Read Online The Yellow Glass by Claire Ingrams - Free Book Online Page B

the underside of the
band.   I’d have said it was a fraction
heavier than the norm but, apart from that, appeared to be a perfectly ordinary
gentleman’s hat for a perfectly ordinary gentleman.
    “I’d have preferred charcoal grey, personally.”
    “Apologies.   Any
ideas?”
    “At a wild guess, I’d suggest there was something in
the band.   Something flexible, like a
plastic ruler.   Will I be undercover
measuring, Tamang?”
    “You are not as wide of the mark as you might think,
Mr Upshott!”   The boy looked
delighted.   “It is, indeed, in the
hatband, but it’s no ordinary ruler.   See
. . .”   He slipped the long, rectangular
object out of one end of the leather band.  
    I put my ear to it; now that it was released, I could
detect an audible ticking coming from the thing.
    “Tell me it’s not a bomb, Tamang.   I’d really rather not have one of those wound
around my brain.”
    “It is an instrument for detecting the emission of
nuclear radiation!”   He exclaimed.
    “A Geiger counter, you mean?”
    “Not exactly.   It counts nuclear particles, but, technically, it’s more of an ion
chamber because it can measure the highest ranges of beta and gamma radiation,
which a Geiger is unable to do.   If such
levels are present when you are wearing the hat, you will be able to sense a
sharp increase in those clicks against your forehead; there will be no need to
remove the hat or to extrude the device.   What’s more, the clicking will be completely silent to those around
you.”
    “Why, thank you, Tamang.”  
    I could see that the hat might prove extremely handy and
I was just so relieved he hadn’t given me another cigarette lighter.
    “It was nothing,” he bowed his head, all modesty.   “Just, please don’t get it wet.   I’ve taken a lot of
trouble to set it correctly, you see.   Too low and no pulsing, too high and the discharges cascade.   Moisture will completely de-stabilize it and
undo all of my hard work.”
    “I promise.   Scout’s honour.”   (Not that my
time with the scout’s had been one of my finest hours.)   “No more jumping in the Thames for me.”
    “You have been jumping in the Thames?”  
    Jay Tamang adored to hear about the gung-ho aspects of
the job, buried, as he was, in the fathomless depths of HQ.
    “Mmm, but that’s another story.   Christ, is that the time?”  
    I’d glanced at my watch and discovered that it was
eleven-thirty at night.   If I was going
to redeem myself, I must get a move on.

6.   Down the Slide

 
      I found Kathleen in the garages, as I’d
thought I might.   They had some
interesting vehicles there (that I wasn’t sure she should be looking at), but
she’d managed to get the night-shift mechanic wound around her little finger,
and was being given a full-blown tour.   He’d even rustled her up a cup of tea.
    “Tristram!   Take
a look at this Aston Martin, darling.   How come you’ve never been given one of these?”
    It was a lovely, pale blue number and I had an idea
who it belonged to [13] .
    “I’d hate to think what one would have to do to earn
that, Kathleen.”
    She looked like whatever it was would be well worth
it, peering in to look at the dials and the upholstery, sighing over the car as
if it were a child.
    “It’s never out of the workshop, this one,” remarked
the mechanic.   “Who knows what ‘e finds
to do with it.”    
    “Come on Kathleen, I think I’d better get you
home.”   I turned to address the man, “Has
my wife’s car been given the thumbs up, or have you something else we could
drive?”
    “Back window’s a write-off and some damage to the
front fender.   What’s more, none of the
papers’ been signed.   This should do
you.   Over here.   Not so much to look at, but she’s a great
little mover.”
    The great little mover in question was a two-tone
Hillman Minx in shades of shrew.  
    Kathleen sighed.   “That’s a bit of a come-down.