluff.’s me there,’ he said, pointing at a name at the bottom of the list.
‘Mr Continued Overleaf, are you?’
‘Above that,’ Victor countered hurriedly.
‘Mrs Trotswell?’
‘Oh, er, no. Ceres. Augustus Ceres.’small man consulted his list carefully, running a steel ballpoint pen down the row of names.
‘No one of that name here,’ he said slowly, looking at Victor suspiciously.
‘I’m from Berwick-upon-Tweed,’ explained Victor. ‘Late entry. I don’t suppose the news filtered through. Dr Mьller said I could drop in any time.’small man jumped.
‘Mьller? There’s no one here of that name. You must mean Dr Cassiopeia.’ He winked and smiled broadly. ‘Okay. Now,’ he added, consulting his list and looking round the fort, ‘we’re a bit thin on the outer perimeter. You can take station 63. Do you have a glove? Good. What about a helmet? Never mind. Here, take mine; I’ll get another from stores. Earthstrike at 14:32. Good-day.’took the helmet and wandered off in the direction that the small man had indicated.
‘Hear that, Thursday?’ he hissed. ‘Dr Cassiopeia.’
‘I heard it,’ I replied. ‘We’re seeing what we’ve got on him.’was already contacting Finisterre, who was waiting back at the LiteraTec office for just such a call.filled his briar pipe and was walking towards station 63 when a man in a Barbour jacket nearly marched straight into him. He recognised Dr Mьller’s face from the mugshot immediately. Victor raised his hat, apologised and walked on.
‘Wait!’ yelled Mьller. Victor turned. Mьller raised an eyebrow and stared at him.
‘Haven’t I seen your face somewhere else?’
‘No, it’s always been right here on the front of my head,’ replied Victor, attempting to make light of the situation. Mьller simply stared at him with a blank expression as Victor carried on filling his pipe.
‘I’ve seen you somewhere before,’ continued Mьller, but Victor was not so easily shaken.
‘I don’t think so,’ he announced, offering his hand. ‘Ceres,’ he added. ‘Berwick-upon-Tweed spiral arm.’
‘Berwick-upon-Tweed, eh?’ said Mьller. ‘Then you know my good friend and colleague Professor Barnes?’
‘Never heard of him,’ announced Victor, guessing that Mьller was suspicious. Mьller smiled and looked at his watch. ‘Earthstrike in seven minutes, Mr Ceres. Perhaps you’d better take your station.’lit his pipe, smiled and walked off in the direction he had been given earlier. There was a stake in the ground marked 63, and he stood around feeling slightly stupid. All the other Earthcrossers had donned their helmets and were scanning the sky to the west. Victor looked around and caught the eye of an attractive woman of about his own age a half-dozen paces away at 62.
‘Hello!’ he said cheerfully, tipping his helmet.woman fluttered her eyelashes demurely.
‘All well?’ she asked.
‘Top hole!’ returned Victor elegantly, then added quickly: ‘Actually, not. This is my first time.’lady smiled at him and waved her catcher’s glove.
‘Nothing to it. Catch away from the body and keep your eyes sharp. We may get a lot or none at all, and if you do catch one, be sure to put it down on the grass straight away. After deaccelerating through the earth’s atmosphere, they tend to be a trifle hot.’stared at her.
‘You mean, we aim to catch meteors?’lady laughed a delicious laugh.
‘No, no, silly—! They’re called meteorites. Meteors are things that burn up in the Earth’s atmosphere. I’ve been to seventeen of these suspected Earthstrikes since ‘64. I once nearly caught one in Tierra del Fuego in ‘71. Of course,’ she added more slowly, ‘that was when dear George was still alivecaught his eye and smiled. Victor smiled back. She carried on: ‘If we witness an Earthstrike today, it will be the first predicted strike in Europe to be successful. Imagine catching a meteorite! The rubble made during the creation of the universe over four and a half billion years ago! It’s like an orphan finally coming home!’
‘Very… poetic,’ responded Victor slowly as I started talking in his ear by way of the wire.
‘There’s no one listed anywhere by the name of Dr Cassiopeia,’ I told him. ‘For goodness’ sake don’t let him out of your sight!’
‘I won’t,’ replied Victor, looking around for Mьller.
‘Pardon?’ asked the lady at 62, who had being eyeing him up and not staring at the sky at all.
‘I won’t, er, drop one if I catch one,’ he replied hurriedly.Tannoy announced the Earthstrike in two minutes. There was a murmur from the expectant crowd.
‘Good luck!’ said the lady, giving him a broad wink and staring up into the cloudless sky.was a voice from close behind Victor.
‘I do remember you.’turned to see the very unwelcome face of Dr Mьller staring at him. A little farther on stood a burly security guard, hand at the ready in his breast pocket.
‘You’re SpecOps. LiteraTec. Victor Analogy, isn’t it?’
‘No, the name’s Dr Augustus Ceres, Berwick-upon-Tweed.’ Victor laughed nervously and added: ‘What sort of a name is Victor Analogy?’ьller beckoned to the henchman, who advanced on Victor drawing his automatic. He looked like the sort of person who was itching to use it.
‘I’m sorry, my friend,’ said Mьller kindly, ‘but that’s not really good enough. If you are Analogy, you’re clearly meddling. If, however, you turn out to be Dr Ceres from Berwick-upon-Tweed, then you have my sincerest apologies.’
‘Now wait a moment—‘ began Victor, but Mьller interrupted.
‘I’ll let your family know where to find the body,’ he said magnanimously.glanced around for possible help but all the other Earthcrossers were staring at the sky.
‘Shoot him.’henchman smiled, his finger tightening on the trigger. Victor winced as a high-pitched scream filled the air and a fortuitous incoming meteorite shattered on the henchman’s helmet.collapsed like a sack of potatoes. The gun went off and put a neat hole in Victor’s baseball glove. Suddenly, the air was full of red-hot meteorites screaming to earth in a localised shower. The assembled Earthcrossers were thrown into confusion by the sudden violence and couldn’t quite make up their minds whether to avoid the meteorites or try to catch them. Mьller fumbled in his jacket pocket for his own pistol as someone yelled ‘Yours!’ close at hand. They both turned, but it was Victor who caught the small meteorite. It was about the size of a cricket ball and was still glowing red hot; he tossed it to Mьller, who instinctively caught it. Sadly, he did not have a catcher’s glove. There was a hiss and a yelp as he dropped it, then a cry of pain as Victor took the opportunity to thump him on the jaw with a speed that belied his seventy-five years. Mьller went down like a ninepin and Victor leaped on the dropped gun. He thrust it against Mullet’s neck, dragged him to his feet and started to march him out of the hill-fort. The meteorite shower was easing up as he backed out, my voice in his earpiece telling him to go easy.
‘It is Analogy, isn’t it?’ said Mьller.
‘It is. SpecOps 27 and you’re under arrest.’, Bowden and I had got Mьller as far as Interview Room 3 before Braxton and Schitt realised who we had captured. Victor had barely asked Mьller to confirm his name before the interview room door burst open. It was Schitt flanked by two SO-9 operatives. None of them looked like they had a sense of humour.
‘My prisoner, Analogy.’
‘My prisoner, Mr Schitt, I think,’ replied Victor firmly. ‘My collar, my jurisdiction; I am interviewing Dr Mьller about the Chuzzlewit theft.’Schitt looked at Commander Hicks, who was standing behind him. The commander sighed and cleared his throat.
‘I’m sorry to say this, Victor, but the Goliath Corporation and their representative have been granted jurisdiction over SO-27 and SO-9 in Swindon. Withholding material from Acting SpecOps Commander Schitt may result in criminal proceedings for concealment of vital information pertinent to an on-going inquiry. Do you understand what this means?’
‘It means Schitt does what he pleases,’ returned Victor.
‘Relinquish your prisoner, Victor. The Goliath Corporation takes precedence.’stared at him hotly, then pushed his way out of the interview room.
‘I’d like to stay,’ I requested.
‘No chance,’ said Schitt. ‘An SO-27 security clearance is not permissible.’
‘It’s as well, then,’ I replied, ‘that I still hold an SO-5 badge.’Schitt cursed but said nothing more. Bowden was ordered out and the two SO-9 operatives stood either side of the door; Schitt and Hicks sat down at the table behind which Mьller nonchalantly smoked a cigarette. I leaned against the wall and impassively watched the proceedings.
‘He’ll get me out, you know,’ Mьller said slowly as he smiled a rare smile.
‘I don’t think so,’ remarked Schitt. ‘Swindon SpecOps is currently surrounded by more SO-9 operatives and SWAT men than you can count in a month. Not even that madman Hades would try and get in here.’smile dropped from Mьller’s lips.
‘SO-9 is the finest antiterrorist squad on the planet,’ continued Schitt. ‘We’ll get him, you know. It’s only a question of when. And if you help us, things might not look so bad in court for you.’ьller wasn’t impressed.
‘If your SO-9 operatives are the best on the planet, how come it takes a seventy-five-year-old LiteraTec to arrest me?’Schitt couldn’t think of an answer to this. Mьller turned to me.
‘And if SO-9 are so shit hot, why does this young lady have the best luck cornering Hades?’
‘I got lucky,’ I replied, adding: ‘Why hasn’t Martin Chuzzlewit been killed? It’s not like Acheron to make idle threats.’
‘No indeed,’ replied Mьller. ‘No indeed.’
‘Answer the question, Mьller,’ said Schitt pointedly. ‘I can make things very uncomfortable for you.’ьller smiled at him.
‘Not half as uncomfortable as Acheron could. He lists slow murder, torture and flower arranging as his hobbies in Which Criminal.’
‘So you want to do some serious time?’ asked Hicks, who wasn’t going to be left out of the interview. ‘The way I see it you’re looking at quintuple life. Or you could walk free in a couple of minutes. What’s it to be?’
‘Do as you will, Officers. You’ll get nothing out of me. No matter what, Hades will get me out.’ьller folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. There was a pause. Schitt bent forward and switched off the tape recorder. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and draped it across the video camera in the corner of the interview room. Hicks and I looked at one another nervously. Mьller watched the proceedings but didn’t seem unduly alarmed.
‘Let’s try it again,’ said Schitt, pulling out his automatic and pointing it at Mьller’s shoulder. ‘Where is Hades?’ьller looked at him.
‘You can kill me now or Hades kills me later when he finds I’ve talked. I’m dead either way and your death is probably a great deal less painful than Acheron’s. I’ve seen him at work. You wouldn’t believe what he is capable of.’
‘I would,’ I said slowly.released the safety on his automatic. ‘I’ll count to three.’
‘I can’t tell you—!’
‘One.’
‘He’d kill me.’
‘Two.’took my cue. ‘We can offer you protective custody.’
‘From him?’ demanded Mьller. ‘Are you completely nuts?’
‘Three!’ьller closed his eyes and started to shake. Schitt put the gun down. This wasn’t going to work. Suddenly, I had a thought.
‘He doesn’t have the manuscript any more, does he?’ьller opened an eye and looked at me. It was the sign I’d been looking for.
‘Mycroft destroyed it, didn’t he?’ I continued, reasoning as my uncle might have—and did.
‘Is that what happened?’ asked Jack Schitt. Mьller said nothing.
‘He’ll be wanting to find an alternative,’ observed Hicks.
‘There must be thousands of original manuscripts out there,’ murmured Schitt. ‘We can’t cover them all. Which one is he after?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ stuttered Mьller, his resolve beginning to leave him. ‘He’d kill me.’
‘He’ll kill you when he finds out you told us that Mycroft destroyed the Chuzzlewit manuscript,’ I responded evenly.
‘But I didn’t—!’
‘He’s not to know. We can protect you, Mьller, but we need to capture Hades. Where is he?’ьller looked at us one by one.
‘Protective custody?’ he stammered. ‘It’ll need a small army.’
‘I can supply that,’ asserted Schitt, using the truth with an economy for which he had become famous. ‘The Goliath Corporation is prepared to be generous in this matter.’
‘Okay… I’ll tell you.’looked at us all and wiped his brow, which had suddenly started to glisten.
‘Isn’t it a bit hot in here?’ he asked.
‘No,’ replied Schitt. ‘Where’s Hades?’
‘Well, he’s at… the…’suddenly stopped talking. His face contorted with fear as a violent spasm of pain hit his lower back and he cried out in agony.
‘Tell us quick!’ shouted Schitt, leaping to his feet and grabbing the stricken man’s lapels.
‘Pen-deryn—!’ he screamed. ‘He’s at—!’
‘Tell us more!’ roared Schitt. ‘There must be a thousand Penderyns.’
‘Guess!’ screamed Mьller. ‘G-weuess… ahhh!’
‘I’ll not play your games!’ yelled Schitt, shaking the man vigorously. ‘Tell me or I’ll kill you with my bare hands right now!’Mьller was now beyond rational thought or Schitt’s threats. He squirmed and fell to the floor, writhing in agony.
‘Medic!’ I screamed, dropping to the floor next to the convulsing Mьller, whose open mouth screamed a silent scream as his eyes rolled up into his head. The smell of scorched clothes reached my nostrils. I leaped back as a bright orange flame shot out of Mьller’s back. It ignited the rest of him and we all had to beat a hasty retreat as the intense heat reduced Mьller to ash in under ten minutes.
‘Damn!’ muttered Schitt when the acrid smoke had cleared. Mьller was a heap of cinders on the floor. There wouldn’t even be enough to identify him.
‘Hades,’ I murmured. ‘Some sort of built-in safety device. As soon as Mьller starts to blab… up he goes. Very neat.’
‘You sound as if you almost respect him, Miss Next,’ observed Schitt.
‘I can’t help it.’ I shrugged. ‘Like the shark, Acheron has evolved into the almost perfect predator. I’ve never hunted big game and never would, but I can understand the appeal. The first thing,’ I went on, ignoring the smoking pile of ash that had recently been Mьller, ‘is to treble the guards on any places where original manuscripts are held. After that we want to start looking at anywhere called Penderyn.’
‘I’ll get on to it,’ said Hicks, who had been looking for a reason to go for some time.and I were left looking at one another.
‘Looks like we’re on the same side, Miss Next.’
‘Sadly,’ I replied disdainfully. ‘You want the Prose Portal. I want my uncle back. Acheron has to be destroyed before either of us gets what we want. Until then we’ll work together.’
‘A useful and happy union,’ replied Schitt with anything but happiness on his mind.pressed a finger to his tie.
‘Understand this, Mr Schitt. You may have might in your back pocket but I have right in mine. Believe me when I say I will do anything to protect my family. Do you understand?’looked at me coldly.
‘Don’t try to threaten me, Miss Next. I could have you posted to the Lerwick LiteraTec office quicker than you can say “Swift”. Remember that. You’re here because you’re good at what you do. Same reason as me. We are more alike than you think. Good-day, Miss Next.’quick search revealed eighty-four towns and villages in Wales named Penderyn. There were twice as many streets and the same number again of pubs, clubs and associations. It wasn’t surprising there were so many; Die Penderyn had been executed in 1831 for wounding a soldier during the Merthyr riots—he was innocent and so became the first martyr of the Welsh rising and something of a figurehead for the republican struggle. Even if Goliath could infiltrate Wales, they wouldn’t know which Penderyn to start with. Clearly, this was going to take some time., I left to go home. I picked up my car from the garage, where they had managed to replace the front axle, shoehorn in a new engine and repair the bullet holes, some of which had come perilously close. I rolled up at the Finis Hotel as a Clipper-class airship droned slowly overhead. Dusk was just settling and the navigation lights on either side of the huge airship blinked languidly in the evening sky. It was an elegant sight, the ten propellers beating the air with a rhythmic hum; during the day an airship could eclipse the sun. I stepped inside the hotel. The Milton conference was over and Liz welcomed me now as a friend rather than as a guest.
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