Web Site Story

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 sexon 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.'

'Surf and turf,' said the barman, arriving with Kelly's meal and placing it upon the table with a great show of politeness. 'And I've thrown in a side order of Gambian Bugaboo fish entrecote uambe at no extra cost. Although you are free to tip generously should the mood take you. And I really hope that it does, because I'm saving up for a tightrope of my very own, so I can run away with the circus.'

'Any particular circus?' Shibboleth asked.

'Professor Merlin's Greatest Show Off Earth,' said the barman. 'It travels between the planets in a Victorian steam ship. That's the life for me. The smell of the sawdust, the small dwarves called Dave, and all the confetti you can eat, when you play for a rich potentate at the weddmg of his daughter.'

'That's the life,' said Shibboleth. 'I'd tip you myself, but I think that I'll just keep the money.'

The barman bowed and departed, humming 'The March of the Gladiators'.

Kelly took up her eating irons. 'I'd prefer it if you'd go away now,' she told Shibboleth. 'I'm very hungry and I'd prefer to eat alone.'

'I can understand that,' said Shibboleth. 'And you must be very hungry. Considering how you threw up your lunch in that pub toilet and everything.'

'Wwf?'said Kelly.

'I took the liberty of hacking into the pub's security system, after I'd hacked into the street surveillance system. You wouldn't believe where the cameras are hidden in that toilet. You'd think that Chuck Berry owned the place [17].'

'Come back in ten minutes,' said Kelly. 'When I'm finished.'

Ten minutes later, or it might have been eleven, although frankly, who's been counting, Shibboleth returned to Kelly's table.

'If I believed you,' said Kelly, wiping her lips with an oversized red gingham napkin.

'Which means that you do,' said Shibboleth.

'Which means if,' said Kelly. 'What could you tell me, that would positively convince me?'

'Nothing,' said Shibboleth. 'But I could show you where the chapel is. I could take you there.'

'And I would let a complete stranger take me to Mute Corp Keynes at night? Do I look suicidal?'