Read Online Retromancer by Robert Rankin - Free Book Online

take care, young Rizla, you really must. And when you see that number twenty-seven, don’t think, just run.’
    ‘But how?’ I said in much wonder and confusion. ‘And what do you mean? And who are you?’
    ‘You may know me as Diogenes. Now take care.’
    And he handed me back what remained of my cigarette and he tipped his cap to me. And I straightened up in my seat and then I went suddenly, ‘Wahh!’
    And I jumped considerably and Hugo Rune laughed.
    ‘What?’ I went. And, ‘Where?’ And, ‘Ow!’ And I looked down at the fingers of my right hand, which hurt. Considerably.
    ‘You nodded off,’ said Hugo Rune, ‘with a lit cigarette between your fingers. You must take care, young Rizla. You really must.’
    I opened my mouth, but had nothing to say.
    And so I closed it again.

9
    We disembarked from the tram at Mornington Crescent.
    And approached the Underground station.
    I was feeling a tad wobbly about the knees of me. Something odd had happened on that tram and although ‘odd’ was the currency in which Mr Rune dealt, it still had the ability to throw me off my balance and out of my kilter.
    What had I experienced upon that top deck? A dream, a vision? Had I actually met Mr Diogenes? Had he imparted important information to me? The business regarding the number twenty-seven and the running that must be done upon the seeing of this number? I was dazed and roundly confused and this clearly showed on my face.
    ‘Perk up, young Rizla,’ said Mr Rune. ‘A treat awaits you within.’ And he gestured with his stick towards the entrance to the Underground. ‘We are going below.’
    ‘I have travelled on the Tube before,’ I said. ‘I will find little of the treat in that.’
    ‘We are not going a-travelling. We have arrived. At the Ministry of Serendipity.’
    Now Mr Rune had spoken to me before of this mysterious Ministry and there had been at least two cases in The Brightonomicon in which their involvement had been apparent. What knowledge regarding this Ministry that I had gleaned from Hugo Rune was that it was ‘the power behind many thrones’. That ‘those who control the controllers of our nation’ were to be found within. Precisely what Mr Rune’s relationship with this literally underground organisation was, I had not been told. And so I asked to be now.
    ‘They are presently covering my expenses,’ was the reply. And Mr Rune tapped his stout stick on the pavement. ‘They require my skills and knowledge. I am engaged, as it were, in furthering the War Effort.’
    ‘We are clearly here because of the phone call you received,’ I said. ‘The tarot card I picked is therefore surely irrelevant.’
    Mr Rune composed his eyebrows into a Gothic arch. ‘Shame on you, Rizla,’ he said. ‘The Ministry might pay my bills, but I work for a greater good. I will say this to you. It is the Ministry of Serendipity that controls the waging of the war against Germany. When Mr McMurdo sneezes, Winston Churchill offers his handkerchief. But Rune is immune to such snifflings. Rune is above and beyond. Now pacy-pacy and follow me. The squamulose square-rigger squats not for squaw-man, squash nor squirrel-fish. Especially not for the latter!’
    ‘There is no doubting that,’ I said and I followed Mr Rune.
    We passed by the ticket window and entered the lift.
    It was a Magnathy and Pericule front-lattice cage-lift, with brass quadroon-filibasters and wibbly-wobbly faybill tremblers. Rather posh by anyone’s standards.
    Mr Rune did not press a floor button; rather he fished into his tweedy waistcoat and drew out a key that was affixed to his watch fob by a golden chain. He flipped aside one of the floor buttons, inserted the key and gave it a little twist.
    ‘Hold on tightly,’ said Hugo Rune.
    ‘Hold on tightly? Why?’
    But that was altogether a foolish question upon my part, as the lift now gathered speed and plunged in the downwards direction.
    I went, ‘Ooooh!’ as my ears went ‘pop’ and