walked quickly round, turned about a yard in front of the chair. She hesitated, and then finally she opened her eyes and looked down at the body of Ramone MacGregor.
––––––––
0859hrs
B arney Thomson trudged along the road, hands thrust deep in his pockets, head bowed to the grey morning drizzle. Igor walked beside him, Donkey to Barney's Shrek. They were on their way for their first meeting with the Prime Minister. No big deal. Politically perhaps he was the most important person Barney had ever met, but that was like saying that someone was the most important maker of jelly that he'd ever met. Who cared?
Barney turned his head sharply at the sound of a scream, a distant sound, yet one so full of terror and fear, so piercing and ominous and loud, he stared up the length of the street for half a minute, as the noise from almost two blocks away filled the dull morning air. Igor gazed at him quizzically, following his look. He heard nothing, yet he felt the sense of fear and horror and dread. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the terrible noise abruptly ended, and the city seemed to return to normal. The cars, the motorbikes, the chatter of pedestrians. Barney stood still for another few minutes, his head slightly cocked to the side, listening, as if he expected something else to happen. Yet London was as it is, and by the time he looked at his watch and realised that he was going to be late for his first meeting with the Prime Minister, he had trouble remembering exactly what had been so blood-curdling about the scream in the first place, and whether or not that was what he'd actually heard.
'We should get going,' said Barney.
'Arf,' said Igor.
And with that, Barney Thomson, barber, and Igor, barber's assistant, turned and walked on through the crowd, Igor clutching his broom as they went.
––––––––
0923hrs
B arney snipped away at the very ends of the hair. Nothing worth taking off. He could've got his razor out and scalped the man, but that hadn't been asked for. It was more of a styling job, which to be honest, wasn't entirely his thing, but he wasn't going to come all this way, to be in the employment of one of the country's top 10,000 most important people, not to do what he was told.
They were in the Prime Minister's bathroom, a small affair just off the main office. It had been redecorated under Major, an expensive job given out to the highest bidder, and was consequently still in excellent condition. Williams and Thackeray, the eternal duo, stood at the back, hoping to engage the PM during the course of the cut; however he was off on another of his tangents. Igor also lurked at the back, a slightly uncomfortable presence for the others, waiting with his broom for a bit of mess to clear up.
'I know all about you,' said the PM, catching Barney's eye in the mirror.
Barney nodded.
'I know all about you too,' he replied. Didn't everybody?
The PM smiled. Always nice to have that kind of acknowledgement.
'I feel like I have the hand of history on my head,' said the PM.
'You sound like an idiot,' said Barney. Actually, he never said that one, he just thought it. Didn't quite yet have the measure of the man enough to know whether he could get away with that sort of comment. This was the man, after all, who dropped bombs on innocent civilians at the drop of an American hat.
'You have lived through the most extraordinary of times,' said the PM, making Barney sound like he was in his early hundreds and could remember the Boer War.
Barney snipped at a rogue lengthy hair, which Ramone must have missed before his unfortunate end, then continued on his more mundane way around the back of the head. There was a sound at the door, and Janine the secretary appeared, looking very pale, to whisper something in Williams' ear. Williams listened, swallowed, nodded and ushered her away from the bathroom. The PM had witnessed the short scene in the mirror and raised his eyebrows at Williams.
––––––––
0859hrs
B arney Thomson trudged along the road, hands thrust deep in his pockets, head bowed to the grey morning drizzle. Igor walked beside him, Donkey to Barney's Shrek. They were on their way for their first meeting with the Prime Minister. No big deal. Politically perhaps he was the most important person Barney had ever met, but that was like saying that someone was the most important maker of jelly that he'd ever met. Who cared?
Barney turned his head sharply at the sound of a scream, a distant sound, yet one so full of terror and fear, so piercing and ominous and loud, he stared up the length of the street for half a minute, as the noise from almost two blocks away filled the dull morning air. Igor gazed at him quizzically, following his look. He heard nothing, yet he felt the sense of fear and horror and dread. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the terrible noise abruptly ended, and the city seemed to return to normal. The cars, the motorbikes, the chatter of pedestrians. Barney stood still for another few minutes, his head slightly cocked to the side, listening, as if he expected something else to happen. Yet London was as it is, and by the time he looked at his watch and realised that he was going to be late for his first meeting with the Prime Minister, he had trouble remembering exactly what had been so blood-curdling about the scream in the first place, and whether or not that was what he'd actually heard.
'We should get going,' said Barney.
'Arf,' said Igor.
And with that, Barney Thomson, barber, and Igor, barber's assistant, turned and walked on through the crowd, Igor clutching his broom as they went.
––––––––
0923hrs
B arney snipped away at the very ends of the hair. Nothing worth taking off. He could've got his razor out and scalped the man, but that hadn't been asked for. It was more of a styling job, which to be honest, wasn't entirely his thing, but he wasn't going to come all this way, to be in the employment of one of the country's top 10,000 most important people, not to do what he was told.
They were in the Prime Minister's bathroom, a small affair just off the main office. It had been redecorated under Major, an expensive job given out to the highest bidder, and was consequently still in excellent condition. Williams and Thackeray, the eternal duo, stood at the back, hoping to engage the PM during the course of the cut; however he was off on another of his tangents. Igor also lurked at the back, a slightly uncomfortable presence for the others, waiting with his broom for a bit of mess to clear up.
'I know all about you,' said the PM, catching Barney's eye in the mirror.
Barney nodded.
'I know all about you too,' he replied. Didn't everybody?
The PM smiled. Always nice to have that kind of acknowledgement.
'I feel like I have the hand of history on my head,' said the PM.
'You sound like an idiot,' said Barney. Actually, he never said that one, he just thought it. Didn't quite yet have the measure of the man enough to know whether he could get away with that sort of comment. This was the man, after all, who dropped bombs on innocent civilians at the drop of an American hat.
'You have lived through the most extraordinary of times,' said the PM, making Barney sound like he was in his early hundreds and could remember the Boer War.
Barney snipped at a rogue lengthy hair, which Ramone must have missed before his unfortunate end, then continued on his more mundane way around the back of the head. There was a sound at the door, and Janine the secretary appeared, looking very pale, to whisper something in Williams' ear. Williams listened, swallowed, nodded and ushered her away from the bathroom. The PM had witnessed the short scene in the mirror and raised his eyebrows at Williams.