Jasper Fforde - Something rotten

Flanker glared at me for a moment, then addressed Braxton: 'Since Miss Next is back with the Literary Detectives perhaps you would be good enough to appoint her as SO-14 Danish Book Seizure Liaison Officer. My boys are pretty good at the seizure stuff but to be honest none of them can tell a Mark Twain from a Samuel Clemens.'

'I'm not sure I want—' I began.

'I think you should be happy to assist me, Miss Next, don't you? A chance to make amends for past transgressions, yes?'

Braxton answered for me.

'I'm sure Miss Next would be happy to assist in any way she can, Mr Flanker.'

Flanker gave a rare smile.

'Good. I'll have the divisional head of SO-14 get in touch with you.' He turned to Braxton. 'But I'll still need that report on Tuesday.'

'You'll get it,' replied Braxton, 'on Friday.'

Flanker glared at us both and without another word strode from the room, his minions at his heels. When the door closed I breathed a sigh of relief.

'Sir, I—'

'I don't want to hear anything more about it,' replied Braxton sharply, gathering up his papers. 'I retire in two months' time and wanted to do something that made my whole pen-pushing, play-it-safe, shiny-arse career actually be worth it. I don't know what's going to happen to the LiteraTec division with all this insane Danish book-burning stuff, but what I do know is that people like you need to stay in it. Lead them on a merry goose-chase, young lady — I can keep Flanker wrapped up in red tape pretty much for ever.'

'Braxton,' I said, giving him a spontaneous hug, 'you're a darling!'

'Nonsense!' he said gruffly, and a tad embarrassed. 'But I do expect a little something in return.'

'And that is?'

'Well,' he said slowly, his eyes dropping to the ground, 'I wonder if you and I might—'

'Might what?'

'Might . . . play golf on Sunday. A few holes.' His eyes gleamed. 'Just for you to get the taste. Believe me, as soon as you grasp the handle of a golf club you'll be hooked for ever! Mrs Hicks need never know. How about it?'

'I'll be there at nine,' I told him, laughing.

'You'll be a long time waiting — I get there at eleven.'

'Eleven it is.'

I shook his hand and walked out of the door a free woman. Sometimes help arrives from the last place you expect it.

I found Bowden fretting in the LiteraTec office and related what had happened.

'Well, well,' he said at last, 'I think old Braxton's got a crush.'

'Oh, stop it!'

The office we were sitting in resembled a large library in a country house somewhere. It was two storeys high, with shelves crammed full of books covering every square inch of wall space. A spiral staircase led to a catwalk which ran around the wall, enabling access to the upper galleries. It was neat and methodical — but somehow less busy than I remembered.

'Where is everyone?'

'When you were here last we had a staff of eight. Now it's only Victor, me and Malm. All the rest were reassigned or laid off.'

'All SpecOps departments?'

Bowden laughed.

'Of course not! The bully boys at SO-I4 are alive and well and answer to Yorrick Kaine's every order. SO-1 haven't seen many cuts, either—'

'Thursday, 'what a delightful surprise!'

It was Victor Analogy, my old boss here at the Swindon LiteraTecs. He was an elderly gentleman with large mutton-chop sideburns, dressed in a neat tweed suit and bow tie. He had taken off his jacket owing to the summer heat but still managed to cut a very dashing figure, despite his advanced age.

'Victor, you're looking very well!'

'And you, dear girl. What devilry have you been up to since last we met?'

'It's a long story.'

'The best sort. Let me guess: inside fiction?'

'In one.'

'What's it like?'

'It's quite good, really. Confusing at times and subject to moments of extreme imaginative overload, but varied and the weather's generally pretty good. Can we talk safely in here?'

Victor nodded and we sat down. I told them about Jurisfiction, the Council of Genres and everything else that had happened to me during my tenure as Bellman. I even told them loosely about my involvement in The Solution of Edwin Drood , which amused them both no end.

'I've always wondered about that,' mused Victor thoughtfully. 'But you're sure about Yorrick Kaine being fictional?'

I told him that I was.

He stood up and walked to the window.

'You'll have a hard time getting close,' said Victor thoughtfully. 'Does he know you're back?'

'Definitely,' said Bowden.

'Then you could be threatening his position as absolute ruler of England almost as much as President Formby. I should keep on your toes, my girl. Is there anything we can do to help?'

I thought for a moment.

'There is, actually. We can't find which book Yorrick Kaine has escaped from. He could be using a false name and we should contact any readers who might recognise the Chancellor's somewhat crazed antics from an obscure character they might have encountered somewhere. We at Jurisfiction have been going through the Great Library at our end but we've still drawn a blank — every character in fiction has been accounted for.'

'We'll do what we can, Thursday — when can you rejoin us?'

'I don't know,' I answered slowly, 'I have to get my husband back. Remember I told you he was eradicated by the Chrono-Guard?'

'Yes; Lindane, wasn't it?'

'Landen. If it wasn't for him I'd probably stay inside fiction.'

We all fell silent for a moment.

'So,' I said cheerfully, 'what's been happening in the world of the LiteraTecs?'

Victor frowned.

'We don't hold with the book-burning lark of Kaine's. You heard about the order to start incinerating Danish literature?'

I nodded.

'Kierkegaard's works are being rounded up as we speak. I told Braxton that if we were asked to do any of it we'd resign.'

'Oh — ah.'

'I'm not sure I like the way you said that,' said Bowden.

I winced.

'I agreed to be the SO-14 Danish Book Seizure Liaison Officer for Flanker — sorry. I didn't have much of a choice.'

'I see that as good news,' put in Bowden. 'You can have them searching in places where they won't find any Danish books. Just be careful. Flanker has been suspicious ever since we said we were too busy to find out who was planning to smuggle copies of The Concept of Dread to Wales for safe-keeping.'

Bowden laughed and lowered his voice.

'It wasn't an excuse.' He chuckled. 'We actually were too busy — gathering copies of banned books ready for transportation to Wales!'

Victor grimaced.

'I really don't want to hear this, Bowden. If you get caught we'll all be for the high jump!'