won't reach my house. You'll be bloody lynched by the neighbours. Mrs Fogin's nephew was blown up in Belfast and Professor Ball's got a thing about gays. His wife married one.'
'Better change into the KEEP CLAPHAM WHITE shirts, chaps,' said the Major.
'Better not,' said Wilt. 'Mr and Mrs Bokani at Number 11 would be on to Race Relations like the clappers. Can't you think of something neutral?'
'Mickey Mouse, sir?' suggested one of the officers.
'Oh, all right,' said the Major grumpily, 'one Mickey Mouse and the rest Donald Ducks.'
'Christ,' said Wilt, 'I don't know how many men you've got but if you're going to flood the neighbourhood with Donald Ducks armed to the teeth with whatever you have in those gigantic handbags you'll have a whole lot of schizophrenic infants on your conscience.'
'Never mind that,' said the Major, 'you leave the tactical angle to us. We've had experience before of this sort of operation and all we want from you is a detailed plan of the domestic terrain.'
'Talk about calling a spade an earth-inverting horticultural implement,' said Wilt. 'I never thought I'd live to hear my home called a domestic terrain.'
He picked up a pencil but the Superintendent intervened. 'Look, if we don't get Mr Wilt back to the house soon, someone may begin wondering where he is,' he protested.
As if to reinforce this argument the phone rang.
'It's for you,' said the Major. 'Some bugger called Flint who says he's holed up in the bank.'
'I thought I told you not to make any outgoing calls,' the Superintendent said angrily into the phone. 'Relieve themselves? Of course they can... An appointment at three with Mr Daniles? Who's he?... Oh shit... Where?...Well, empty the wastepaper basket for Chrissake... I don't have to tell you where. I should have thought that was patently obvious... What do you mean it's going to look peculiar?... Do they have to cross the entire bank?... I know all about the smell. Get hold of an aerosol or something... Well if he objects detain the sod. And Flint, see if someone has a bucket and use that in future.'
He slammed down the phone and turned back to the Major. Things are steaming up at the bank and if we don't move swiftly '
'Someone's going to smell a rat?' suggested Wilt. 'Now, do you want me to draw my house or not?'
'Yes,' said the Major, 'and fast.'
'There's no need to adopt that tone,' said Wilt. 'You may be eager to have a battle on my property but I want to know who's going to pay for the damage. My wife's a very particular woman and if you start killing people all over the carpet in the living-room...'
'Mr Wilt,' said the Major with determined patience, 'we shall do everything we can to avoid any violence on your property. It is for precisely that reason we need a detailed plan of the domestic... er... the house.'
'I think if we leave Mr Wilt to draw the plan...' said the Superintendent and nodded towards the door. The Major followed him out and they conferred in the corridor.
'Listen,' said the Superintendent, 'I've already had a report from your trick-cyclist that the little bastard's a mass of nerves and if you're going to start bullying him '
'Superintendent,' said the Major, 'it may interest you to know that I have a casualty allowance of ten on this op and if he's one of them I shan't be sorry. War Office approval.'
'And if we don't get him in there, and his wife and children out, you'll have used up six of your quota,' snapped the Superintendent.
'All I can say is that a man who puts his living-room carpet before his country and the Western World...' He would have said a lot more had it not been for the arrival of the para-psychologist with a cup of coffee.
'Fixed him a spot of nervebracer,' he said cheerfully. 'Should see him through.'
