Jasper Fforde - The Eyre Affair

‘Now wait a moment—‘ began Victor, but Mьller interrupted.

‘I’ll let your family know where to find the body,’ he said magnanimously.

Victor glanced around for possible help but all the other Earthcrossers were staring at the sky.

‘Shoot him.’

The henchman smiled, his finger tightening on the trigger. Victor winced as a high-pitched scream filled the air and a fortuitous incoming meteorite shattered on the henchman’s helmet.

He collapsed like a sack of potatoes. The gun went off and put a neat hole in Victor’s baseball glove. Suddenly, the air was full of red-hot meteorites screaming to earth in a localised shower. The assembled Earthcrossers were thrown into confusion by the sudden violence and couldn’t quite make up their minds whether to avoid the meteorites or try to catch them. Mьller fumbled in his jacket pocket for his own pistol as someone yelled ‘Yours!’ close at hand. They both turned, but it was Victor who caught the small meteorite. It was about the size of a cricket ball and was still glowing red hot; he tossed it to Mьller, who instinctively caught it. Sadly, he did not have a catcher’s glove. There was a hiss and a yelp as he dropped it, then a cry of pain as Victor took the opportunity to thump him on the jaw with a speed that belied his seventy-five years. Mьller went down like a ninepin and Victor leaped on the dropped gun. He thrust it against Mullet’s neck, dragged him to his feet and started to march him out of the hill-fort. The meteorite shower was easing up as he backed out, my voice in his earpiece telling him to go easy.

‘It is Analogy, isn’t it?’ said Mьller.

‘It is. SpecOps 27 and you’re under arrest.’

Victor, Bowden and I had got Mьller as far as Interview Room 3 before Braxton and Schitt realised who we had captured. Victor had barely asked Mьller to confirm his name before the interview room door burst open. It was Schitt flanked by two SO-9 operatives. None of them looked like they had a sense of humour.

‘My prisoner, Analogy.’

‘My prisoner, Mr Schitt, I think,’ replied Victor firmly. ‘My collar, my jurisdiction; I am interviewing Dr Mьller about the Chuzzlewit theft.’

Jack Schitt looked at Commander Hicks, who was standing behind him. The commander sighed and cleared his throat.

‘I’m sorry to say this, Victor, but the Goliath Corporation and their representative have been granted jurisdiction over SO-27 and SO-9 in Swindon. Withholding material from Acting SpecOps Commander Schitt may result in criminal proceedings for concealment of vital information pertinent to an on-going inquiry. Do you understand what this means?’

‘It means Schitt does what he pleases,’ returned Victor.

‘Relinquish your prisoner, Victor. The Goliath Corporation takes precedence.’

Victor stared at him hotly, then pushed his way out of the interview room.

‘I’d like to stay,’ I requested.

‘No chance,’ said Schitt. ‘An SO-27 security clearance is not permissible.’

‘It’s as well, then,’ I replied, ‘that I still hold an SO-5 badge.’

Jack Schitt cursed but said nothing more. Bowden was ordered out and the two SO-9 operatives stood either side of the door; Schitt and Hicks sat down at the table behind which Mьller nonchalantly smoked a cigarette. I leaned against the wall and impassively watched the proceedings.

‘He’ll get me out, you know,’ Mьller said slowly as he smiled a rare smile.

‘I don’t think so,’ remarked Schitt. ‘Swindon SpecOps is currently surrounded by more SO-9 operatives and SWAT men than you can count in a month. Not even that madman Hades would try and get in here.’

The smile dropped from Mьller’s lips.

‘SO-9 is the finest antiterrorist squad on the planet,’ continued Schitt. ‘We’ll get him, you know. It’s only a question of when. And if you help us, things might not look so bad in court for you.’

Mьller wasn’t impressed.

‘If your SO-9 operatives are the best on the planet, how come it takes a seventy-five-year-old LiteraTec to arrest me?’

Jack Schitt couldn’t think of an answer to this. Mьller turned to me.

‘And if SO-9 are so shit hot, why does this young lady have the best luck cornering Hades?’

‘I got lucky,’ I replied, adding: ‘Why hasn’t Martin Chuzzlewit been killed? It’s not like Acheron to make idle threats.’

‘No indeed,’ replied Mьller. ‘No indeed.’

‘Answer the question, Mьller,’ said Schitt pointedly. ‘I can make things very uncomfortable for you.’

Mьller smiled at him.

‘Not half as uncomfortable as Acheron could. He lists slow murder, torture and flower arranging as his hobbies in Which Criminal.’

‘So you want to do some serious time?’ asked Hicks, who wasn’t going to be left out of the interview. ‘The way I see it you’re looking at quintuple life. Or you could walk free in a couple of minutes. What’s it to be?’

‘Do as you will, Officers. You’ll get nothing out of me. No matter what, Hades will get me out.’

Mьller folded his arms and leaned back in the chair. There was a pause. Schitt bent forward and switched off the tape recorder. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and draped it across the video camera in the corner of the interview room. Hicks and I looked at one another nervously. Mьller watched the proceedings but didn’t seem unduly alarmed.

‘Let’s try it again,’ said Schitt, pulling out his automatic and pointing it at Mьller’s shoulder. ‘Where is Hades?’

Mьller looked at him.

‘You can kill me now or Hades kills me later when he finds I’ve talked. I’m dead either way and your death is probably a great deal less painful than Acheron’s. I’ve seen him at work. You wouldn’t believe what he is capable of.’

‘I would,’ I said slowly.

Schitt released the safety on his automatic. ‘I’ll count to three.’

‘I can’t tell you—!’

‘One.’

‘He’d kill me.’

‘Two.’

I took my cue. ‘We can offer you protective custody.’

‘From him?’ demanded Mьller. ‘Are you completely nuts?’

‘Three!’

Mьller closed his eyes and started to shake. Schitt put the gun down. This wasn’t going to work. Suddenly, I had a thought.

‘He doesn’t have the manuscript any more, does he?’

Mьller opened an eye and looked at me. It was the sign I’d been looking for.

‘Mycroft destroyed it, didn’t he?’ I continued, reasoning as my uncle might have—and did.

‘Is that what happened?’ asked Jack Schitt. Mьller said nothing.

‘He’ll be wanting to find an alternative,’ observed Hicks.

‘There must be thousands of original manuscripts out there,’ murmured Schitt. ‘We can’t cover them all. Which one is he after?’

‘I can’t tell you,’ stuttered Mьller, his resolve beginning to leave him. ‘He’d kill me.’

‘He’ll kill you when he finds out you told us that Mycroft destroyed the Chuzzlewit manuscript,’ I responded evenly.

‘But I didn’t—!’

‘He’s not to know. We can protect you, Mьller, but we need to capture Hades. Where is he?’

Mьller looked at us one by one.

‘Protective custody?’ he stammered. ‘It’ll need a small army.’

‘I can supply that,’ asserted Schitt, using the truth with an economy for which he had become famous. ‘The Goliath Corporation is prepared to be generous in this matter.’

‘Okay… I’ll tell you.’

He looked at us all and wiped his brow, which had suddenly started to glisten.

‘Isn’t it a bit hot in here?’ he asked.