Read Online The Better Mousetrap by Tom Holt - Free Book Online Page B

don’t want to make a big issue out of this,’ said Mr Hook, concentrating a billion megawatts of disapproval into the pinpoint lasers of his eyes, ‘but we really can’t go on just taking stuff out of the stores without signing for it. Let’s see, now: twelve kilos of SlayMore, seven packets of detonators, nine boxes of rubber bands, three blocks of Semtex … It’s not just the materials themselves, it’s the time and effort it takes to get the books straight at the end of the month, and then of course we’ve got the licensing and the HSE inspections, and it’s getting really rather awkward trying to account for the discrepancies. It may seem like a lot of fuss to you, but it’s costing us a lot of money and causing some serious difficulties for us with the authorities, just because you can’t be bothered to fill in a few forms and write things down in the book. You do see that, don’t you?’
    That was, of course, the worst part of it. Emily could see. When she thought about it calmly, once the red mist had lifted and the urge to kill and kill and keep on killing had dissipated enough to let her brain start working again, she understood perfectly. Nobody in their right mind would slay monsters for fun; we do it for the money, and we don’t get paid unless we send out a bill. And yes, of course we have to keep the stock books and the registers straight, if we don’t want the health and safety people and the DEFRA bogies coming down on us like a ton of bricks. Hardly rocket science. It was just—
    She slammed into her office, threw her bag at the wall, crashed into her chair and did the long, silent scream. Once upon a time, she could clear her mind just by imagining Mr Hook being torn apart by goblins, but that didn’t work any more. No matter how vividly she pictured the scene, these days she tended to see the severed head’s lips move and hear the calm, sad voice saying, ‘But you know I’m right, don’t you?” And yes, he was. Right, right, right. And yes, you can’t eat unless you do the washing-up first, and her room would be so much more comfortable if she tidied it occasionally and yes, she’d be able to find things if they weren’t all piled up on the floor in a heap; and yes, they’d have been much better off if they’d hired a man to do her job, even if he’d been useless and she was the best damn dragon-slayer in London and quite possibly the whole of Europe; and yes, of course she’d do it all, every invoice and yellow slip and stationery requisition voucher, if only he’d bloody well stop telling her to—
    It’s me, isn’t it? Emily thought. I just don’t like doing as I’m told. How silly is that? And I get really angry when people don’t do what I tell them, because it’s stupid. If I say, don’t go in there, it’s dangerous, and they don’t listen and they come out covered in boils or a different species, of course I’m bloody furious, because how could anybody be so dumb? But for some reason, when it’s me—
    Deep breathing. Calm. Inner peace. And when I’ve done that, I’ll go out and kill something big and scary with enormous teeth, and that’ll make me feel better. It always does. Query: would I be able to motivate myself to do this job if I didn’t have Dave Hook? Good question. Don’t go there.
    Emily took a deep breath. It didn’t work. She took another, and six more, and one more for luck. Then she got up, dragged an armful of files out of the cabinet, dumped them on the desk and reached for her calculator.
    Sodding apportionments. Slaying monsters was zero rated, but you had to charge VAT on materials used (apart from safety equipment and books); and anything that habitually stood upright on two legs - vampires, zombies; ores, goblins and balrogs were a bit of a grey area - was classed as humanoid and didn’t count as a monster for VAT purposes, which meant it had to be charged for. Werewolves were a complete pain: generally speaking they were quadrupeds