The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [52]
He looked over his spectacles at me.
“Did you return fire?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I fired first.”
“Not so good.”
Braxton stroked his mustache thoughtfully.
“You were operative grade one in the London office working on Shakespeare, no less. Very prestigious. Yet you swap that for a grade three operative assignment in a backwater like this. Why?”
“Times change and we change with them, sir.”
Braxton grunted and closed the file.
“Here at SpecOps my responsibility is not only with the LiteraTecs, but also Art Theft, Vampirism & Lycanthropy, the ChronoGuard, Antiterrorism, Civil Order and the dog pound. Do you play golf?”
“No, sir.”
“Shame, shame. Where was I? Oh yes. Out of all those departments, do you know which I fear most?”
“I’ve no idea, sir.”
“I’ll tell you. None of them. The thing I fear most is SpecOps regional budget meetings. Do you realize what that means, Next?”
“No, sir.”
“It means that every time one of you puts in for extra overtime or a special request, I go over budget and it makes my head hurt right here.”
He pointed to his left temple.
“And I don’t like that. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He picked up my file again and waved it at me.
“I heard you had a spot of bother in the big city. Other operatives getting killed. It’s a whole new different alternative kettle of fish here, y’know. We crunch data for a living. If you want to arrest someone then have uniform do it. No running about shooting up bad guys, no overtime and definitely no twenty-four-hour surveillance operations. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, about Hades.”
My heart leaped; I had thought that would have been censored, if anything.
“I understand you think he is still alive?”
I thought for a moment. My eyes flicked to the file Hicks was holding. He divined my thoughts.
“Oh, that’s not in here, my dear girl. I may be a hick commander in the boonies, but I do have my sources. You think he is still alive?”
I knew I could trust Victor and Bowden, but about Hicks I was not so sure. I didn’t think I would risk it.
“A symptom of stress, sir. Hades is dead.”
He plonked my file in the out-tray, leaned back in his chair and stroked his mustache, something he obviously enjoyed.
“So you’re not here to try and find him?”
“Why would Hades be in Swindon if he were alive, sir?”
Braxton looked uneasy for a moment.
“Quite, quite.”
He smiled and stood up, indicating that the interview was at an end.
“Good, well, run along. One piece of advice. Learn to play golf; you’ll find it a very rewarding and relaxing game. This is a copy of the department’s budget account and this is a list of all the local golf courses. Study them well. Good luck.”
I went out and closed the door after me.
The clerk looked up.
“Did he mention the budget?”
“I don’t think he mentioned anything else. Do you have a waste bin?”
The clerk smiled and pushed it out with his foot. I dumped the heavy document in it unceremoniously.
“Bravo,” he said.
As I was about to open the door to leave a short man in a blue suit came powering through without looking. He was reading a fax and knocked against me as he went straight through to Braxton’s office without a word. The clerk was watching me for my reaction.
“Well, well,” I murmured, “Jack Schitt.”
“You know him?”
“Not socially.”
“As much charm as an open grave,” said the clerk, who had obviously warmed to me since I binned the budget. “Steer clear of him. Goliath, you know.”
I looked at the closed door to Braxton’s office.
“What’s he here for?”
The secretary shrugged, gave me a conspiratorial wink and said very pointedly and slowly:
“I’ll get that coffee you wanted and it was two sugars, wasn’t it?”
“No thanks, not for me.”
“No, no,” he replied. “Two sugars, TWO sugars.”
He was pointing at the intercom on his desk.
“Heavens above!” he exploded. “Do I have to spell it out?”
The penny dropped. The clerk gave a wan smile and scurried out of the door. I quickly sat down, flipped up the lever marked “two” on the intercom and leaned