'Which circumstances are those?'
'President Boyle has increased the military advisers. There are three million on the Continent, seeking out certain fifth column elements.'
'Surely nobody's worried.'
'Not about that. Nobody but the Three Presidents, anyway. And maybe Israel. You heard what happened yesterday? A fleet of Israeli helicopters landed in the Vatican City and arrested the Pope. Admittedly, they had a lot of aggravation.'
'I've been a bit out of touch.'
'I'm not blaming you for that'
They walked into the restaurant. It had been converted from an old orangery and its pillars were covered in vines, its windows looking out on to a white paved courtyard with a Regency fountain in which sparrows splashed.
Jerry ordered his hors d'oeuvre and chose roast quail as his main dish. They decided to drink Blue Nun.
'I think the machine should be found, you know.' Koutrouboussis chewed his chicken. 'After all, we're not in a very strong position without it, are we? Our chances are slim.'
'I don't much fancy the Shifter at this stage.' Jerry picked up a little leg.
'You might not have to go into it. We've got something of a lead. Does the name-?' Koutrouboussis choked on an asparagus spear. 'Does the name,' he took a sip of his Liebfraumilch, 'Gordon mean anything to you?'
'Flash Gordon?'
'Gordon Gavin?'
'That's right.' Jerry nipped at a quail's breast. 'The last I heard of him, he had twenty-two oifences behind him. For flashing.'
'Ah. Well, be that as it may, he got in contact with me a little while ago. He'd heard about our conversion scheme.'
'So he's at a centre.'
'Not yet. You know how timid these people are. He made an appointment but didn't keep it. Then he phoned again to say he had a message for you from a gentleman concerning an invention of yours that got lost during a test run. The machine, obviously.'
'I've lost a lot of inventions.'
'I'm sure he meant the machine. It could be our salvation, Cornelius.'
'Get away.'
2
Ignore advice to strip at high speed
Koutrouboussis crossed the street heavily and entered the gates of the Pheasantry where he had an apartment. Jerry followed him down the crazy paving between the crumbling statues and into a dark hall full of varnished doors and unseen fluttering wings.
They went along silent corridors, across quiet courtyards and up stairs until they were deep in the Victorian complex. Koutrouboussis stopped by a door on a second floor balcony overlooking a rock garden full of finches. The door's wood had been stripped and a yellow undercoat had been laid on the top half.
'Here we are.'
They went into a sunlit studio. On the raised floor to the right stood a brass bed with a large, loud, enamelled bird of paradise as its headboard. The bed also had a Turkish counterpane in dark red, yellow and blue.
The raised floor to the left had deep white cupboards containing Koutrouboussis's sink, stove and supplies.
An Old Gold fitted carpet covered the floor and the steps; by the far wall a large light screen was full of flowing colours that frequently changed shape.
In the corners, close to the ceiling, were four stereo speakers. In the middle of the floor kneeled two girls wearing lace and feathers, pale make-up, lots of big rings and richly decorated eyes.
As the girls looked softly at him, Jerry remembered them.
'Hello, Jerry,' murmured Maureen the Groupie.
'Hello, Jerry,' murmured Barbara the Groupie.
'Maureen and Barbara are staying with me for a bit.' Koutrouboussis loosened his tie. They're between groups at the moment.'
Maureen had honey-coloured hair and Barbara had chestnut-coloured hair; they stood gracefully up and went to the kitchen where they collected two tins and brought them back.
Maureen put an old Zoot Money record on the deck. The sound came softly through and the light screen shifted its shapes and colours.
Barbara kneeled to make cigarettes. She took the ingredients from the tins with her delicate fingers and rolled fat, full fags. She lit two and handed one to Jerry and the other to Koutrou-boussis. The men sat down on the ostrich plume cushions and smoked.
Maureen came back and kneeled beside Barbara; she drew on her cigarette with vague dignity. Then both girls tilted their impassive faces and directed their inturned eyes at the skylight until someone should ask for something.
'Now if it wasn't for the beans that come out the can, the peas, the beef, the rice and the spam, you can get going down to the grocer's store, really I couldn't eat no more. Let me tell you, my wife — now she can't cook and if I thought she could I wouldn't bother, but all she can do is fuss and holler, she don't even know how to boil water,' sang Zoot Money.
'Nineteen sixty-five.' Koutrouboussis took a long pull. 'So long, long, long...'
'If you leave me, I'll go crazy.'
Jerry smiled reminiscently at Maureen the Groupie who smiled back, sharing the secret that only kindness made them keep.
'Jump back, baby, jump back...'
Koutrouboussis lay down and closed his face.
Maureen's warm lips framed the words as she and Jerry looked matily into each other's eyes: ('Sweet little rock and roller...')
It was too much for Jerry.
He got up and grasped Maureen and Barbara by their small, soft hands and led them across the Old Gold carpet, up the three steps to the bed with its bird of paradise and began to pile the lace and feathers and rings they handed him. They were so fine and their style was so nice; and their agile, graceful, malleable bodies moved to their mutual pleasure.
'When the record was finished, Barbara went and put on another. It was Zoot Honey's Zoot!
Jerry looked across to the middle of the room.
Koutrouboussis's eyes were alive in a frozen, fading frame.
'Pigs.'
3
The New RM Top 50 Chart explained
Jerry, Maureen and Barbara left the Pheasantry and went in Jerry's car to the Ball Room in Wardour Street, Soho, where, in a spot that shifted through all the shades of blue, Sneaky Jack Slade whined wildly his signature tune, played on his smooth sitar.
'I'm the sneaky guy, don't deny my name. Yes, I'm the sneaky guy, don't deny my name,' he sang.
When Sneaky saw the new arrivals come in he scuttled off the little stage to be followed by Jonni Jane in platinum wig and rosepetal suit.
Jonni's hands flung themselves about. 'Now it's time for our newest, bluesest — let me introduce you — twelve or eight to the bar — to the bombshock blues of the junkiest, funkiest, wailingest picker of the year — get ready — he's coming — it's Clapham -George — Foulsham!' Jonni trolled off and on came Clapham George to play his latest composition. Ma Belly's Fulla Sour Milk.
'Mean ol' U. D., brought sour milk to me. Oh, that mean ol' U. D., brought sour milk to me...'
Leaving Maureen and Barbara by the Coca Cola stand, Jerry went to look for Lionel Himmler, the proprietor.
He found him, all sorrow and shit, in his little office behind the bar.
'And what brings you out in the daytime, Mr Cornelius?' Lionel lifted a glass of Bull's Blood to his pale lips. 'Not a blunt needle, I hope.'
'How's business, Lionel?'
'We're going over to strip shows more. You've got to get the customers from the suburbs, you see. Out of the Stockbroker Belt into the Suspender Belt, eh?' A cigar reared in his mouth.
'Soho isn't what it was.'