Jasper Fforde - Lost in a Good Book

‘Mr Schitt-Hawse,’ I said, ‘what a surprise! Have you met my husband?’

Schitt-Hawse offered his hand but Landen didn’t take it. The Goliath agent grimaced for a moment, then gave a bemused grin.

‘Saw you on the telly, Ms Next. It was a fascinating talk about dodos, I must say.’

‘I’d like to expand my subjects next time,’ I replied evenly. ‘Might even try and include something about Goliath’s malignant stranglehold on the nation.’

Schitt-Hawse shook his head sadly.

‘Unwise, Next, unwise. What you singularly fail to grasp is that Goliath is all you’ll ever need. All anyone will ever need. We manufacture everything from cots to coffins and employ over eight million people in our six thousand or so subsidiary companies. Everything from the womb to the wooden overcoat.’

‘And how much profit do you expect to scavenge as you massage us from hatched to dispatched?’

‘You can’t put a price on human happiness, Next. Political and economic uncertainty are the two biggest forms of stress. You’ll be pleased to know that the Goliath Cheerfulness Index has reached a four-year high this morning at 9.13.’

‘Out of a hundred?’ asked Landen sarcastically.

‘Out of ten , Mr Parke-Laine,’ Schitt-Hawse replied testily. ‘The nation has grown beyond all measure under our guidance.’

‘Growth purely for its own sake is the philosophy of cancer, Schitt-Hawse.’

His face dropped and he stared at us for a moment, doubtless wondering how best to continue.

‘So,’ I said politely, ‘out to watch the mammoths?’

‘Goliath don’t watch mammoths, Next. There’s no profit in it. Have you met my associates Mr Chalk and Mr Cheese?’

I looked at his two gorilla-like lackeys. They were immaculately dressed, had impeccably trimmed goatees, and stared at me through impenetrable dark glasses.

‘Which is which?’ I asked

‘I’m Cheese,’ said Cheese

‘I’m Chalk,’ said Chalk.

‘When is he going to ask you about Jack Schitt?’ asked Landen in an unsubtly loud whisper.

‘Pretty soon,’ I replied.

Schitt-Hawse shook his head sadly. He opened the briefcase Mr Chalk was holding and inside, nestled in the carefully cut foam innards, lay a copy of The Poems of Edgar Allan Poe .

‘You left Jack imprisoned in this copy of The Raven . Goliath need him out to face a disciplinary board on charges of embezzlement, Goliath contractual irregularities, misuse of the Corporation’s leisure facilities, missing stationery… and crimes against humanity.’

‘Oh yes?’ I asked. ‘Why not just leave him in?’

Schitt-Hawse sighed and stared at me.

‘Listen, Next. We need Jack out of here, and believe me, we’ll manage it.’

‘Not with my help.’

Schitt-Hawse stared silently at me for a moment.

‘Goliath is not used to being refused. We asked your uncle to build another Prose Portal. He told us to come back in a month’s time. We understand he left on retirement last night. Destination?’

‘Not a clue.’

Mycroft had retired, it seemed, not out of choice but out of necessity. I smiled. Goliath had been hoodwinked and they didn’t like it.

‘Without the Portal,’ I told him, ‘I can’t jump into books any more than Mr Chalk can.’

Chalk shuffled slightly as I mentioned his name.

‘You’re lying,’ replied Schitt-Hawse ‘The ineptness card doesn’t work on us. You defeated Hades, Jack Schitt and the Goliath Corporation. We have a great deal of admiration for you. Goliath has been more than fair given the circumstances, and we would hate for you to become a victim of corporate impatience.’

‘Corporate impatience? What’s that, some sort of threat?’

‘This unhelpful attitude of yours might make me vindictive—and you wouldn’t like me when I get vindictive.’

‘I don’t like you when you’re not vindictive.’

Schitt-Hawse shut the briefcase with a snap. His left eye twitched and the colour drained out of his face. He looked at us both and started to say something, stopped, got a hold of his temper and managed to squeeze out a half-smile before he climbed back into his car with Chalk and Cheese and was gone.

Landen was still chuckling as we spread a groundsheet and blanket on the well-nibbled grass just above the White Horse. Below us, at the bottom of the escarpment, a herd of mammoths were quietly browsing, and on the horizon we could see several airships on the approach to Oxford. It was a pleasant day, and since airships don’t fly in poor weather, they were all making the best use of it.

‘You don’t have much fear of Goliath, do you, darling?’ Landen asked.

I shrugged.

‘Goliath is nothing more than a bully, Land. Stand up to them and they’ll soon scurry away. All that large car and henchman stuff—it’s for frighteners. But I’m kind of intrigued as to how they knew we would be here.’

Landen shrugged.

‘Cheese or ham?’ [ 11 11 ‘Thursday, for heaven’s sake, what have you done?!’ ]

‘What?’

‘I said: “Cheese or ham?’

‘Not you .’

Landen looked around. We were about the only people within a hundred-yard radius.

‘Who, then?’

‘Snell.’

‘Who?’

‘Snell!’ I yelled out loud. ‘Is that you?’ [ 12 12 ‘I told you not to talk to anyone about your case!’ ]

‘I didn’t!’ [ 13 13 ‘How can I be expected to help you if you go and blab everything to the prosecution?’ ]

‘Prosecution? Who?’ [ 14 14 ‘Why, Hopkins, you idiot! You pretty much confessed there and then on your own doorstep. This is going to really screw things up for us. Don’t speak to anyone about anything , for Christ’s sake—do you want to spend the next thousand readings imprisoned in Castle Doubting or something?’ ]

‘Thursday,’ said Landen, now slightly worried, ‘what the hell’s going on?’

‘I’m talking to my lawyer.’

‘What have you done wrong?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Landen threw his hands up in the air and I addressed Snell again.

‘Can you tell me the charge I’m facing at the very least?’ [ 15 15 ‘No time. I’ll speak to you before we go into court. Remember don’t talk to anyone at all about the case. By the way, did you manage to find anything out about that delightfully odd Flakk girlie?’ ]

I sighed.

‘She’s not married, apparently.’ [ 16 16 ‘Really? That is interesting news. Well, must dash Pip-pip.’ ]

‘Snell! Wait! Snell? Snell—!’

But he had gone. Landen was staring at me.

‘How long have you been like this, darling?’

‘I’m fine, Land. But something weird is going on. Can we drop it for the moment?’

Landen looked at me, then at the clear blue sky, and then at the cheese he was still holding

‘Cheese or ham?’ he said at last.

‘Both—but go easy on the cheese; this is a very limited supply.’

‘Where did you find it?’ asked Landen, looking at the anonymously wrapped block suspiciously.

‘From Joe Martlet at the Cheese Squad. They intercept about twelve tons a week coming over the Welsh border. It seems a shame to burn it so everyone at SpecOps gets a pound or two. You know what they say: “Cops have the best cheese”.’

‘Goodbye, Thursday,’ muttered Landen, looking at the ham.

‘Are you going somewhere?’ I replied, unsure of what he meant.

‘Me? No. Why?’

‘You just said “goodbye”.’

He laughed. ‘No. I was commenting on the ham. It’s a good buy .’

‘Oh.’