The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [179]
GERHARD VON SQUID,
Neanderthals: Back After a Short Absence
THURSDAY NEXT?” inquired a tall man with a gravelly voice as soon as I stepped into the SpecOps building.
“Yes?”
He flashed a badge.
“Agent Walken, SO-5; this is my associate, James Dedmen.”
Dedmen tipped his hat politely and I shook their hands.
“Can we talk somewhere privately?” asked Walken.
I took them down the corridor and we found an empty interview room.
“I’m sorry about Phodder and Kannon,” I told them as soon as we had sat down.
“They were careless,” intoned Dedmen gravely. “Contact adhesive should always be used in a well-ventilated room—it says so on the tin.”
“We were wondering,” asked Walken in a slightly embarrassed manner, “whether you could fill us in on what they were up to; they both died before submitting a report.”
“What happened to their case notes?”
Dedmen and Walken exchanged looks.
“They were eaten by rabbits.”
“How could that happen?”
“Classified,” announced Dedmen. “We analyzed the remains but everything was pretty well digested—except these.”
He placed three small scraps of tattered and stained paper wrapped in cellophane on the desk. I leaned closer. I could just read out part of my name on the first one, the second was a fragment of a credit card statement, and the third had a single name on it that gave me a shiver: Hades.
“Hades?” I queried. “Do you think he’s still alive?”
“You killed him, Next—what do you think?”
I had seen him die up there on the roof at Thornfield and even found his charred remains when we searched the blackened ruins. But Hades had died before—or so he had made us believe.
“As sure as I can be. What does the credit card statement mean?”
“Again,” replied Walken, “we’re not sure. The card was stolen. Most of these purchases are of women’s clothes, shoes, hats, bags and so forth—we’ve got Dorothy Perkins and Camp Hopson under twenty-four-hour observation. Does any of this ring any bells?”
I shook my head.
“Then tell us about your meeting with Phodder.”
I told them as much as I could about our short meeting while they made copious notes.
“So they wanted to know if anything odd had happened to you recently?” asked Walken. “Had it?”
I told them about the Skyrail and the Hispano-Suiza and they made even more notes. Finally, after asking me several times whether there was anything more I could add, they got up and Walken handed me his card.
“If you discover anything at all—?”
“No problem,” I replied. “I hope you catch them.”
They grunted in reply and left.
I sighed, got up and walked back into the lobby to await Flanker and SO-1. I watched the busy station around me and then suddenly felt very hot as the room started to swim. The sides of my vision started to fade and if I hadn’t put my head between my knees I would have passed out there and then. The buzz from the room became a dull rumble and I closed my eyes, temples thumping. I stayed there for several moments until the nausea lessened. I opened my eyes and stared at the flecks of mica in the concrete floor.
“Lost something, Next?” came Flanker’s familiar voice.
I very gently raised my head. He was reading some notes and spoke without looking at me.
“I’m running late—someone’s misappropriated an entire cheese seizure. Fifteen minutes, interview room three—be there.”
He strode off without waiting for a reply and I stared at the floor again. Somehow Flanker and SpecOps seemed insignificant given that this time next year I could be a mother. Landen had enough money for us both and it wasn’t as though I needed to actually resign—I could go on the SpecOps reservist list and do the odd job when necessary. I was just starting to ponder on whether I was really cut out for motherhood when I felt a hand on my shoulder and someone pushed a glass of water into my line of vision. I gratefully took the glass and drank half of it before looking up at my rescuer. It was a neanderthal dressed in a neat double-breasted suit with an SO-13 badge clipped to its top pocket.
“Hello,