hole in the fence that I’d cut on my way in, and once again bashed it down. We scuttled through: first the boyand then myself. Keeping low, we put on some speed and made for the safety of the forest.
After five minutes of running, I was exhausted.
‘Hang on,’ I gasped. ‘Give me a moment.’
Kingdom Kum nodded and I sank back against the gnarled bark of a tree, slowing my breathing. The sweeping arc of light from the clinic silhouetted the slender trees, turning them into prison bars. I reached into my trousers and pulled out another of Whitley Bey’s little miracles–a sachet of rehydration fluid, one of several sewn into the lining below my belt.
I drank it gratefully and then turned to offer one to my companion.
Oh, how inevitable! I was alone in the forest. Kingdom Kum had charmed me, duped me, and had now made his escape.
Gunfire crackled from the distant clinic, and the blare of a klaxon made me wince. I heard shouting coming from behind me.
I decided my best course of action would be to get out of the vicinity as rapidly as my aged legs would carry me. Somewhat revitalised by the rehydration sachet, I fell into a slow jog. However, I had gone only a few hundred yards when a hulking silhouette barred the path before me. I pulled up and ducked behind the nearest tree, hoping that I’d been in time to avoid detection.
‘Alright, petal,’ said the shape. ‘Eeh, I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?’
It was Whitley Bey.
And, clamped in the crook of his immense forearm, gasping for air, struggled the elusive Kingdom Kum.
I gave a huge sigh of relief–then suddenly the forest lit up like day. There was a terrific explosion and the three of us were hurled to the ground.
.12.
THE KEYS TO THE KINGDOM
R ain was tipping down outside the long window but, in the dimness of the University, a three-barred electric fire glowed cheerfully.
Just as promised, Whitley Bey had given me my hour’s grace and then he and his men had hit the enemy headquarters with everything they had. Unfortunately, it seemed the place was booby-trapped and so, seconds after the Jung Turks had shot their way inside, the building had gone up in flames. In the chaos, the few white-coated figures who had survived the attack had managed to escape, leaving behind little evidence of their activities. At least, though, we had Kingdom Kum.
He was huddled in a thick blanket before the fire, staring into space.
Whitley Bey sat bass-ackwards in a chair, paring his nails with a brutal-looking knife and shooting resentful glares at the newcomer. I stretched out my aching legs and lit a cigarette, letting the strains of the last few hours fall away. My ears still rang from the explosion.
I proffered my fag case to Kingdom Kum. He grabbed one and popped it between his lips. I leaned across with my lighter and he inhaled hungrily, then glanced quickly back and forth between Whitley and myself. There was something of the trapped beast about him–feral, suspicious, dangerous.
I cleared my throat and said: ‘Now, isn’t this nice? I believe I invited you to do some talking back there, Mr Kum. Why don’t you start?’
The boy pulled a shred of tobacco from between his teeth and glanced down at his long, bare feet. ‘Damn. I had some nice shoes back there in the clinic. Cost a mint.’ He shivered. ‘I was particularly fond of those shoes. Burned up now, I guess?’
I nodded. ‘I said, talk .’
‘Wasn’t I just talking?’
‘Don’t get smart. Who exactly are you working for?’
The boy shrugged. ‘I don’t have time for this, toots. You gotta let me go.’
Whitley Bey made a low, growling sound. ‘Shall I smack him about a bit? Sweat the truth out of him?’
‘No,’ I said flatly. ‘Not yet, anyway.’ I raised my eyebrows at the youth. The threat was implicit.
He sighed, then took a long drag on the cigarette. ‘Hey, you think I could sue those guys? Get some replacements? They were damned fine
After five minutes of running, I was exhausted.
‘Hang on,’ I gasped. ‘Give me a moment.’
Kingdom Kum nodded and I sank back against the gnarled bark of a tree, slowing my breathing. The sweeping arc of light from the clinic silhouetted the slender trees, turning them into prison bars. I reached into my trousers and pulled out another of Whitley Bey’s little miracles–a sachet of rehydration fluid, one of several sewn into the lining below my belt.
I drank it gratefully and then turned to offer one to my companion.
Oh, how inevitable! I was alone in the forest. Kingdom Kum had charmed me, duped me, and had now made his escape.
Gunfire crackled from the distant clinic, and the blare of a klaxon made me wince. I heard shouting coming from behind me.
I decided my best course of action would be to get out of the vicinity as rapidly as my aged legs would carry me. Somewhat revitalised by the rehydration sachet, I fell into a slow jog. However, I had gone only a few hundred yards when a hulking silhouette barred the path before me. I pulled up and ducked behind the nearest tree, hoping that I’d been in time to avoid detection.
‘Alright, petal,’ said the shape. ‘Eeh, I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?’
It was Whitley Bey.
And, clamped in the crook of his immense forearm, gasping for air, struggled the elusive Kingdom Kum.
I gave a huge sigh of relief–then suddenly the forest lit up like day. There was a terrific explosion and the three of us were hurled to the ground.
.12.
THE KEYS TO THE KINGDOM
R ain was tipping down outside the long window but, in the dimness of the University, a three-barred electric fire glowed cheerfully.
Just as promised, Whitley Bey had given me my hour’s grace and then he and his men had hit the enemy headquarters with everything they had. Unfortunately, it seemed the place was booby-trapped and so, seconds after the Jung Turks had shot their way inside, the building had gone up in flames. In the chaos, the few white-coated figures who had survived the attack had managed to escape, leaving behind little evidence of their activities. At least, though, we had Kingdom Kum.
He was huddled in a thick blanket before the fire, staring into space.
Whitley Bey sat bass-ackwards in a chair, paring his nails with a brutal-looking knife and shooting resentful glares at the newcomer. I stretched out my aching legs and lit a cigarette, letting the strains of the last few hours fall away. My ears still rang from the explosion.
I proffered my fag case to Kingdom Kum. He grabbed one and popped it between his lips. I leaned across with my lighter and he inhaled hungrily, then glanced quickly back and forth between Whitley and myself. There was something of the trapped beast about him–feral, suspicious, dangerous.
I cleared my throat and said: ‘Now, isn’t this nice? I believe I invited you to do some talking back there, Mr Kum. Why don’t you start?’
The boy pulled a shred of tobacco from between his teeth and glanced down at his long, bare feet. ‘Damn. I had some nice shoes back there in the clinic. Cost a mint.’ He shivered. ‘I was particularly fond of those shoes. Burned up now, I guess?’
I nodded. ‘I said, talk .’
‘Wasn’t I just talking?’
‘Don’t get smart. Who exactly are you working for?’
The boy shrugged. ‘I don’t have time for this, toots. You gotta let me go.’
Whitley Bey made a low, growling sound. ‘Shall I smack him about a bit? Sweat the truth out of him?’
‘No,’ I said flatly. ‘Not yet, anyway.’ I raised my eyebrows at the youth. The threat was implicit.
He sighed, then took a long drag on the cigarette. ‘Hey, you think I could sue those guys? Get some replacements? They were damned fine
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