“Well?”
“That,” Jane said, “will be just fine.”
ELEVEN
The reason why Kiss hadn’t shown up yet was that he’d bumped into an old friend.
“Why the hell,” said Philly Nine, picking himself up off a bank of low cloud, “don’t you look where you’re damn well… oh, it’s you.”
“Hello there,” Kiss replied. “How’s you?”
“Oh, mustn’t grumble. And you?”
“Persevering. Keeping busy?”
“Mooching about, you know. Nothing terribly exciting, but enough to keep me off the streets.”
“Ah, well. Is that a war I can see starting away down there?”
Philly turned and peered over his shoulder through the thin layer of cumulo-nimbus. “Where?” he asked.
“Sort of south-east. Look, you see that mountain range to your immediate right? Well, follow that down till you meet the river, and…”
“Got it,” Philly said. “Gosh, yes, it does look a bit like a war, doesn’t it? Tanks and planes and things.”
Kiss gave him a long, hard look. “One of yours, Philly?” he asked quietly.
“Gosh, what is it today, Thursday… Oh, that war. Yes, well, I may have had something to do with it.”
“You and your obsessive modesty.”
Philly shrugged. Far below, in the vast deserts of Mesopotamia, fleets of armoured personnel carriers speeding across the dunes threw up clouds of dust that blotted out the sun. “It’s only a little war,” Philly said.
“Small but perfectly formed?”
“One likes to keep one’s hand in.”
Kiss frowned. “Like I said, Philly, you’re too modest. Why do you do it exactly?”
“Why do I do what?”
“Start wars. I mean, is there some sort of annual award for the best war, like the Oscars or whatever? First of all I’d like to thank my megalomaniac fascist dictator, that sort of thing?”
Philly smiled, a little sadly. “It’s what I do,” he replied.
“You’re very good at it. Have they started shooting yet?”
Philly glanced at his watch and shook his head. “Two abortive peace initiatives to go yet,” he answered. “Give it another couple of hours, we might be in business. Things are so damn slow these days.”
Kiss fingered his chin thoughtfully. “This war,” he said. “Going to lead to anything, is it?”
“I do my best,” Philly replied. “If you don’t do your best, why bother to do anything at all?”
“I see. So it might be the start of something, well, big?”
“Fingers crossed.”
“Civilisation as we know it? Goodbye, Planet Earth?” Philly smiled. “Great oaks and little acorns, old son,” he said cheerfully. “You never know.”
“Fine.” Kiss took a step forward. “I hate to have to say this, but—”
“But you can’t allow it?” Philly grinned at him. “If I were you, I’d consider all aspects of the matter rather than relying on a snap judgement.”
“All aspects of global thermonuclear war are easily considered, Philly, and I don’t hold with them. Cut it out, now.”
“Think,” Philly replied. “Supposing the world is destroyed, right?”
“With you so far.”
“Well.” Philly Nine folded his arms. “In that case, there’s no way you’d have to marry that girl. Off the hook, you’d be, and absolutely nothing anybody could do about it. Just consider that for a moment, will you?”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Now you’ll tell me,” Philly went on, “that I’m contemplating something of a hammer-and-nut situation here. On the other hand, I can think of one hell of a lot of married men who’d say this was a classic case of omelettes and eggs. No disrespect intended, Kiss, old son, and I’m sure she’s a charming girl, but when you actually stop and think it through…”
Kiss froze, his lips parted to speak in contradiction. Deep inside him, in the cubby-hole in his soul where his true identity lived (knee-deep in washing up and dirty laundry, overflowing ashtrays and discarded styrofoam pizza trays) a little voice piped up and said, You know, he’s got a point there, over.
Balls, replied the rest of him. This is the temptation of the foul fiend. Rule One, don’t listen to foul fiends. Any pillock knows that, over.
Yes, but think about it, will you? Not having to stop being a genie. To thine own self be true. Love means not being allowed to take your socks off in the living room. You would do well to consider all the pertinent aspects of the matter before committing yourself to any course of action, over.
Bugger off, over.
Yes, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Over and out.
“I hear what you say,” Kiss said, “But no thanks, all the same. I reckon that if I can’t sort out my domestic problems without conniving at Armageddon it’d be a pretty poor show — and besides, I live here. And you know what a drag it is finding somewhere decent to live these days. Carbon-based life forms don’t grow on trees, you know.”
“Suit yourself, then,” Philly replied, and hit him with a thunderbolt.
“G’day.”
Asaf spun on his heel, missed his footing on the wet deck and sprawled against the mast, barking his shin.
“You again,” he snapped. “I thought I’d seen the last of you.”
The Dragon King, hovering in a cloud of purple smoke, looked offended. “Lighten up, cobber,” he replied. “I’m a dragon, remember? And dragons don’t bludge on their mates. She’ll be right, you’ll see.”
“What the hell are you talking about, you insufferable reptile?”
“Look, mate.” The Dragon King contracted his formidable eyebrows, until he looked for all the world like a bejewelled privet hedge. “No offence, but I reckon I’ve had about enough of your whingeing for one adventure, thank you very much.” He nodded towards the sky. “That sheila,” he continued. “She’s on her way.”
Asaf blinked. “The rich one?” he asked.
The King nodded. “Too right,” he replied. “In fact, she should be along any minute now. So let’s have a bit less of The complaints, right?”
“Right.” Asaf frowned. “You’re sure about that?” he queried. “I mean, we are in the middle of the sea. I don’t really see where she’s going to…
WHOOSH.
The carpet zagged down like a turbocharged pigeon, braked in mid-air and hovered. God knows how it managed it, but it somehow gave the impression that it had an invisible meter, and that it was running.
Jane opened her eyes. If the truth be told, she wasn’t one hundred per cent taken with what she saw.
She appeared to have come to rest half-way through a dragon; in fact she was wearing the bloody thing round her neck, like a horse collar.
Now that, she said to herself, really is uncalled for. God knows, I’ve tried to be reasonable throughout this whole nightmarish business, nobody can say I haven’t given it my best shot, but this really is…
The dragon was floating about ten feet above the deck of the ship; as was the carpet, which appeared to have come to rest half in and half out of the dragon’s right shoulder. Seen close to, the dragon looked as solid as a Welsh full-back, but Jane couldn’t feel anything there. Probably, she decided, just as well.
The dragon’s head pivoted slowly on its long, elegant neck and turned towards her.
“G’day,” it said. “Asaf, this is Jane. Jane, Asaf.”
Jane glanced down and saw that there was indeed a human being on the deck of the ship — a youngish man with a mop of black hair and a prominent nose, wearing a green anorak. He seemed to be staring at her in, well, disbelief.
“You’re joking,” he said.
The dragon appeared disconcerted at this. “No, mate, straight up. Get stuck in.” It winked a round blue eye.
“No way,” the man said angrily. “If you think I’ve come all this way…”