Read Online Retromancer by Robert Rankin - Free Book Online Page B

called out to me. ‘And what about you, McMurdo?’
    The little man huffed and puffed in fury and grew most red in the face.
    ‘Oh, come come,’ said Mr Rune. ‘The sun is over the yardarm and the cabin boys are restless. A drink will calm those nerves of yours. Would you care for a short?’
    ‘A short?’ The little man, now purple in the face, jumped up and down. ‘I blame you for this,’ he cried.
    ‘For what?’ asked Hugo Rune.
    ‘For what? For what?’ The small man all but fainted dead away.
    Hugo Rune smiled and passed me a G & T. And then he took himself over to one of several comfy-looking chairs which had much of the quilted tramp steamer about them and settled himself into it.
    The tiny man threw up his hands, stalked to the cocktail cabinet, swarmed up it in an appropriately sailor-up-the-rigging manner and struggled with a whisky bottle all but as tall as himself.
    I just stood and sipped at my drink. I did not know what to say.
    ‘Formal introductions are in order,’ said Mr Hugo Rune. ‘Norris McMurdo, High Honcho to the Ministry of Serendipity, be upstanding for Rizla, my trusted acolyte, assistant and amanuensis. I can personally vouch for his honesty, dedication and loyalty to King and country. All that you might say to me, you might say to him.’
    ‘Pleased to meet you, Mr McMurdo,’ I managed to say. ‘Could I give you a hand with that bottle?’
    ‘I can manage. I can manage.’ And the diddy fellow wrestled with the bottle cap.
    ‘You are probably wondering something, aren’t you, Rizla?’ asked Mr Rune.
    ‘Wondering something? Me?’ I did toothy grinnings. Clearly the relationship between Mr Rune and Mr McMurdo was not one of mutual support and admiration. And this man, diminutive as he was, was apparently one of the most powerful men in the world. So I really did not want to get on his wrong side by asking embarrassing questions regarding his height.
    ‘I am surprised,’ said Hugo Rune. ‘I thought you might have some questions regarding short-arse here.’
    ‘What did you say?’ shrieked Mr McMurdo, giving up the unequal battle against the whisky-bottle top. ‘What did you call me, you rotter?’
    ‘I asked my companion whether he might have some questions regarding the shot-glass here,’ said Mr Rune, and he raised his glass to his foreshortened employer. And toasted him with it.
    ‘I know what you said… you… you-’
    ‘Come come,’ said Mr Rune. ‘Enough of this, please. I am doing everything I can to rectify the situation. Why, only this morning when you telephoned, I was in the middle of subtle chemical experimentation seeking to formulate a restorative to return you to your former dimensions.’
    ‘Another restorative, is it?’ Mr McMurdo did a kind of manic dance upon the cocktail cabinet that sent glasses tumbling and cocktail stirrers tinkling to the carpet. ‘Of the nature of the one you formulated for me last week that had me rushing to the toilet all night long?’
    Last week? I thought to myself. Had Mr Rune been here in this time, last week, which was to say-But I soon gave it up as far too confusing and supped at my gin instead. And very nice gin it was too.
    ‘We will speak further of these matters anon,’ said Mr Rune. ‘But for now there are more pressing causes for concern – the disappearance of Professor James Stigmata Campbell, for one. What have you to tell me of this?’
    ‘I’m telling you to find him!’ Mr McMurdo ceased his dance and knotted his doll-like fists. ‘And find him today. He must deliver his paper tonight. Our future depends on it.’
    ‘Our future?’ And Mr Rune nodded at me.
    And I nodded back to him.
    ‘Tell me then,’ said he to Mr McMurdo, ‘all that you are authorised to tell me. Omit nothing. Speak your piece. And kindly couch your words in such a manner that they might be understood by my acolyte here. His help in solving this case, and indeed finding a solution to the curse that presently afflicts