Lost in a good book Read Free Page B

question that everyone wants to know: How did you actually get into the book of Jane Eyre in the first place?”
    “That’s easily explained,” I began. “You see, my uncle Mycroft invented a device called a Prose Portal—”
    Flanker coughed. I could sense what he was going to say and I cursed myself for being so foolish as to believe The Adrian Lush Show would be uncensored. I was SpecOps, after all.
    “Ms. Next,” began Flanker, “perhaps you don’t know it but your uncle is still the subject of a secrecy certificate dating back to 1934. It might be prudent if you didn’t mention him—or the Prose Portal.”
    The floor manager yelled, “We’ve cut!” again and Lush thought for a moment.
    “Can we talk about how Hades stole the manuscript of Martin Chuzzlewit ?”
    “Let me think,” replied Flanker, then after a tiny pause, said: “No.”
    “It’s not something we want the citizenry to think is—” said Marat so suddenly that quite a few people jumped. Up until that moment he hadn’t said a word.
    “Sorry?” asked Flanker.
    “Nothing,” said the ChronoGuard operative, who was now in his mid-sixties. “I’m just getting a touch proleptic in my old age.”
    “Can we talk about the successful return of Jane to her book?” I asked wearily.
    “I refer you to my previous answer,” growled Flanker.
    “How about the time my partner Bowden and I drove through a patch of bad time on the motorway?”
    “It’s not something we want the citizenry to think is easy,” said Marat—who was now in his early twenties—with renewed enthusiasm. “If the public think that ChronoGuard work is straightforward, confidence might well be shaken.”
    “Quite correct,” asserted Flanker.
    “Perhaps you’d like to do this interview?” I asked him.
    “Hey!” said Flanker, standing up and jabbing a finger in my direction. “There’s no need to get snippy with us, Next. You’re here to do a job in your capacity as a serving SpecOps officer. You are not here to tell the truth as you see it!”
    Lush looked uneasily at me; I raised my eyebrows and shrugged.
    “Now look here,” said Lush in a strident tone, “if I’m going to interview Ms. Next I must ask questions that the public want to hear!”
    “Oh, you can!” said Flanker agreeably. “You can ask whatever you want. Free speech is enshrined in statute, and neither SpecOps nor Goliath have any business to coerce you in any way. We are just here to observe, comment, and enlighten. ”
    Lush knew what Flanker meant and Flanker knew that Lush knew. I knew that Flanker and Lush knew it and they both knew I knew it too. Lush looked nervous and fidgeted slightly. Flanker’s assertion of Lush’s independence was anything but. A word To Network Toad from Goliath and Lush would end up presenting Sheep World on Lerwick TV, and he didn’t want that. Not one little bit.
    We fell silent for a moment as Lush and I tried to figure out a topic that was outside their broad parameters.
    “How about commenting on the ludicrously high tax on cheese?” I asked. It was a joke, but Flanker and Co. weren’t terribly expert when it came to jokes.
    “I have no objection,” murmured Flanker. “Anyone else?”
    “Not me,” said Schitt-Hawse.
    “Or me,” added Rabone.
    “ I have an objection,” said a woman who had been sitting quietly at the side of the studio. She spoke with a clipped home counties accent and was dressed in a tweed skirt, twinset and pearls.
    “Allow me to introduce myself,” she said in a loud and strident voice. “Mrs. Jolly Hilly, Governmental Representative to the Television Networks.” She took a deep breath and carried on: “The so-called ‘unfair cheese duty burden’ is a very contentious subject at present. Any reference to it might be construed as an inflammatory act.”
    “587% duty on hard cheeses and 620% on smelly?” I asked. “Cheddar Classic Gold Original at £9.32 a pound—Bodmin Molecular Unstable Brie at almost £10!