Scoop shrugged, smiling his unpleasant smile again. “Oh, you’d be surprised how close to the truth we get, even if it is by accident.”
There was a knock at the door. Scoop looked up with a certain amount of relief that he wouldn’t have to face me alone any more. He called for the new arrival to enter, the door opened, and both Scoop and I stood up to greet the newcomer. She was tall and athletic-looking, and drop-dead gorgeous. Long jet-black hair framed a heart-shaped face, with high cheek-bones, sparkling eyes, and one of those old-fashioned pouting rosebud mouths. She wore a smart polka-dot dress, carefully cut to show off as much of her excellent body and magnificent bosom as possible.
She also had two cute little horns curling up from her forehead, poking out of her Bettie-Page-style bangs.
“This is one of our most promising young journalists,” Scoop said proudly. “John Taylor, may I present to you Bettie Divine. And vice versa, of course. She’ll be partnering you on this case.”
I’d been reaching out to shake Bettie’s hand, but immediately withdrew it. I glared at Scoop.
“I don’t think so. I choose my own partners on cases, people I know can keep up with me and look after themselves. I can’t guarantee you results if I have to drag a passenger around with me. No offence, Bettie.”
“None taken,” she said cheerfully in a rich husky voice. “But I work for the Unnatural Inquirer. Let’s see if you can keep up with me.”
She sat on the edge of the Sub-Editor’s desk, crossing her legs to show off an awful lot of thigh, and leaning back so she could arch her back and point her breasts at me. Good tactics. Good legs. Really good breasts.
“Hey,” she said, amused. “My face is up here.”
“So it is,” I said. “What exactly is it you do here, Bettie?”
“I am a demon girl reporter, darling. And I do mean demon. Daddy was a Rolling Stone, on one of their Nightside tours, Mummy was a slut lust demon groupie. Somebody ought to have known better, but here I am. Large as life, and twice as talented. I really am a first-class journalist, and you’re going to need me on this case, darling. So, just lie back and enjoy it.”
“She’s right,” Scoop said heavily. He sat down behind his desk again, and I lowered myself back onto the unwelcoming visitor’s chair. Scoop laced his fingers together and looked at me steadily. “Bettie’s accompanying you is part of the deal, Mr. Taylor. If we’ve got to spend the kind of money it’s going to take to get you to do this for us, we are determined to get our money’s worth. And the best way to recoup some of the expense is by running our very own exclusive story of how you did it.”
“On the case with John Taylor!” said Bettie. “An intimate account of our time together, traversing the darkest depths of the Nightside! Honestly, sweetie, we won’t be able to print copies fast enough. The bouncer might as well be outside throwing them in. No-one’s ever had a story like this.”
“No,” I said.
She slid forward off the desk and leaned over me, so close I could feel her breath on my face. “You’re going to need me on this case, darling. Really you are. And I can be very helpful.”
I stood up, and she retreated a little. “Put the brakes on, darling,” I said. “I’m spoken for.”
“Ah, yes!” said Bettie, clapping her dainty little hands together and giving me a knowing look. “We know all about that! The infamous John Taylor and the sexy psycho killer Shotgun Suzie! We’re already taking odds as to which of you will end up killing the other. Do tell us all about her, John; what’s Suzie really like? Is she still sexy when the bedroom door is shut? What do you talk about in those special little moments? Inquiring minds are positively panting to know all the sordid little details!”
“Let them pant,” I said, and something in my voice made her fall back a step. “Suzie is a very private, very dangerous person.”
“Why don’t I explain exactly what the case entails,” Scoop said quickly. I sat down in my chair again, and Bettie leaned against the side of the desk, facing me, her arms folded under her impressive bosom. I concentrated on Scoop.
“There has been a broadcast from the Afterlife,” Scoop said bluntly. “And the broadcast has been intercepted. It turned up on someone’s television set, quite out of the blue with no warning; and the possessor of that television set, one Pen Donavon, was sharp enough to record it, and burn it onto a DVD. He then approached us, offering the Afterlife Recording for sale; and we bought exclusive rights to it for one hell of a lot of money.”
“An intercepted broadcast?” I said. “From Heaven, or Hell?”
“Who knows?” said Scoop. “For that matter, who cares? This is actual information, from the Great Beyond! Our readers will eat this up with spoons.”
“Am I to understand you haven’t actually seen what’s on this DVD yet?” I said.
“Not a glimpse,” Scoop said cheerfully.
“It could be a fake,” I said. “Or it could be a broadcast from some other world or dimension.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Scoop. “We own it. We want it. But unfortunately, Donavon has disappeared. He was on his way to us, with the DVD, in return for the very generous cheque we had waiting, but he never got here. We want you to find it, and him, for us. We have to have that Recording! We’ve been trailing it all week, for its appearance in the Sunday edition! If someone else gets their hands on it, and pips us to the post…And it’s not just the story; do you have any idea how much we could make selling copies of the DVD?”
I was still unconvinced, despite his enthusiasm. “This isn’t going to be like that transmission from the future that someone taped off their television back in the nineties, is it? Suzie bought a copy of the tape off eBay, and when we played it, it was only a guy in a futuristic outfit, showing his bare arse to the camera and giggling a lot.”
Scoop leaned forward over his desk, doing his best to fix me with his watery eyes. “The Unnatural Inquirer authorises you to find and recover this Afterlife Recording, and its owner, by any and all means you deem necessary. Bring the DVD to us, preferably with the owner but not necessarily, and the Unnatural Inquirer will pay you one million pounds. In cash, gold, diamonds, or postage stamps; whatever you prefer. We’ll also pay you a bonus of another fifty thousand pounds, if you will agree to watch the Recording and give us your expert opinion as to whether or not it’s the real thing. The word is, you are qualified to know.”
I nodded, neither confirming nor denying. “And if I say it’s a fake?”
Scoop shrugged. “We’ll put it out anyway. We can always spice it up with some specially shot extra footage. We can use the same people we’ve got working on Lilith’s diaries.”
“Wait just a minute!” I said. “I know for a fact that my mother never left any diaries!”
“We know!” said Scoop. “That’s why we’ve got three of our best people writing them now, in the next room. They’re going to be big, I can tell you! Not as big as the Afterlife Recording, of course, which will be a license to print money…Not that we’d do that, of course. Not after the last time…You have to find this DVD for us!”
“And I go along with you to tell the story of how you tracked it down!” said Bettie.
I thought about it. A million pounds was an awful lot of money…“All right,” I said. “Partner.”
Bettie Divine jumped up and down, and did a little dance of joy, which did very interesting things to her breasts. I looked back at Scoop.
“If this Afterlife Recording should turn out to be the real thing,” I said, “I’m not sure anyone should be allowed to see it. Real proof of Heaven or Hell? I don’t think we’re ready for that.”
“It’s the headline that’s important,” said Scoop. “That’s what will sell lots and lots of papers. The DVD…can be fixed, one way or the other. It’s the concept we’re selling.”
“But if it is real,” I said. “If it is hard evidence of what happens after we die…the whole Nightside could go crazy.”
“I know!” said Bettie Divine. “A real story at last! Who would have thought it! Isn’t it simply too wonderful, darling!”
THREE -
Bettie and I stepped out of the Unnatural Inquirer’s offices and shot straight back to the same street corner
