Read Online Dream London by Tony Ballantyne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tony Ballantyne
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situation? How long do you think we’ll let you live if you don’t follow through? You know too much. You’re part of this.”
I didn’t bother to put up any pretence. I knew she was right. It’s what I would have done. I tried another tack.
“But I know nothing about being a clerk!”
“So what? That sort of thing never stopped you in the past. Didn’t you once walk through Afghanistan dressed in a burqa?”
I passed the envelope from hand to hand, appreciating the luxurious feel of the paper.
“What about clothes and things? Don’t clerks wear suits?”
“That will all be waiting for you at Alan’s house tonight.”
I nodded. Bill’s people had obviously thought of everything.
“How did you arrange all of this?” I asked.
“Through Alan. There are still a few lines of communication left to the outside world, but every month we lose a few more. Oh, something else. You’re now Alan’s nephew. He’ll tell you the details tonight.”
“What if I’d said no?” I said. “What if last night, when Alan met me, I’d said no?”
She smiled, sweetly.
“Actually, that wouldn’t have been such a problem. There are other people who we could have asked. Identity isn’t the problem it once was. That’s one thing we have going for us.”
That brought me up short. Just when I was starting to feel a little special.
“Now, look the other way,” she said, and as I did so I heard the swish of her skirts as she replaced the leather folder in its hiding place.
I gazed at one of the pictures on the wall. A naked woman, holding a yellow snake that bore more than a passing resemblance to the one that Bill had just killed.
“You can turn round now.”
I did so. Bill stood before me, no sign of the leather pouch, every inch a working girl.
“Okay. You can go downstairs now. Walk straight out of the pub and go back to the house. Margaret will be waiting for you there.”
“Okay,” I said. “Will I see you again?”
“Tomorrow night, after work.”
“Where do we meet?”
“You come here of, course,” said Bill. “Where else would you go to celebrate your first day at work? I’ll be waiting for you.”
THREE
BELLTOWER END
I LEFT THE room and made my way downstairs to the pub. I could feel the eyes of the other customers upon me as I walked through the dingy taproom, and I wondered if they recognised me. Would they think Captain Wedderburn was sampling the competition?
I pushed my way into the bright June sunshine.
“Buy some spangled asparagus, mister? Put some lead back into your pencil.”
The woman on the market stall cackled as she thrust the vegetable into my face.
“No, thank you,” I said, pushing my way past her, touching the envelope in my pocket as I went.
I came to the corner of Hayling Street, and looked down into its green dappled depths. I heard parrots squawking down there. Everything seemed so calm and peaceful compared to the chaos of the market.
And I paused. Bill had told me to go back to the Poison Yews and Margaret, and here I was obeying her command...
Not twenty-four hours had passed since I had woken to the sound of salamanders munching a beetle. During that time I seemed to have lost control of my life. Well, maybe not lost control, but rather handed it across to Alan and Bill and some transatlantic conspiracy. A new home, a new job. I had walked out of Belltower End and my old life with barely a complaint.
Was I under some influence or other? There were stories all over Dream London of people losing control of their will. Every brothel had tales of women who had left their home and had been put under the influence, how they had woken up in a bed at the other side of the city as a working girl. Not that I had met any of those women. Every girl who worked for me did so of her own choice, more or less.
How much could I trust Alan and Bill?
More than I could trust Daddio Clarke, I supposed. The Daddio. I’d led his Quantifier to believe I
I didn’t bother to put up any pretence. I knew she was right. It’s what I would have done. I tried another tack.
“But I know nothing about being a clerk!”
“So what? That sort of thing never stopped you in the past. Didn’t you once walk through Afghanistan dressed in a burqa?”
I passed the envelope from hand to hand, appreciating the luxurious feel of the paper.
“What about clothes and things? Don’t clerks wear suits?”
“That will all be waiting for you at Alan’s house tonight.”
I nodded. Bill’s people had obviously thought of everything.
“How did you arrange all of this?” I asked.
“Through Alan. There are still a few lines of communication left to the outside world, but every month we lose a few more. Oh, something else. You’re now Alan’s nephew. He’ll tell you the details tonight.”
“What if I’d said no?” I said. “What if last night, when Alan met me, I’d said no?”
She smiled, sweetly.
“Actually, that wouldn’t have been such a problem. There are other people who we could have asked. Identity isn’t the problem it once was. That’s one thing we have going for us.”
That brought me up short. Just when I was starting to feel a little special.
“Now, look the other way,” she said, and as I did so I heard the swish of her skirts as she replaced the leather folder in its hiding place.
I gazed at one of the pictures on the wall. A naked woman, holding a yellow snake that bore more than a passing resemblance to the one that Bill had just killed.
“You can turn round now.”
I did so. Bill stood before me, no sign of the leather pouch, every inch a working girl.
“Okay. You can go downstairs now. Walk straight out of the pub and go back to the house. Margaret will be waiting for you there.”
“Okay,” I said. “Will I see you again?”
“Tomorrow night, after work.”
“Where do we meet?”
“You come here of, course,” said Bill. “Where else would you go to celebrate your first day at work? I’ll be waiting for you.”
THREE
BELLTOWER END
I LEFT THE room and made my way downstairs to the pub. I could feel the eyes of the other customers upon me as I walked through the dingy taproom, and I wondered if they recognised me. Would they think Captain Wedderburn was sampling the competition?
I pushed my way into the bright June sunshine.
“Buy some spangled asparagus, mister? Put some lead back into your pencil.”
The woman on the market stall cackled as she thrust the vegetable into my face.
“No, thank you,” I said, pushing my way past her, touching the envelope in my pocket as I went.
I came to the corner of Hayling Street, and looked down into its green dappled depths. I heard parrots squawking down there. Everything seemed so calm and peaceful compared to the chaos of the market.
And I paused. Bill had told me to go back to the Poison Yews and Margaret, and here I was obeying her command...
Not twenty-four hours had passed since I had woken to the sound of salamanders munching a beetle. During that time I seemed to have lost control of my life. Well, maybe not lost control, but rather handed it across to Alan and Bill and some transatlantic conspiracy. A new home, a new job. I had walked out of Belltower End and my old life with barely a complaint.
Was I under some influence or other? There were stories all over Dream London of people losing control of their will. Every brothel had tales of women who had left their home and had been put under the influence, how they had woken up in a bed at the other side of the city as a working girl. Not that I had met any of those women. Every girl who worked for me did so of her own choice, more or less.
How much could I trust Alan and Bill?
More than I could trust Daddio Clarke, I supposed. The Daddio. I’d led his Quantifier to believe I
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