The Eyre Affair_ A Novel - Jasper Fforde [63]
There was a screech of tires from downstairs. We put down our weapons and held our badges in the air to avoid any misunderstandings. The officer in charge was a humorless man named Franklin who had heard slightly garbled stories in the canteen about the new Litera Tec.
“You must be Thursday Next. Heard about you. Litera Tec, eh? Kind of a drop from SO-5?”
“At least I made it up there in the first place.”
Franklin grunted and looked at the two bodies.
“Dead?”
“Very.”
“You lot are becoming quite action-packed. I can’t remember the last time a shot was fired in anger by a Litera Tec. Let’s not make it a habit, eh? We don’t want Swindon turning into a killing field. And if you want a piece of advice, go easy with Jack Schitt. We hear the man’s a psychopath.”
“Thanks for the tip, Franklin,” I said. “I’d never have noticed.”
It was after nine when we were finally allowed to leave. Victor had turned up to ask us a few questions out of earshot of the police.
“What the deuce is going on?” he asked. “I’ve had Braxton yelling on the phone for half an hour; it takes something serious to get him away from his golf club AGM. He wants a full report on the incident on his desk first thing tomorrow morning.”
“It was Hades,” I said. “Jack Schitt was here with the intention of following one of Acheron’s killers after he’d dispatched us both.”
Victor looked at me for a moment and was about to comment further when a call came over the wireless from an officer in need of assistance. It was the unmistakable voice of Spike. I went to pick up the microphone but Victor grabbed me by the wrist with a surprising turn of speed. He looked at me grimly.
“No, Thursday. Not with Spike.”
“But an officer in need of assistance?—”
“Don’t get involved. Spike is on his own and it’s best that way.”
I looked at Bowden, who nodded agreement and said:
“The powers of darkness are not for everyone, Miss Next. I think Spike understands that. We hear his calls from time to time but I see him in the canteen the following morning, as regular as clockwork. He knows what he’s doing.”
The wireless was silent; the channel was an open one and perhaps upward of sixty or seventy officers had heard the call. No one had answered.
Spike’s voice came over the airwaves again:
“For God’s sake, guys!—”
Bowden moved to switch the wireless off but I stopped him. I got into my car and keyed the mike.
“Spike, this is Thursday. Where are you?”
Victor shook his head.
“It was nice knowing you, Miss Next.”
I glared at them both and drove off into the night.
Bowden moved across to where Victor was standing.
“Quite a girl,” murmured Victor.
“We’re going to be married,” answered Bowden matter-of-factly.
Victor frowned and looked at him.
“Love is like oxygen, Bowden. When’s the happy day?”
“Oh, she doesn’t know yet,” replied Bowden, sighing. “She is everything a woman should be. Strong and resourceful, loyal and intelligent.”
Victor raised an eyebrow.
“When do you suppose you’ll ask her?”
Bowden was staring after the taillights of the car.
“I don’t know. If Spike is in the sort of trouble that I think he is, perhaps never.”
17.
SpecOps-17: Suckers & Biters
. . . I made the assistance calls as a matter of course; had done since Chesney was pulled to the shadows. Never expected anyone to come; was just my way of saying “Ho, guys! I’m still out here!” Nope, never expected it. Never expected it at all . . .
OFFICER “SPIKE” STOKER
—interview in Van Helsing’s Gazette
WHERE ARE you, Spike?”
There was a pause and then:
“Thursday, think hard before you do this—”
“I have, Spike. Give me your location.”
He told me and after a quarter of an hour I pulled up outside the senior school at Haydon.
“I’m here, Spike. What do you need?”
His voice came back on the wireless, but this time slightly strained.
“Lecture room four, and hurry; in the glove box of my black & white you’ll find a medical kit—”
There was a yell and he stopped transmitting.
I ran across to where Spike’s squad car stood in the dark entrance of the