The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [16]
I brought in some coffee a few minutes later. Snood and Buckett were discussing the outcome of the Cheltenham Gold Stakes Handicap.
“So you know what he looks like, Miss Next?” asked the ancient Snood without looking up from the binoculars.
“He was a lecturer of mine when I was at college. He’s tricky to describe, though.”
“Average build?”
“When I last saw him.”
“Tall?”
“At least six-six.”
“Black hair worn swept back and graying at the temples?”
Buckett and I looked at one another.
“Yes?—”
“I think he’s over there, Thursday.”
I jerked the headphone jack out.
“—Acheron!!” came Styx’s voice over the loudspeaker. “Dear brother, what a pleasant surprise!”
I looked through the binoculars and could see Acheron in the flat with Styx. He was dressed in a large gray duster jacket and was exactly how I remembered him from all those years ago. It didn’t seem as though he had aged even one day. I shivered involuntarily.
“Shit,” I muttered. Snood had already dialed the pager number to alert Tamworth.
“Mosquitoes have stung the blue goat,” he muttered down the phone. “Thank you. Can you repeat that back and send it twice?”
My heart beat faster. Acheron might not stay long and I was in a position for advancement beyond the LiteraTecs for good. Capturing Hades would be something no one could ever ignore.
“I’m going over there,” I said almost casually.
“What?!”
“You heard. Stay here and call SO-14 for armed backup, silent approach. Tell them we have gone in and to surround the building. Suspect will be armed and highly dangerous. Got it?”
Snood smiled in the manner that I had so liked in his son and reached for the telephone. I turned to Buckett.
“You with me?”
Buckett had turned a little pale.
“I’m . . . ah . . . with you,” he replied slightly shakily.
I flew out of the door, down the stairs and into the lobby.
“Next!—”
It was Buckett. He had stopped and was visibly shaking.
“What is it?”
“I . . . I . . . can’t do this,” he announced, loosening his tie and rubbing the back of his neck. “I have the kid!—You don’t know what he can do. I’m a betting man, Next. I love long odds. But we try and take him and we’re both dead. I beg you, wait for SO-14!”
“He could be long gone by then. All we have to do is detain him.”
Buckett bit his lip, but the man was terrified. He shook his head and beat a hasty retreat without another word. It was unnerving to say the least. I thought of shouting after him but remembered the picture of the dribbling kid. I pulled out my automatic, pushed open the door to the street and walked slowly across the road to the building opposite. As I did so Tamworth drew up in his car. He didn’t look very happy.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Pursuing the suspect.”
“No you’re not. Where’s Buckett?”
“On his way home.”
“I don’t blame him. SO-14 on their way?”
I nodded. He paused, looked up at the dark building and then at me.
“Shit. Okay, stay behind and stay sharp. Shoot first, then question. Below the eight—”
“—above the law. I remember.”
“Good.”
Tamworth pulled out his gun and we stepped cautiously into the lobby of the converted warehouse. Styx’s flat was on the seventh floor. Surprise, hopefully, would be on our side.
5.
Search for the Guilty, Punish the Innocent
. . . Perhaps it was as well that she had been unconscious for four weeks. She had missed the aftermath, the SO-1 reports, the recriminations, Snood and Tamworth’s funerals. She missed everything . . . except the blame. It was waiting for her when she awoke . . .
MILLON DE FLOSS
— Thursday Next—A Biography
I TRIED to focus on the striplight above me. I knew that something had happened but the night when Tamworth and I tackled Acheron Hades had, for the moment at least, been erased from my mind. I frowned, but only fractured images paraded themselves in my consciousness. I remembered shooting a little old lady three times and running down a fire escape. I had a dim recollection of blasting away at my own car and being shot in the arm. I looked at my arm and it was, indeed, tightly bound with a white bandage.