The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [180]
“Hello, Ms. Next—the nausea will pass.”
There was a shudder and the world whirled backwards in time a couple of seconds so suddenly it made me jump. Stiggins spoke again but this time made less sense:
“Helto, our m Ms. Next—the nauplea will knoass.”
“What the hell—” I muttered as the lobby snapped backwards again and the mauve-painted walls switched to green. I looked at Stiggins, who said:
“Hatto, is our am Mss Next—bue nauplea will kno you.”
The people in the lobby were now wearing hats. Stiggins jumped back again and said:
“Thato is our ame Miss Next—bue howplea kno you?”
My feet felt strange as the world rippled again and I looked down and saw that I was wearing trainers instead of boots. It was clear now that time was flexing slightly, and I expected my father to appear, but he didn’t. Stiggins flicked back to the beginning of his sentence yet again and said, this time in a voice I could make out clearly:
“That is our name, Miss Next, but how know you?”
“Did you feel anything odd just then?”
“No. Drink the water. You are very pale.”
I had another sip, leaned back and took a deep breath.
“This wall used to be mauve,” I mused as Stiggins looked at me.
“How you know our name, Miss Next?”
“You turned up at my wedding party,” I told him. “You said you had a job for me.”
He stared at me for almost half a minute through his deep-set eyes. His large nose sniffed the air occasionally. Neanderthals thought a great deal about what they said before they said it—if they said anything at all.
“You speak the truth,” he said at last. It was almost impossible to lie to a neanderthal, and I wasn’t going to try. “We are to represent you on this case, Miss Next.”
I sighed. Flanker was taking no chances; I had nothing against neanderthals, but they wouldn’t have been my first choice to defend me, particularly against an attack on one of their own.
“If you have a problem you should tell us,” said Stiggins, eyeing me carefully.
“I have no problem with you representing me.”
“Your face does not match your words. You think we have been placed here to hurt your case. It is our belief too. But as to whether it will hurt your case, we shall see. Are you well enough to walk?”
I said I was, and we went and sat down in the interview room. Stiggins opened his case and drew out a buff file. It was a large-print version made out in underlined capitals. He brought out a wooden ruler and placed it across the page to help him read.
“Why you hit Kaylieu, the Skyrail operator?”
“I thought he had a gun.”
“Why would you think that?”
I stared into Mr. Stiggins’s unblinking brown eyes. If I lied he would know. If I told him the truth he might feel it his duty to tell SO-1 that I had been involved in my father’s work. With the world due to end and the trust in my father implicit, it was a sticky moment, to say the least.
“They will ask you, Miss Next. Your evasion will not be appreciated.”
“I’ll have to take that chance.”
Stiggins tilted his head to one side and regarded me for a moment.
“They know about your father, Miss Next. We advise you to be careful.”
I didn’t say anything, but to Stiggins I probably spoke volumes. Half the thal language is about body movements. It’s possible to conjugate verbs with facial muscles; dancing is conversation.
We didn’t have a chance to say anything else as the door opened and Flanker and two other agents trooped in.
“You know my name,” he told me. “These are Agents King and Nosmo.”
The two officers stared at me unnervingly.
“This is a preliminary interview,” announced Flanker, who now fixed me with a steely gaze. “There will be time enough for a full inquiry—if we so decide. Anything you say and do can affect the outcome of the hearing. It’s really up to you, Next.”
He wasn’t kidding. SO-1 were not within the law—they made the law. If they really meant business I wouldn’t be here at all— I’d be spirited away to SpecOps Grand Central, wherever the hell that was. It was at times like this that I suddenly realized quite why my father had rebelled against