Jasper Fforde - Early Riser

‘Did she believe you? I mean, did she think that the whole you and I scenario was plausible?’

‘I think so, yes.’

‘Ah,’ she said, deep in thought, ‘that says a lot about how she views me. But you kept your oath to me?’

‘I did. She had a message for you: Queen’s rook takes bishop’s pawn two – check.’

I didn’t think I’d repeat the rest of the missive.

‘What?’ exclaimed Aurora, and she reached into the folds of her jacket to produce a travelling chess set. She opened it, placed it on the counter and moved the pieces.

‘Damn and blast that woman to hell,’ she said. ‘ Foiled . I think I may have to concede.’ She showed me the game. ‘What do you think?’

‘I’m not very good at chess.’

‘Nor me, it appears,’ she said, and snapped the set closed. She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. She could tell something was troubling me.

‘What’s up, Charlie?’

‘Did you engineer the meeting with me in the basement yesterday morning?’

‘What possible reason could I have for doing that?’

‘I don’t know. Also: the lines were down to Cardiff so the stationmaster must have heard from someone on the train that I’d delayed it. Was that you?’

‘Is Toccata messing with your head?’ she asked. ‘Because she does that. Divide, cast doubt, dissemble. No, I didn’t tell the stationmaster anything. And strictly off the record, I understand that Toccata and Logan’s association went beyond intimacy – and into illegal activities. Farming, the unlicensed sale of body parts. We think that was the true purpose of his visit; nothing to do with viral dreams. We don’t trust Jonesy either. I’ll tell you why: do you know what happened to nightwalkers Tangiers and Glitzy Tiara? I left them tied to the back of my truck, and now they’ve gone.’

‘Jonesy retired them.’

‘Yes, I heard. But if so, then where did she dump them? There’s nothing in the night pit or the morgue. We checked. We’re not sure where they’ve gone – or why.’

‘Farming?’ I asked, knowing that Foulnap was up here too – and that Toccata knew he was. Glitzy Tiara certainly looked of childbearing age, and Tangiers, well, if they wanted to flog healthy offspring by post, they could farm him too.

‘It’s a strong possibility,’ said Aurora, ‘although we have no proof, as yet. Life in Sector Twelve is never what it seems, Charlie. Keep an eye out for me, would you?’

I told her I would, the kettle boiled and I poured the water onto the coffee granules.

‘So,’ she said in more friendly tone, ‘is the retrospective memory theory helping with the narcosis?’

I explained that it was, bizarrely.

‘I can feel a lot more relaxed knowing there’s a twisted logic behind what’s going on,’ I added, ‘but being narced and not knowing it is strange. The hectoring Mrs Nesbit no longer seems as fearful as she once did.’

‘What did she want?’

‘A wax cylinder – y’know, of the recording sort.’

‘What’s on it?’

‘According to my seriously overdramatic imagination, something that could seriously damage HiberTech – and I think I dreamed where it was… That’s what Mrs Nesbit wants. Only Mrs Nesbit doesn’t sound like Mrs Nesbit – she sounds like The Notable Goodnight.’

‘That sounds quite trippy.’

‘The dream is like that. Complex, confusing and as real as real gets – sometimes, more so.’

She took the coffee I’d made for her, and I tasted mine. Musty walnuts.

‘Okay, then,’ said Aurora after she’d taken a sip, grimaced, then tipped the remainder down the sink, ‘just remind yourself that dreams are nonsense, an overactive cortex attempting to connect the random meanderings of the mind. The cylinder seems to be highly central, though. Where did you say it was? In your dream, I mean?’

‘If dreams are nonsense,’ I said, ‘how could it matter that I saw where it was hidden?’

Aurora stared at me for a moment.

‘It doesn’t matter at all. I was just thinking that talking it out might help.’

‘They’re just dreams,’ I said, ‘as you stated – nonsense and random meanderings.’

She stared at me, cocked her head on one side and narrowed her eye.

‘Do you want to come and work for me at HiberTech?’

This was unexpected, and I asked in what capacity.

‘General duties,’ she said. ‘You seem like a bright kid and it would be good to have you around. Standard WinterPay Level III, but a five-thousand-euro handshake, unlimited pudding and a weekly Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut allocation. HiberTech Security have their own residential block inside the facility; very nice – faces the quad. The rooms are twice as big as these and you have your own redeployed valet. There’s real coffee and sushi on Fridays. We don’t like to slum it. Just resign when you see the Chief; I can have the paperwork completed in a jiffy – so long as you’re not working for RealSleep or any of their affiliates?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Is there anything embarrassing we might find in a background check? And we will do one, so no holding back.’

‘I did six weeks’ community service for Incitement to Deprive,’ I said. ‘Sleepy phone tennis that went wrong.’

‘Small beer, Charlie.’

‘…and bit off Gary Findlay’s ear.’

‘Biting off ears and stuff totally counts in your favour at HiberTech. You’ll take the job?’

I thought about Birgitta and her need for food.

‘Is the five grand in cash?’

‘Yes, if you want it, sure.’

‘I’m kind of settled here in the Siddons . Can I think about it?’

‘Sure,’ she said, surprised, I think, that I didn’t leap at the offer, ‘but don’t shilly-shally. There are others in the frame.’

She looked at her watch, then at me again.

‘That’s me done here,’ she said. ‘Agent Hooke was covering for me last night, and I need to unravel any problems he’s stirred up. His anger management issues actually have their own anger management issues.’

I waited for ten minutes after she’d left, then washed and dressed and made some sandwiches of whatever was left in the picnic basket. Taramasalata and toothpaste weren’t my first choice for a snack, but Birgitta wouldn’t complain and it was food, first and foremost.

I found Birgitta stuck fast in Rigor torpis when I let myself into her room. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, mid-sketch, pen poised.

Her overnight drawing efforts numbered eight. Four of them were the interior of her room and another of her and her husband on the beach with the parasol but seen from behind them. There was one of the interior of the basement car park depicting her first encounter with the other nightwalkers, and two others were general scenes of the town: the main square in Summer with the Wincarnis in the background and another of the bridge over the river, water running freely, but still with an articulated lorry stuck fast – only a different one, not the lorry stuck there now. It must be a regular feature of the town.

I placed the pictures on top of the wardrobe with the others and then, once Birgitta had risen out of torpis , fed her the taramasalata and toothpaste sandwich, and when that wasn’t quite enough, a large bowl of muesli.

Once I’d finished feeding her breakfast, I made sure she had access to pens and paper before leaving and locking the door behind me.

I had inventoried all my remaining food and figured I would probably run out tomorrow evening. I would be the first item on the menu when she got hungry, and if she couldn’t eat me, she’d either starve or try to escape – and that would be one more whole heap of trouble to deal with.