Part 16 (2/2)

'And it scares the s.h.i.+t out of me,' said Tuppe. 'Am I really that small?'

'You're as big as you feel,' said Cornelius. 'How do you feel, by the way?'

'About ready for the main course now.'

'Well,' Cornelius put down the Tuppe. 'Thank you for showing it to us, Mr Rune.'

'Forget the Mr Rune, my boy. You may call me-'

'Daddy?'

'No, it's still guru,' said Hugo Rune. 'And so you see the beauty of my plan.'

'What plan is this?' Cornelius looked baffled. 'My plan to bring down the denizens of the ForbiddenZones.'

'Ah, that plan.' Cornelius nodded gently. He felt sure that he was much taller than Hugo Rune. But somehow he always seemed to be looking up at him.

'Let us discuss it over the main course,' said Rune. 'Come on, Shorty.'

'Please do not call my friend Shorty,' said Corne-lius.

'I wasn't talking to your friend,' said Hugo Rune. 'I was talking to you.'

Inspectre Hovis returned to the Portakabin. Polly recognized his distinctive door-slamming and didn't look up from her work.

'Would you like me to put the kettle on again?' she asked.

Hovis did not reply.

'I located that file you wanted. It is a big fat one.' Polly rose to hand it over. And found herself staring into a face which seemed to have aged by at least ten years in less than half an hour.

'Sit down.' Polly reached forward and took Hovis by the arm. 'You look dreadful. It's probably a reaction to that Thames water. Sit down and I'll call for a doctor.'

Hovis allowed himself to be helped into the Porta-kabin's only chair. It occurred to him, as Polly fussed about, that he could not recall when he last felt a woman's touch upon him.

A dismal groan escaped from his lips.

'Just take it easy,' said Polly. 'I'll get help.'

'I don't need any help,' the Inspectre told her. 'There is nothing physically wrong with me. It is just that I have received some tragic news.

'Not a death in your family?'

'No. I said tragic news.'

'You had best take the rest of the day off, Polly. Or the week, if you please. You must find yourself another position. I will furnish you with superb references.'

'You're sacking me? What have I done?'

'Not I,' Hovis crossed his heart. 'Brian ”the b.a.s.t.a.r.d” Lytton. He has cut me back. I am redundant.'

'He can't do that,' Polly protested. 'I've read up on your cases. You've solved more crimes than anyone else in the history of the force.'

'I am touched that you should show such an interest,' said Hovis, who truly was.

'But all in Brentford,' said Polly. 'How come you solved every crime in Brentford?'

Hovis hung his head.

'But he can't sack you. He just can't.'

'He can and he has. Early retirement.'

'Then we'll fight him. You must have many connections. Many friends in high places. Life has no blessing like a prudent friend. to quote from Euripides.'

'I have no friends,' said Hovis.

'What, none at all?'

'None at all. I have no connections. Everybody hates me.'

'Everybody?'

'Everybody.'

'Oh,' said Polly. 'That makes me feel a lot better. I thought it was only me. Hating you, that is.'

'It's an image thing. All we really great detectives have it. The eccentric mannerism, the funny voice, the strange moustache, the pipe, the tin leg, the penchant for tiny woodland creatures.'

'Ugh,' said Polly.

'Mine is being hated by everybody.'

'Oh, I understand. You're a sort of anti-hero.'

'No,' said Hovis. 'I'm just a nasty b.a.s.t.a.r.d.'

'You're not so bad.' Polly would have placed a consoling hand upon the immaculate, if now some-what drooping, shoulder of the great detective, had not the very thought sickened her to thestomach. 'You really aren't that bad. Really. Certainly you're arrogant, conceited, short-tempered, misogynistic, boorish and boring. No offence meant.'

'None taken, I a.s.sure you.'

'But you are a brilliant detective. And so you must not be sacked. What do you intend to do?'

'Pack up and go home, I suppose. Sell my memoirs to a Sunday tabloid. Maybe get a spot on Crimewatch.'

'But what about The Crime of the Century? This destiny you told me you had to fulfil? No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny - Homer.'

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