end of two ropes, one of which had been expertly knotted round her neck, and who was subsequently hanged and/or decapitated, died in any meaningfully accidental manner. Of course it's up to you but...'
'All right, then what the hell do you suggest?'
'Turn a blind eye, old boy,' said the Major. 'After all Mrs Wilt is only human...'
'Only?' muttered Dr Felden. 'A clearer example of anthropomorphism...'
'And she's got to answer the call of nature sometime.'
'Call of nature?' shouted Flint. 'She's done that already. She's squatting there like a ruddy performing elephant...'
'Pee, old boy, pee,' continued the Major. 'She's got to get up to have a pee sooner or later.'
'Pray later than sooner,' said the psychiatrist. 'The thought of that ghastly shape getting off that chair would be too much to bear.'
'Anyway she's probably got a bladder like a barrage balloon,' said Flint 'Mind you, she can't be any too warm and there's nothing like cold for making one hit the piss-pot.'
'In which case it's curtains for La Schautz,' said the Major. 'Lets us off the hook, what?'
'I can think of happier ways of putting it,' said the Professor, 'and it would still leave us with the problem of Fraulein Schautz's evident martyrdom.'
Flint left them arguing and went out to look for the Superintendent. As he passed through the Communication Centre he was stopped by the sergeant. A series of squeaks and squelches was coming from one of the listening devices.
'It's the boom aimed at the kitchen window,' the sergeant explained.
'Kitchen window?' said Flint incredulously. 'Sounds more like a squad of mice tap-dancing in a septic tank. What the hell are those squeaks?'
'Children,' said the sergeant. 'Hardly likely, I know, but I've yet to hear one mouse tell another to shut its fucking trap. And it's not coming from inside the house. The two wogs have been complaining that they haven't anyone left to shoot. If you want my opinion...'
But Flint was already clambering across the rubble of the conservatory in search of the Superintendent. He found him lying in the grass beside the summerhouse at the bottom of the Wilts' garden, studying Gudrun Schautz's anatomy through a pair of binoculars
'Extraordinary lengths these lunatics will go to gain some publicity,' he said by way of explanation. 'It's a good thing we've kept the TV cameras out of range.'
'She's not up there out of choice,' said Flint. 'It's Mrs Wilt's doing and we've got a chance to take the two swine on the ground floor. They're out of hostages for the time being.'
'Are they really?' said the Superintendent, and transferred his observation to the kitchen windows with some reluctance. A moment later he was refocusing his binoculars on the compost bin.
'Good God,' he muttered, 'I've heard of rapid fermentation but...Here, you take a look at that bin by the back door.'
Flint took the binoculars and looked. In close-up he could see what the Superintendent meant by rapid fermentation. The compost was alive. It moved, it heaved, several bean haulms rose and fell, while a beetroot suddenly emerged from the sludge and promptly disappeared again. Finally, and most disconcerting of all, something that resembled a Hallowe'en pumpkin with matted hair peered over the side of the bin
Flint closed his eyes, opened them again and found himself looking through a mask of decaying vegetable matter at a very familiar face.
Chapter 22
Five minutes later Wilt was hauled unceremoniously from the compost heap while a dozen armed
