Read Online Djinn Rummy by Tom Holt - Free Book Online Page B

a thousand-dollar bill that had somehow failed to dematerialise, and he wanted to divert the genie’s attention. ‘Our organisation, ’ he said, ‘is a radical group devoted to the cause of ecology. The way we see it, saving the planet is up to us, because nobody else is fit to be trusted with it. OK so far?’
    The genie dipped his head.
    â€˜As part of our programme,’ Number Two went on, ‘we intend to destroy all cities with a population in excess of one hundred thousand. The reasons . . .’
    With a slight crease of the lips, the genie waved the reasons aside. Number Two swallowed hard, and went on.
    â€˜In order to do this in an ecologically friendly way,’ he said, finding the words strangely hard to expel from his throat, ‘we have developed several new strains of . . . of -’
    â€˜Wildflowers,’ interrupted the Chair. ‘Pansies, forget-me-nots, that sort of thing.’
    The genie grinned. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’ll admit, I was
impressed. For puny, stunted, pig-ignorant mortals, not bad.’
    â€˜Well.’ The Chair, too, found that her throat was suddenly dry. ‘We need someone to sow the seeds . From the air.’
    â€˜Over all the cities simultaneously,’ added Number Three, ‘so as to create the maximum effect. If all targets are engaged at the same time, they can’t come to each other’s assistance.’
    The genie nodded; a token of respect, the gesture implied, from one thoroughly nasty piece of work to another.
    All three committee members suddenly began to wish they were somewhere else.
    â€˜And you want me,’ drawled the genie, ‘to do this little job for you, is that it?’
    The Chair nodded. She had a splitting headache, and she felt sick. ‘If you’d like to, of course.’
    â€˜I’d love to.’
    â€˜Ah.’
    â€˜It would mean,’ the genie went on, ‘the deaths of countless millions of innocent people. Deaths by the most bizarrely hideous means imaginable. Wanton, barbaric genocide.’ The genie smiled pleasantly. ‘Sounds like a bit of all right to me.’
    Number Two cleared his throat. ‘A certain inevitable level of casualties . . .’ he began, and found that he could-n’t continue. The genie’s eyes seemed to push him back into his chair.
    â€˜Smashed into pulp by the petals of a giant primrose,’ he said, slowly, with relish. ‘Horrific, bizarre, and with that ultimately humiliating soupçon of frivolity that marks the true evil genius. I like it. ‘

    Sweat was pouring down the Chair’s cheeks like condensation down an office window. ‘It’s them or us,’ she gasped. ‘People or plants. We’re talking about the future of the planet. You do see that, don’t you?’
    The genie frowned thoughtfully. ‘I see that you’re a bunch of raving lunatics,’ he said calmly, ‘but so what?’ He beamed. ‘That makes you my kind of people. Glad to be on the team.’
    Number Two tried to stand up, ineffectually. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘the whole project is still subject to review. We aren’t actually committed to anything yet . . .’
    â€˜You are now.’
    For a fraction of a second, a very small fraction indeed, Number Two had a vision of what it would be like. For some reason, the city he visualised was Oslo. He vomited.
    â€˜These,’ the genie went on, holding up a cloth bag the size of a large onion, ‘are the seeds of the flowers you so thoughtfully made possible. Anything possible, I’m allowed to do.’ The image shimmered and glowed, like the heart of the fire. ‘Thanks,’ he said, and turned his eyes on the Chair. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘I didn’t quite catch your name.’
    â€˜Fuselli,’ croaked the Chair. ‘Mary Fuselli.’
    The genie grew, filling the room.