Robert Rankin - Web Site Story

'Or toilet rolls,' said Kelly. 'You can never have too many of those.'

'Exacdy,' said Minky. 'Although I never keep them under my sink. There's no room.'

'So you haven't seen your husband?'

'No,' said Minky and she tickled the kettle under the spout. 'But I wouldn't be expecting to, what with him being Raptured and everything. But I'll see him when my time comes to be carried off to glory. And then I'll have some words to say to him, you can be assured of that.'

'If he did turn up here,' said Kelly. 'Say he returned from Heaven for some other reason, to pick up a change of underwear or something. Could you phone me?' Kelly paused. 'No, not phone me, come round and tell me. I'm staying at Mrs Gormenghast's.'

'Madam Puce,' said Minky. 'What an eccentric, that •woman, eh?'

'I'd really appreciate it,' said Kelly. 'It's, er, just that I have some money for him. A great deal of money. It's a surprise. I don't want you to mention it to him. But it's a great deal of money.'

'I'll take that then,' said Minky.

'No, he has to sign for it.'

'I can forge his signature.' Minky stroked the kettle's lid. 'It's something all wives have to do. You'll understand when you marry yourself.'

'Why would I marry myself?'

'Because then you can be assured of getting everything when you get divorced.'

'Oh, I see,' said Kelly. 'All these things are so simple, once they're explained.'

'Except for logarithms,' said Minky. 'They're not simple. Or advanced calculus, quantum theory, or Fermat's last theorem. Not to mention the trans-perambulation of pseudo-cosmic antimatter.'

'The transperambulation of pseudo-cosmic antimatter?'

Minky Charker shook her head and patted the kettle.

'Go on then,' said Kelly. 'Say it.'

'Shan't,' said Minky.

'Oh go on, you know you want to.'

'Oh all right. I told you not to mention that.'

Kelly left the house of Big Bob Charker, not to mention Minky, and took to some wanderings of her own. She felt that she ought to speak to Derek. Warn him. Tell him all that she knew. He was her friend now after all and she didn't want any harm to come to him. He really should be warned to keep his hands away from anything that might contain a Mute-chip. And anything meant nearly everything.

Kelly went around to Derek's. She knocked and waited and knocked and waited some more. She felt certain that she heard moans of pleasure coming from an open upstairs window. But nobody came to answer the door, so Kelly wrote out a note for Derek to contact her as soon as he got home, but not by phone, in person. And that it was very very urgent. And then she folded it up and popped it through the letter box, where it fell upon the welcome mat, which, like that of Derek's Aunty Uzi, had long worn out its welcome.

And then Kelly wandered on and knowing that she needed a drink and with it something substantial to eat, she made for the Flying Swan.

The Swan was not exactly heaving. A couple of old duffers sat at the bar counter. A pair of wandering bishops played darts against two skinners of mule. A battered fireman sat hunched at a corner table, bewailing his lot to a long-legged nurse with a ginger beard, who sipped at a pint of hand-drawn ale, but longed for a sex on the beach.

Kelly ordered a red wine and the full surf and turf, which the barman informed her contained something really special tonight. Haunch of wildebeest and perineum of octopus, served on a bed of Nepalese radish and wolf-bean-coated rice, cooked in the Tierra del Fuego style. With a side order of lime juice that could be either used as a garnish, or dabbed upon the wrists to discourage mosquitoes.

Kelly took her red wine to a window table and sat down to gaze out at the summer evening and marshal her thoughts into a plan of campaign.

As you do.

Five minutes hadn't passed, however (it was nearer to four), when a young man approached her table, wearing a sheepish grin.

Kelly looked up at the young man.

The young man looked down at Kelly, grinning sheepishly.

'Is this chair vacant?' he asked, pointing to a vacant chair.

Kelly glanced towards the chair, then back to the questioning young man. He was a personable young man. A sheath of blondie hair clothed his scalp. A sleeveless T-shirt clothed his muscular physique. A pair of too-tight leather trousers clothed all manner of things.

Kelly shook her head. She really wasn't in the mood. 'The chair is vacant,' she said. 'And given the ample selection of other vacant chairs in this establishment tonight, it is my hope that it will remain so.'

'I'll stand then,' said the young man, his sheepish grin transforming itself into a dogged expression.

'But elsewhere, please,' said Kelly.

The young man looked momentarily foxed for an answer.

But he wasn't.

'You'll have to go to Mute Corp Keynes,' he said. 'That's where the answer lies.'

Kelly's blue eyes widened and her hand found its way into her hair. 'Who are you?' she asked.

The young man seated himself in the vacant chair, availing himself of its vacancy. 'Shibboleth,' he said. 'Shibboleth…' and he pronounced the unpronounceable name. 'Brother of Malkuth. You've heard of him.' Shibboleth extended his hand. Kelly did not shake it.

'Good,' said Shibboleth. 'You know better than that, then. You know a lot, don't you? I know quite a lot too.'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Kelly.

'You do,' said Shibboleth. 'Because you're doing what I'm doing, but for different reasons. I've been trying to find out what happened to my brother. And my mother. It has led me to you. You know what happened to them. I know that you do.'

Kelly shook her head. 'Forget it,' she said. 'You're Mute Corp security, aren't you? Come out to check me out. Crude, very crude.'

'There's nothing crude about me,' said Shibboleth. 'Except perhaps my taste in trousers. But I do have extremely good thighs and although man-made fibres stretch in all the right places, they'll never be leather, will they?'

'I won't tell you anything,' said Kelly. 'Please go away.'

‘I’ll tell you two things,' said Shibboleth. 'Firstly you have a tattoo of an Om upon your stomach and secondly you should really turn your face away from the window, you've been under surveillance ever since you left the Mute Corp building today. The fat man across the road, leaning on the lamppost. He's been following you and I'll bet he really wished you'd taken a cab. He's watching you through macrovision spectacles, he can read your lips.'

Kelly turned her face away from the window. 'And how do you know about the tattoo?' she asked.

'You just met your first well-poisoner,' said Shibboleth. 'I'm working with my brother's set-up. It's hacked into the Mute Corp CCTV system, amongst other things. I witnessed your medical. It was disgusting, but strangely compelling. I'm sorry.'

'And I am embarrassed,' said Kelly. 'Something I do not enjoy being.'

'But I am telling the truth. I'm surprised you haven't noticed the fat man.'

'I don't look twice at fat people,' said Kelly. 'It's probably on my file somewhere.'

'We could work together on this.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about,' said Kelly. 'I work for Mute Corp. I will have no hesitation in informing them of your criminal activities first thing in the morning.'

'Yeah, right,' said Shibboleth. 'But it's a tricky one this, isn't it? You don't know if you can trust me and I don't really know if I can trust you. You might be high-ranking Mute Corp security, as Mr Pokey thinks you are. Although he isn't certain, which is why the fat man is following you. Or you might be someone who wants to put a stop to it. All of it. So where does that leave us? Both distrusting each other. But both needing someone to trust.'