said Compton. ‘There are certain asset protection protocols in place around you now, Hooper. We can’t just rent a Hertz. If we roll out of here it will be in armoured vehicles with air support and full spectrum command and communications.’
Dave stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. A long piece of ham slid out of his omelette and dropped back onto the plate.
‘I think I understood what you just said.’
‘If we move, we go in convoy, with lots of guns,’ Emmeline clarified. Dave was about to say something to Compton but Professor Neckbeard’s phone also started to buzz. He turned back to Emmeline.
‘Well that sounds cool. But not as cool as that ,’ Dave said, as Boylan came dancing back to their booth. Actually dancing, old black and white musical style. And not at all fussed by the attention he was drawing, nor by the increasingly anxious and even fearful expressions on the faces of Heath and Compton. Getting his excitement under control again, Boylan finally pulled up a chair at the table and poured himself a cup of plunger coffee. He was almost panting.
‘Dave, we absolutely must speak about Mr Bradley Pitt and the frankly unspeakable amount of money he is offering to secure the rights to your story before Michael Bay gets hold of them. Did I mention we have a conference call with Michael Bay in half an hour?’
‘The Transformers guy?’ Dave said, noting Emmeline’s baleful eye turning back toward him. Heath had his hand over the phone and was talking in a low voice that Dave had no hope of hearing. Compton was arguing with somebody on his phone too, but it was all in jargon that made no sense to Dave.
‘The one and only,’ Boylan confirmed, as he grimaced at the coffee. ‘This is cold, too cold, and that’s not at all acceptable.’ He turned in his seat looking for a waiter to refill the coffee pot. The private lounge was even busier than before, with at least another dozen guests lined up at the door waiting to get in. The attention of the room, or at least of the tables not immediately surrounding theirs, had slipped away from their party again, with many people, as was so common these days, not talking to their families or friends or fellow guests dining with them, but rather yapping into cell phones, or reading the little screens, or even working on laptops. It was then, when Dave noticed the number of phones in the room, that they all started ringing within a few seconds of each other. Even Boylan’s incessant chatter was muted by the shrill beeping and pinging and ringtones of maybe two hundred electronic devices.
‘We’re out of here, now,’ said Heath, who had terminated his own call.
‘Problem?’ Dave said when Compton hung up as well.
‘Yes,’ Heath replied, ‘you might say that. Especially if you lived in Omaha and you just woke up to find a demon army camped next to the highway out of town.’
Compton smiled. ‘You’re going to have to postpone Michael Bay.’
07
Thresh squatted at the bottom of the pit, occasionally shifting its weight from one haunch to the other in a vain attempt to get at least partly away from the burning heat of the iron trapdoor on which it rested. Although, thought thresh, it was not so much resting as squirming and scraping and moving constantly to keep as small an area of its hide in contact with the hot metal grate as possible. It could endure the discomfort only so long before it had to move again, but moving was not easy in the cramped confines of the pit. Indeed, its mostly futile attempts to avoid the slow building agony of roasting in its own skin entailed almost as much pain from scraping its raw and bloodied flanks against jagged spikes of rusting spearheads and shattered Tümor bones set into the rock wall. Not a lovely, smooth rock wall of river stones and mortared pebble of the like enjoyed by the human captives in the larger, more commodious pits which commanded the better part of the Inquisitor Grymm’s principal
Dave stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth. A long piece of ham slid out of his omelette and dropped back onto the plate.
‘I think I understood what you just said.’
‘If we move, we go in convoy, with lots of guns,’ Emmeline clarified. Dave was about to say something to Compton but Professor Neckbeard’s phone also started to buzz. He turned back to Emmeline.
‘Well that sounds cool. But not as cool as that ,’ Dave said, as Boylan came dancing back to their booth. Actually dancing, old black and white musical style. And not at all fussed by the attention he was drawing, nor by the increasingly anxious and even fearful expressions on the faces of Heath and Compton. Getting his excitement under control again, Boylan finally pulled up a chair at the table and poured himself a cup of plunger coffee. He was almost panting.
‘Dave, we absolutely must speak about Mr Bradley Pitt and the frankly unspeakable amount of money he is offering to secure the rights to your story before Michael Bay gets hold of them. Did I mention we have a conference call with Michael Bay in half an hour?’
‘The Transformers guy?’ Dave said, noting Emmeline’s baleful eye turning back toward him. Heath had his hand over the phone and was talking in a low voice that Dave had no hope of hearing. Compton was arguing with somebody on his phone too, but it was all in jargon that made no sense to Dave.
‘The one and only,’ Boylan confirmed, as he grimaced at the coffee. ‘This is cold, too cold, and that’s not at all acceptable.’ He turned in his seat looking for a waiter to refill the coffee pot. The private lounge was even busier than before, with at least another dozen guests lined up at the door waiting to get in. The attention of the room, or at least of the tables not immediately surrounding theirs, had slipped away from their party again, with many people, as was so common these days, not talking to their families or friends or fellow guests dining with them, but rather yapping into cell phones, or reading the little screens, or even working on laptops. It was then, when Dave noticed the number of phones in the room, that they all started ringing within a few seconds of each other. Even Boylan’s incessant chatter was muted by the shrill beeping and pinging and ringtones of maybe two hundred electronic devices.
‘We’re out of here, now,’ said Heath, who had terminated his own call.
‘Problem?’ Dave said when Compton hung up as well.
‘Yes,’ Heath replied, ‘you might say that. Especially if you lived in Omaha and you just woke up to find a demon army camped next to the highway out of town.’
Compton smiled. ‘You’re going to have to postpone Michael Bay.’
07
Thresh squatted at the bottom of the pit, occasionally shifting its weight from one haunch to the other in a vain attempt to get at least partly away from the burning heat of the iron trapdoor on which it rested. Although, thought thresh, it was not so much resting as squirming and scraping and moving constantly to keep as small an area of its hide in contact with the hot metal grate as possible. It could endure the discomfort only so long before it had to move again, but moving was not easy in the cramped confines of the pit. Indeed, its mostly futile attempts to avoid the slow building agony of roasting in its own skin entailed almost as much pain from scraping its raw and bloodied flanks against jagged spikes of rusting spearheads and shattered Tümor bones set into the rock wall. Not a lovely, smooth rock wall of river stones and mortared pebble of the like enjoyed by the human captives in the larger, more commodious pits which commanded the better part of the Inquisitor Grymm’s principal
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