The Executioner's Heart

CHAPTER 16

Bainbridge had a concerned look etched on his face. In fact, thought Veronica, he was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“What is it, Charles?” said Newbury quietly, so as not to draw attention to their small group as they stood on the sidelines of the search lamp exhibit, watchful for the arrival of Professor Angelchrist.

“It’s just … these faces, Newbury,” he replied, quietly. “There are men in the crowd that I recognise.”

“How so?” asked Newbury.

Bainbridge frowned, but didn’t answer.

“From the Yard?” said Veronica.

“No. They’re Service men. Archibald’s men,” he replied, after a moment, as if lost in thought.

“You mean to say that we’re presently surrounded by agents of the Secret Service?” said Newbury. His expression was a little strained, and Veronica wondered again what was going through his head. Was he having second thoughts? Doubts about Angelchrist’s motives?

Bainbridge nodded slightly. “In a manner of speaking,” he replied, glancing from side to side. “Yes. I’d say we’re pretty much surrounded.”

Veronica swallowed. “A trap? Is that why Angelchrist picked this place?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Bainbridge, a bit too hastily. He shook his head, adjusted his tone. “That’s not it at all. There must be something else going on here. Something that we’re not aware of.”

“Well, it’s hardly surreptitious,” said Veronica. She glanced round, searching the faces in the crowd. She couldn’t help imagining that any one of them might be watching her with malicious intent.

Directly behind them was the giant bird exhibit. To the left was a singing and dancing automaton of a woman, clothed in a fine red dress, its hips swaying provocatively as it mimed to the recording of an opera singer. To the right, a skeleton that looked like it came from a prehistoric giant was mounted on a large stone plinth, the fossilised bones dark and roughly hewn from the bedrock. It towered above the people below, posed as if reaching out a hand in supplication. Each of the exhibits were surrounded by thronging masses of people. Any or all of them might have been Secret Service agents, as far as Veronica knew.

“How many?” asked Newbury.

“At least a dozen,” said Bainbridge. “There may be more that I’m unaware of, but that’s half the men we have in London, concentrated around this exhibit.”

“Concentrated around the exhibit where Professor Angelchrist suggested we meet,” said Veronica, sceptically.

“Something’s certainly going on,” continued Bainbridge, ignoring her remark. “An operation, perhaps.”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” said Newbury. “This has to have something to do with that ‘misunderstanding’ Archibald referred to.”

“Look, here he comes,” said Bainbridge, visibly relaxing now that he’d caught sight of the professor. “I’m sure he’ll set everything straight.”

“Remember, Charles,” said Newbury, a note of caution in his voice, “we must be careful here. If it gets back to the Queen that we’re having this meeting at all…”

“I know, I know,” said Bainbridge, irritably. “Although I fear it may already be a little late for that, given that we’re presently surrounded by Archibald’s associates.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, we mustn’t simply throw caution to the wind. Just keep in mind that, as far as any onlookers are concerned, we’re here to take in the exhibits. Any conversation we have with Archibald must be conducted with the utmost care,” said Newbury, firmly.

Bainbridge nodded.

The professor continued to circle around the perimeter of the exhibit, giving the lamp what appeared to be an appraising look. He was smartly dressed in a brown tweed suit, white shirt, and black cravat, and carried a smouldering briar pipe in his left hand. He was wearing an expression of devout concentration as he slowly edged through the crowd, finally coming to stand beside Newbury a few moments later. He placed the pipe in the corner of his mouth and folded his arms over his chest.

“There’s a lot of fuss being made over such an unobtrusive little object,” he said, turning to meet Veronica’s eye and smiling. “Good afternoon, Miss Hobbes.”

“Good afternoon, Professor,” she said. He offered her an impish grin. Once again, now that she was faced with the man, she felt herself warming to him. He was nothing if not charming, and she could see why Newbury and Bainbridge had been taken in by those charms. But the fact remained: They were currently encircled by a team of agents at least four times their number, possibly more. She couldn’t help but feel as if she’d been lured into a trap.

“Gentlemen,” said Angelchrist, acknowledging the others.

“A lot of fuss?” asked Newbury.

“Indeed,” said Angelchrist. “I’ll come to that in a moment. We don’t have a great deal of time, however, so I think it’s best we get straight to the heart of the matter. I had the gist of it from Clarkson, of course. I gather Her Majesty has rather taken against our little operation.”

“To put it somewhat mildly,” said Bainbridge. “She’s accused the Service of being behind the recent spate of killings, the victims of which, it transpires, all happen to be agents affiliated with the Crown. It’s preposterous.”

Angelchrist smiled. “I can’t blame her, Sir Charles. Of course, she’s quite wrong. I’m as baffled about these deaths as you are. But it doesn’t surprise me that she feels threatened by the growing strength of the Service, however noble our motives.”

“We’ll have to tread carefully from now on, Archibald,” said Bainbridge, quietly. “She’s ordered us to sever all links with you and your men.”

Angelchrist nodded. His face looked a little drawn and tired. “So be it,” he said, levelly, giving away very little.

“We do, however, have another possible lead in our investigation,” said Newbury. “I understand from the Prince of Wales that there are foreign agents abroad in London, and in particular agents of the Kaiser, here with the express intent of undermining the Queen’s position. It seems likely that they may be responsible for targeting the Crown agents in an effort to further such aims. Charles thought you may be able to shed further light on the subject.…”

“Indeed I can, Sir Maurice, but I fear it may not be the answer you’re looking for.” He glanced at Bainbridge. “I imagine you’ve noticed we have company?”

“If you mean that the place is swarming with Service men, then yes,” said Bainbridge. “I had rather noticed the fact.”

Angelchrist nodded. Again, he met Veronica’s eye, as if reading her mind, knowing that his explanation was needed more for her benefit than the others’; that he still had work to do to convince her of his trustworthiness. “You’re right about the Germans, in that they do have agents here in London. Their motives, however, are somewhat different from what you’ve imagined.”

“Go on,” said Veronica, drawn in to his explanation despite herself.

“The Kaiser fears his grandmother has designs on his throne. It’s clear that the Queen wishes to extend the reach of the Empire, but Wilhelm refuses to bend to her will. As a result, the Queen is furious with him, and he’s now attempting to arm himself in preparation for her reprisal.” Angelchrist glanced back at the search lamp. “Our investigations have suggested that the Kaiser’s agents will make an attempt to seize this experimental search lamp today. As you can see, it’s designed to be mounted beneath the gondola of an airship, so that the column of light might shine down upon the landscape or city streets below. However, a German hermetist, Gruder, has posited a theory that such a lamp could be focused through a narrow lens, intensifying the beam and turning it into a formidable weapon.”

“A focused beam of light and heat,” said Newbury, astounded. “The devastation they could wreak from the skies … They could set the entirety of London aflame.”

“Quite so,” said Angelchrist, lowering his voice. “Which is why we’re now surrounded by as many service men and women as I could muster. The creator and his plans have already been secured. We cannot allow them to get away with this prototype.”

“But why not simply remove the prototype?” asked Veronica. “Why leave it here in an exhibition hall full of people, at risk?”

“A trap,” replied Angelchrist. “An opportunity to send a message to the Kaiser, to put an end to the schemes of his agents here in London, at least for a while. If we can draw out his agents, expose them, perhaps even capture and interrogate some of them-well, then it will be worth the risk.”

“Even if innocent people are harmed in the cross fire?” asked Veronica, feeling her impatience swelling.

Angelchrist sighed. “We all have to make difficult decisions, Miss Hobbes. Surely you know that more than most.”

Veronica stiffened. What was he getting at? Did he know something about her, about the choices she had been forced to make?

“One thing I am sure of, however,” Angelchrist continued, “is that the Kaiser’s men are not responsible for the murders of the Queen’s agents. They’ve been single-minded as they’ve planned the execution of their mission. We were able to plant a double agent amongst their ranks, and he has given every indication that they are not even aware of the identity of the Queen’s agents, let alone harbouring any desire to murder them and abscond with their hearts. The Kaiser is not, contrary to the beliefs of some of the Court, spoiling for a war. He is simply working to raise his defences, should Her Majesty grow tired of his rebuttals and decide to put matters into the hands of the military. The theft of an experimental electric lamp would not be looked on kindly. The murder of the Queen’s prized agents would be quite another thing, tantamount to a declaration of war.”

“So you’ve lured us here under false pretences?” said Veronica, stiffly. “You’ve dragged us unwittingly into the middle of an operation.”

“Not at all,” said Angelchrist, his tone conciliatory. “Clarkson said you needed to understand what the Germans were planning.” He shrugged. “Since we couldn’t meet openly as once we might have, this seemed as good a way as any to demonstrate the veracity of my words. I wanted to demonstrate to both you and Sir Maurice the value of the Service, and to clear up any little misunderstandings regarding its motives.” He glanced from Newbury to Bainbridge. “And yes, I suppose I am guilty of wishing to have my friends by my side as we charge headlong into battle.”

Bainbridge nodded. He glanced at Veronica, and then back at Angelchrist. “You have my support, Archibald. And thank you. Although it damn well sets us back to the start. We’re no further towards discovering who’s responsible for these murders than when we found the first corpse.”

Newbury clapped Bainbridge on the shoulder. “It’s only a matter of time, Charles. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Veronica suppressed her frustration. She decided, for the others’ sake, that she would allow events to play out as intended. “So what next?” she asked Angelchrist, moderating her tone. “Do you know what the German agents are planning?”

Angelchrist smiled appreciatively. “There is soon to be a changeover of personnel,” he said, indicating the man in overalls operating the lamp, swinging it back and forth on its pivot to the appreciative murmurs of the audience. “The German agents have inveigled their way onto the exhibition staff. Once the changeover has occurred and a new operator has arrived, he’ll declare the lamp to be faulty and in need of repair. A crew of engineers will move in and begin dismantling the housing. We’ll step in at that point and apprehend the lot of them before they can get away, preferably with minimum disruption to the exhibition.” He glanced down at his pocket watch, which he’d extracted from his jacket whilst he talked. The long, golden chain pooled in his palm as he studied the timepiece. “In fact, the changeover is due to occur at any moment.”

“Forgive me, Archibald, but it sounds rather optimistic to imagine the German agents are simply going to roll over and give themselves up without a fight,” said Newbury, frowning.

“We’re ready for any eventuality,” said Angelchrist, patting his jacket pocket pointedly. Veronica could see from the bulk of it that he was carrying a pistol. She felt a cold sensation spreading throughout her stomach, something akin to dread. She feared this operation was not going to end well. As soon as they started shooting at one another, things would degenerate. Innocent people were going to end up dead.

She glanced round at the other faces in the audience, but she couldn’t tell which of them were Service men, or which might be German agents incognito, waiting for the signal to strike. She felt helpless, impotent.

Newbury gave her a gentle nudge to get her attention. When she looked round, he nodded in the direction of the lamp.

The man in overalls was glowering at his watch, clearly frustrated by the late arrival of his replacement. He sighed visibly, then circled the lamp on its pedestal one last time. Then, as if tired of waiting, he allowed the lamp to swing about in its housing, the beam stuttering briefly and then shutting off. “There will be another demonstration in a short while,” he announced to the gathered onlookers, before turning and excusing himself as he pushed through the sea of people. Within a few moments he’d been swallowed entirely by the crowd, disappearing as he waded off into the depths of the exhibition hall.

The gathered audience began to drift slowly away, other nearby exhibits catching their attentions. Veronica was grateful for that, at least-it might mean there was less chance of them being swept up in the coming altercation.

She glanced at Angelchrist, who was looking on intently, his foot tapping nervously as he waited. She felt Newbury’s grip on her elbow and allowed herself to be drawn away from the search lamp.

“I thought it best if we removed ourselves from the immediate vicinity,” said Newbury, quietly, in her ear. “We can always intervene if the situation demands it.”

Veronica nodded. She could feel his warm breath against the back of her neck as he leaned in. They were standing in the shadow of the giant bird enclosure, and just to her left she could sense the creatures eyeing her through the glass wall. She looked round to see one of them pawing at the ground with its talons, raking furrows into the heaped sand. It was as if the beast could sense the heightened tension in the vicinity and was responding in kind, ready to unleash all of its pent up energy and frustration. It saw her looking at it and stalked forward, craning its neck inquisitively to look her in the eye.

Veronica gave thanks for the plate glass that separated them. The creature, only a few feet away, was one of the most terrifying beasts she had ever seen, and as it bobbed its head, tracking her every movement, she felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck.

It opened its jaws and she saw a splash of goat’s blood make its way down its wriggling tongue and drip from the corner of its beak. She shuddered as she imagined what that beak could do to a human being if it were ever given the chance.

Thankfully, the beast appeared to give up on her then, turning to join its kin on the other side of the enclosure. Then, almost without warning, the bird twisted and lashed out, striking the glass pane violently with its beak. The panel shook in its frame but held.

Veronica started, but was reassured by Newbury’s grip on her arm. “Brutish creatures, aren’t they?” he said. She could tell from the timbre of his voice that he, too, was startled by the bird’s sudden attempt to break free.

“It’s more than that,” she said, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. “It’s the look in their eyes, too. They seem to understand what’s going on. It’s almost as if they’re taunting us.”

“They certainly seem to have a keen intelligence,” said Newbury. “I imagine it makes them formidable predators. They probably hunt in packs.”

“I shouldn’t like to find out,” said Veronica, flatly. “I’d rather they’d left them in the Congo, where they belong.”

“Hmmm,” said Newbury. She didn’t know whether that meant mild disagreement, or simply that he was distracted by what was occurring beside the search lamp.

The crowds had thinned to almost nothing now that there was little to see, which afforded her a good view of proceedings. Angelchrist and Bainbridge stood shoulder to shoulder, looking on while the replacement operator-a swarthy-looking chap, dressed in similar overalls to his predecessor-fiddled and toyed with the controls of the lamp, feigning frustration as he tried to get them to work.

It was almost as if Angelchrist had choreographed it: Within moments the man had thrown up his hands in despair, signalling to others elsewhere in the crowd, who swarmed in a few seconds later to form a small circle around the exhibit. There must have been ten of them, at least, each dressed in matching overalls. They exchanged a few words, then began drawing tools out of leather pouches attached to their belts. A moment later they were busily at work loosening bolts to strip the lamp from its housing.

Newbury took a step forward. “What is he waiting for?” he hissed in frustration. “They’ll be away with it in a moment if he doesn’t hurry.”

Veronica searched the crowd for any signs of the Service men. Where were they?

The birds had begun to rap insistently on the glass barrier beside her again. She turned to glower at them. Her head snapped back round, however, at the report of a pistol being fired from somewhere close by.

She caught a glimpse of one of the German agents folding in half and collapsing to the floor, then she was being jostled as confused people pushed past her as they fled the scene.

More pistols fired. Suddenly, everyone was screaming. Throughout the exhibition hall, the crowds erupted into a boiling mass of torsos and limbs as people fled, pushing and shoving, sweeping up their children, shouldering each other out of the way as they rushed for the exit.

Newbury grabbed Veronica’s hand and dragged her towards where Bainbridge and Angelchrist were taking cover close to the fossilised giant. The battle between the Service men and the German agents had swiftly descended into a firefight, and she watched in horror as a young man no more than three feet from where she was standing took a bullet in the face, blood erupting from the back of his skull in a fine, billowing mist. His body jerked in shock and slumped to the ground, sending his weapon skittering across the tiles.

She heard the crack of broken glass from over her shoulder, and looked back to see the panel on the side of the giant bird enclosure splinter around an impact crater caused by a stray shot. The birds squawked and stamped their feet, raising their beaks to the sky and hissing.

“Get down!” cried Newbury, pushing her to the floor as the firefight intensified around them. She saw another of the German agents slump to the ground beside the search lamp. Around him his cohorts were attempting to retreat, returning fire with wild abandon as they fought for their lives. Bullets pinged off the nearby exhibits, ricocheting into the screaming crowd.

Veronica heard the rapping of the birds again, striking the glass with their beaks. She was about to dismiss it as an unnecessary distraction when she heard the glass begin to fracture beneath their ministrations. She twisted around, glancing back in time to see the entire panel shatter in a shower of glittering fragments. The impact of the bullet had clearly weakened the integrity of the panel, and the birds had taken advantage of this opportunity, exploiting the damaged pane. She watched, dumbstruck, as the first of the beasts burst through the makeshift opening, thundering out into the hall and scattering broken glass. It raised its head to the sky and bellowed in triumph before lurching towards the nearest group of fleeing civilians and snapping at them with its powerful jaws.

They scattered, screaming, as they saw it coming, but the creature moved with surprising speed and grace for its size. Its razor-sharp beak closed on the head of a middle-aged man, ripping it clean off in one sudden motion and tossing the body aside with the momentum. Blood sprayed in a wide arc, coating everything in the vicinity, and the bird, emitting a deep gurgling from its throat, thrust its crown back and swallowed the man’s head with a single gulp. Unsatiated, it darted forward, searching for another victim.

Veronica realised that, to the creature, the screaming crowds of people must have looked like a scattering herd of cattle or gazelles. Prey.

“We must stop them!” she shouted to Newbury, who was prone on the floor beside her, his hat long since lost and trampled, his hair mussed, his suit crumpled and out of sorts.

He gave her a pleading look, as if to say Must we? but then, with a single nod of agreement, he climbed to his feet, helping her up beside him. The shooting was now confined to the area immediately around them. With a quick glance to ensure that Bainbridge and Angelchrist had not been harmed, Veronica turned, steeled herself, and then rushed directly into the path of the second bird, which was just emerging from the break in the barrier.

She waved her arms frantically to catch the beast’s attention. It hissed menacingly and pushed itself out through the ragged hole in the glass, shedding vibrantly coloured feathers as they scraped upon the jagged edges.

Veronica, still waving, inched backwards, leading the bird slowly away from the stream of people on the other side of the enclosure.

The beast tracked her movements, its beady eyes intent, narrowed. It opened its immense jaws and screeched at her, a piercing, guttural croak that left her ears ringing and her heart hammering in her breast.

She felt the wash of its warm breath and balked at the ripe stink of rancid meat, gagging back the bile she felt rising in the back of her throat. This close, she could see the creature’s downy feathers were spattered with faeces and spilt blood; viscera, she presumed, from the butchered goat. She swallowed, trying to anticipate its next move.

The bird seemed larger and more terrifying now that there was no glass partition between them, and she fought to suppress the feeling of creeping dread that threatened to overwhelm her. She had no weapon, no way of defending herself if the beast decided to launch an attack. Which, judging by the gleam in its eye and its threatening posture, was a distinct possibility.

Veronica stepped to the left and the bird mirrored her movement, its head dipping. Its splayed talons scratched nervously at the ground and its wings beat furiously. It issued a low, sinister hissing sound. She shifted right and it followed her precisely, as if entranced, never taking its eyes from her. She stepped back and it stepped forward, keeping time, still taut and poised for a sudden strike. As soon as she turned to run it would be upon her, its deadly beak snapping at her, threatening to rip her apart.

She’d lost track of Newbury and she dared not turn around to look for him. Any sudden movement, any attempt to take her eyes off the monster would provide it with the opportunity to attack. She could show no hesitation.

To her left, the crowds were thinning as the civilians bolted for the exit, pursued by the other, squawking bird. She’d managed to distract one, at least, preventing it from feasting on the mass of innocent people, but she had no idea what to do next. She cursed herself for not thinking through her actions. Distracting the creature was one thing; getting herself clear was quite another.

Veronica took another step back, watching the bird creep forward in time with her movements.

“Maurice?” she called, her voice wavering. She didn’t take her eyes off the creature in front of her as she spoke.

“Over here!” he called. “Lure it over here!”

She didn’t look round, but followed his voice, slowly walking backwards towards where she thought he was. “What are you going to do?” she called, twitching as the bird tentatively snapped its jaws, cleaving the air only inches from her face. As she quickened her pace, still walking backwards, she could tell it was growing nervous, weighing the right time to strike.

The percussive bang of a pistol firing just over her shoulder caused her to start, stumbling backwards. Her feet lost their traction on the tiles and she fell. She thrust out her hands to break her fall, and twisted as she dropped, but still struck the ground hard, catching her chin on her forearm. She called out in shock and pain and rolled, groaning, only to see the beast still looming over her. It was bleeding from a bullet wound in its face, shaking its head in frustration.

She risked a glance round to see Newbury standing a few feet away, his legs planted firm, his arms outstretched and clutching a pistol. He squeezed the trigger again, and then again, emptying the chamber. The bird bucked and screamed as the bullets ripped into its torso, but still it did not stop.

“Veronica! Get out of the way!” he bellowed, but it was too late. She had nowhere to go, no time left in which to run. The massive bird screeched and thrust its beak at her, and she was forced to roll urgently to the left to avoid being impaled.

The beak smashed into the tiles with a force that she felt reverberating in her bones, and the bird reared up, hissing, readying itself for another strike.

Veronica screamed, this time rolling to the right as the beak descended once again, crashing down only inches from her cheek, so that the back of her head bounced painfully against the tiles. She screamed again. Her head was swimming.

Almost as if in slow motion, she saw the monster pull back then whip its neck forward again, its jaws yawning open in readiness.

This is it, she thought as she cried out in terror, her throat raw from screaming. This is how I die.

The jaws descended … and then the creature emitted a strangled cry and reared back, swinging its head from side to side in confusion. For a moment Veronica had no idea what was happening. It was as if she were being assaulted by a random sequence of images, none of them quite making any sense: the writhing beast, a flashing light, the shadow of her own hand over her face. She could hear nothing but the roar of blood in her ears, drowning out everything else. She breathed and exhaled; blinked.

And then reality rushed in again, and everything snapped into focus. The lamp!

She pulled herself up onto her hands and knees. The bird was still thrashing back and forth, stumbling as it tried to get away from the light. She glanced at Newbury, who was clinging to the search lamp amongst a heap of dead German agents, swinging it around so that the brilliant beam flickered in the beast’s eyes, dazzling it.

“Quickly!” bellowed Newbury.

“Quickly what?” she cried.

“Kill it!” he returned, exasperated.

Veronica stared at the creature for a moment. With what? She glanced around her in desperation. Nearby, the corpse of a dead Service man lay crumpled, face down. Blood streamed from a wound in his head, pooling on the tiles around him. His hands were splayed to either side of him, and in his right he still clutched the pistol he’d been firing before he took a bullet of his own.

She ran to his side, dropping to her knees and fumbling for the gun. The dead man’s fingers were still warm, and his grip on the weapon’s handle was still firm. She tried yanking the gun free, but his hold remained steadfast.

“Hurry!” called Newbury.

She looked round. The bird was staggering in her direction, bobbing and ducking its head. It had realised that it took some time to swivel the lamp around in its housing, and was moving quickly, attempting to stay out of the path of the dazzling beam.

Veronica grunted as she tried desperately to prise the weapon free. She heard the thud of the bird’s footsteps from behind her, felt its presence over her shoulder, the intake of air as it drew breath to screech. The gun came free in her hands and she twisted. Just as the beast opened its chasm-like jaws, she raised the pistol and fired directly into its mouth.

The bird emitted an agonised wail and took a step back, and Veronica climbed hesitantly to her feet. The creature’s mouth was still hanging open, the jaws working slightly, as if unable to close.

She raised her arms and squeezed the trigger again, and then again, loosing shots into the bird’s mouth, blowing holes in the back of its throat, the top of its skull. The creature took one final step backwards, and then, with a deep exhalation, crumpled unceremoniously to the floor.

Veronica allowed the pistol to slide out of her grip, clattering noisily upon the tiles.

She heard Newbury’s footsteps as he abandoned the lamp and came rushing to her side. “Are you hurt?” he asked, urgent, breathless.

“I’m fine,” she said. She glanced around, looking for the others. The entire scene was one of carnage. Bodies were strewn across the ground, scattered around the nearby exhibits. Most of them were dressed in overalls or black suits; agents. At least those men had known what they were getting into. The same could not be said of the civilians who had perished in the botched operation. She cursed Angelchrist for the irresponsible way he had handled the matter. Questions would undoubtedly be asked.

Now, however, neither Bainbridge nor the professor were anywhere to be seen.

She was about to ask Newbury if he knew what had become of them when she saw the look on his face. She followed his gaze. Across the nearly empty exhibition hall, the second bird was still rampaging, snapping indiscriminately at the few remaining people who were trying desperately to find their way to the exit.

Her shoulders dropped. “Again?” she said, with a sigh.

Newbury shrugged. He held up another pistol, which he must have taken from one of the dead German agents. “We can’t allow it to get out into the park,” he said. “Think of the havoc it would wreak.”

She nodded, stooping to reclaim the still-smoking pistol she had dropped. “Very well,” she said, with a sigh. “But next time you ask me to accompany you to one of these damnable exhibitions, you can jolly well take it as read that my answer is no.”

Newbury chuckled loudly as they set off together in pursuit of the second beast.