Geoffrey Anstey's head revolving incessantly in his mind. It revolved disapprovingly, as if pointing an accusing finger at Dirk. The fact that it did not have an accusing finger with which to point only served to drive the point it was trying to make home all the harder.
Dirk screwed up his eyes and attempted to concentrate instead on the problem of the mysteriously vanished Miss Pearce, but was unable to get much of a grip on it. When she had used to work for him she would often disappear mysteriously for two or three days at a time, but the papers didn't make any kind of fuss about it then. Admittedly, there weren't things exploding around her at the time, at least, not that he was aware of. She had never mentioned anything exploding particularly.
Furthermore, whenever he thought of her face, which he had last seen on the television set in Geoffrey Anstey's house, his thoughts tended instantly to sink towards the head which was busy revolving thirty-three and a third times a minute three floors beneath it. This was not conducive to the calm and contemplative mood he was seeking. Nor was the very loud music on the caf's music system.
He sighed, and stai-ed at the electronic I Ching calculator.
If he wanted to get his thoughts into some kind of order then maybe chronological order would be as good a one as any. He decided to cast his mind back to the beginning of the day, before any of these appalling things had happened, or at least, before they'd happened to him.
First there had been the fridge.
It seemed to him that by comparison with everything else, the problem of what to do about his fridge had now shrunk to fairly manageable proportions. It still provoked a discemible twinge of fear and guilt, but here, he thought, was a problem which he could face up to with relative calm.
The little book of instructions suggested that he should simply concentrate 'soulfully' on the question which was 'besieging' him, write it down, ponder on it, enjoy the silence, and then once he had achieved inner harmony and tranquillity he should push the red button.
There wasn't a red button, but there was a blue button marked 'Red', and this Dirk took to be the one.
He concentrated for a while on the question, then looked through his pockets for a piece of paper, but was unable to find one. In the end he wrote his question, 'Should I buy a new fridge?' on a corner of his napkin. Then he took the view that if he was going to wait until he had achieved inner harmony and tranquillity he could be there all night, so he went ahead and pushed the blue button marked 'Red' anyway. A symbol flashed up in a corner of the screen, a hexagram which looked like this:
************ ***********
*************************
************ ***********
************ ***********
************ ***********
*************************
3 : CHUN
the I Ching calculator then scrolled this text Across its tiny LCD display:
'THE JUDGEMENT OF KING WEN:
'Chun Signifies Difficulties At Outset, As Of Blade
Of
Grass Pushing Up Against Stone. The Time Is Full
Of
Irregularities And Obscurities: Superior Man Will Adjust
His Measures As In Sorting The Threads Of The Warp
And Woof. Firm Correctness Will Bring At Last Success.
Early Advances Should Only Be Made With Caution.
There Will Be Advantage In Appointing Feudal Princes.
'LINE 6 CHANGES:
'THE COMMENTARY OF THE DUKE OF CHOU:
'The Horses And The Chariot Obliged To Retreat.
Streams Of Bloody Tears Will Flow.'
Dirk considered this for a few moments, and then decided that on balance it appeared to be a vote in favour of getting the new fridge, which, by a staggering coincidence, was the course of action which he himself favoured.
There was a pay phone in one of the dark corners where waiters slouched moodily at one another. Dirk threaded his way through them, wondering whom it was they reminded him of, and eventually deciding that it was the small crowd of naked men standing around behind the Holy Family in Michelangelo's picture of the same name, for no more apparent reason than that Michelangelo rather liked them.
He telephoned an acquaintance of his called Nobby Paxton, or so he claimed, who worked the darker side of the domestic appliance supply business. Dirk came straight to the point.
'Dobby, I deed a fridge.'
