asked:
'What happened to my cathedral?'
'Burned durring the dissolution of the monasteries.'
'Got damn,' he muttered, eyebrows raised, 'should have seen that coming.'
'
'I have no idea, sweetheart — but I've a feeling things are just beginning to get interesting.'
'Well,' said Lydia to the camera, 'a Revealment that could spell potential disaster for the Goliath Corporation and—'
Her producer was gesticulating wildly for her not to connect 'tyrant' with 'Kaine' live on air.
'—an as yet unnamed tyrant. This is Lydia Startright, bringing you a miraculous event live for Toad News. And now, a word from our sponsors, Goliath Pharmaceuticals, the makers of Haerrmarelief.'
12
'Operative Spike Stoker was with SO-17, the Vampire and Werewolf disposal operation, undeniably the most lonely of the SpecOps divisions. SO-17 operatives worked in the twilight world of the semi-dead, changelings, vampires, lycanthropes and those of a generally evil disposition. Spike had been decorated more times than I had read
I pushed Friday back towards my car, deep in thought. The stakes had just been raised and any chance that I might somehow influence the outcome of the Superhoop were suddenly made that much more impossible. With Goliath and Kaine both having a vested interest in making sure the Swindon Mallets lost, chances of our victory had dropped from 'highly unlikely' to 'nigh impossible'.
'It explains,' said a voice, 'why Goliath are changing to a faith-based corporate management system.'
I turned to find my stalker, Millon de Floss, walking close behind me. It must have been important for him to contravene the blanket restraining order. I stopped for a moment.
'Why do you think that?'
'Once they are a religion they won't be a
'Does that mean,' I asked slowly, 'that they're taking St Zvlkx seriously?'
'He's too accurate not to be, Miss Next, however unlikely it may seem. Now that they know the complete seventh Revealment, they'll try and do anything to stop Swindon winning — and continue with the religion thing as a back-up just in case.'
It made sense — sort of. Dad must have known this or something very like it. None of it boded very well, but my father had said the likelihood of this armageddon was only 22 per cent, so the answer must be somewhere.
'I'm going to visit Goliathopohs this afternoon,' I said thoughtfully. 'Have you found out anything about Kaine?'
Millon rummaged in his pocket for a notepad, found it and flicked through the pages, which seemed to be full of numbers.
'It's here somewhere,' he said apologetically. 'I like to collect vacumn-cleaner serial numbers and was investigating a rare Hoover XB-23E when I got the call. Here it is. This Kaine fellow is a conspiracist's delight. He arrived on the scene five years ago with no past, no parents, nothing. His national insurance number was only given to him in 1982, and it seems the only jobs he has ever held was with his publishing company and then as MP.'
'Not a lot to go on, then.'
'Not yet, but I'll keep on digging. You might be interested to know that he has been seen on several occasions with Lola Vavoom.'
'Who hasn't?'
'Agreed. You wanted to know about Mr Schitt-Hawse? He heads the Goliath tech division.'
'You sure?'
Millon looked dubious for a moment.
'In the conspiracy industry the word 'sure' has a certain plasticity about it, but yes. We have a mole at Goliathopolis. Admittedly they only serve in the canteen, but you'd be surprised the sensitive information that one can overhear giving out shortbread fingers. Apparently Schitt-Hawse has been engaged in something called 'The Ovitron Project'. We're not sure but it might be a development of your uncle's ovinator. Could it be something along the lines of
'I sincerely hope not.'
I made a few notes, thanked Millon for his time and continued heading back to my car, my head full of potential futures, ovinators and Kaine.
Ten minutes later we were in my Speedster, heading north towards Cricklade. My father had told me that Cindy would fail to kill me three times before she died herself, but there was a chance the future didn't have to turn out that way — after all, I had once been shot dead by a SpecOps marksman in an alternative future, and I was still very much alive.
I hadn't seen Spike for over two years but had been gratified to learn he had moved out of his dingy apartment to a new address in Cricklade. I soon found his street — it was a newly built estate of Cotswold stone which shone a warm glow of ochre in the sunlight. As we drove slowly down the road checking door numbers, Friday helpfully pointed out things of interest.
'
I was hoping that Spike wasn't there so I could speak to Cindy on her own, but I was out of luck. I parked behind his SpecOps black-and-white and climbed out. Spike himself was sitting in a deckchair on the front lawn, and my heart fell when I saw that not only had he married Cindy but they had also had a child -a girl of about one was sitting on the grass next to him playing under a parasol. I cursed inwardly as Friday hid behind my leg. I was going to have to make Cindy play ball — the alternative wouldn't be good for her and would be worse for Spike and their daughter.
'Yo!' yelled Spike, telling the person on the other end of the phone to hold it one moment and getting up to give me a hug. 'How you doing, Next?'
'I'm good, Spike. You?'
He spread his arms, indicating the trappings of middle England suburbia. The UPVC double glazing, the well-kept lawn, the drive, the wrought-iron sunrise gate.
'Look at all this, sister! Isn't it the best?'
'
'Cute kid. Go on in. I'll be with you in a moment.'
I walked into the house and found Cindy in the kitchen. She had a pinny on and her hair tied up.
'Hello,' I said, trying to sound as normal as possible, 'you must be Cindy.'