The fire gave out little warmth or cheer but the Grand Bishop never resented its meagreness.
‘You and I have got a very big fucking problem, Bish.’
What he resented was the behaviour of his visitor. The way he moved and spoke, the man’s very presence rankled. The Grand Bishop shifted in his chair.
‘The way I understand it,’ he replied, ‘the entire town has ‘a very big fucking problem’.’
His visitor shrugged, fluffed his ginger beard with the fingers of one hand while he dragged on a cheroot in the other.
‘This town and the people in it have no significance for me. Except,’ and here Magnus pointed his two ochre-stained smoking fingers at the Grand Bishop, ‘for those that eat meat, my employees and the Chosen. Those people make this world go around. They make your world go round too, Bish. But most of the townsfolk are as stupid as the meat they eat. If it weren’t for their groats buying my produce, I’d just as soon turn them into cheap pies.’
‘Yes, I can see how you care for those around you. And yet you’ve come all the way here to discuss the matter with me in person. It’s most unusual, considering you normally send a runner with your ‘requests’.’ The Grand bishop appeared to muse for a few seconds. ‘Heavens, it must be five years since I last saw you, Rory.’
He watched the pressure building inside Magnus knowing there was nothing the man could do to him. They would needle each other until the matter was resolved and a plan formulated. It would have been quicker and simpler to cooperate but Magnus didn’t work that way.
‘Sales are dropping,’ said Magnus.
The Grand Bishop decided not to hear. Instead he stared into the fire, piously distracted.
‘Hmm?’
‘We’re dumping tons of meat each week. Demand is slumping.’
The Grand Bishop raised his eyebrows but continued to stare into the fire.
‘Slumping, you say? Well, well.’
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Magnus swelling in his chair. The man already engulfed it, barely able to keep both buttocks on board.
‘The townsfolk,’ said Magnus through clenched teeth, ‘are not eating as much meat as they used to.’
Looking bored and slightly annoyed, the Grand Bishop hauled his gaze away from the fire.
‘That, Rory, sounds to me like your ‘very big fucking problem’, not mine.’
Magnus stood up, tipping his chair over.
‘That nutter John Collins is spouting blasphemies to all who’ll listen, Bish. He’s telling them they don’t need to eat meat. He’s telling them…’ The Grand Bishop noticed now the vibration that seemed to affect Magnus’s whole body and inwardly he smiled. He’d seen Magnus angry before – Magnus was always angry about something – but he never shook with rage. This was something new. Perhaps the man wasn’t going to be such a nuisance for much longer. ‘He’s telling them that they don’t need to eat anything at all. Some of them believe him, Bish. The man’s a disaster.’
‘Sit down, Rory.’
‘I’ll do no such th–’
The Grand Bishop held up a calming hand.
‘Just sit down and listen to me for a second. John Collins is a lunatic. That much I grant you. But what he’s saying is so outlandish that he destroys himself with his own message. Surely, you don’t believe what he’s telling them.’
‘Of course I fucking don’t believe it.’
‘So what makes you think that what he says will make any difference? We’ve got to look at the long term here, Rory. The man will have his moment and when the people realise that not eating meat and not eating at all leads to weakness and ultimately death, they’ll realise how stupid they’ve been. Collins’s time will be over.’
‘But he’s already made a difference. People are listening to him and acting on what he says. Doesn’t it bother you that he’s a blasphemous heretic?’
The Grand Bishop let his eyes find Magnus’s.
‘He wouldn’t be the first one I’ve had dealings with, Rory.’
Magnus sat down. It looked as though he did it because he was tired rather than because he’d regained his composure.
‘But he’s making a mockery of the Welfare.’
‘We’ll survive. And when his downfall comes, we’ll be sure to capitalise on it.’
Magnus’s shoulders slumped. He took a new cheroot from a case and lit it from the one he was finishing. He flicked the spent one at the fire but missed. Sighing, the Grand Bishop stood up and scraped the butt out with his boot.
‘I want your Parsons to help my men find him.’
‘And why should I authorise that?’
‘I’m not making this up, Bish. I’ve met this man. I’ve… we came to blows.’
This time the Grand Bishop’s eyebrows raised in genuine interest.
‘Indeed?’
‘Yes. Indeed. He’s a strong man. And I don’t mean purely physically. He has a will, Bish. You know what I’m talking about. He sees through lies. He fears nothing.’
The Grand Bishop was silent for a long time. He’d thought long about how to deal with Collins, taken a lot of advice and information from his scouts and spies around the town. He was more than aware of the threat the man posed but he wasn’t about to share that with Magnus. Especially now that Magnus looked so weak.
‘I’m sorry, Rory. I understand your concerns, I really do. And I can see how important it is that your business runs profitably. But I have our faith to consider and the spiritual welfare of the town. I cannot be seen to form an open alliance with MMP—’
‘For fuck’s sake, Bish, it would be clandestine. We’re not going to advertise it.’
‘We wouldn’t need to. Word gets around, Rory, you know that. I can’t afford to let the townsfolk think the Welfare sees John Collins as a threat. I must be seen only to deride the man for the charlatan he is.’
‘Is that your final word on this?’
‘It is.’
Magnus stood. With difficulty, the Grand Bishop was delighted to observe.
‘Support for Parsons entering dangerous areas of the town may no longer be available, Bish. I’ll be experiencing some manpower deficiencies in the near future as I try to take care of a problem the Welfare should be dealing with. But with you as an example, I’m sure your representatives know how to look after themselves, don’t they?’
He didn’t wait for a reply.
When the door had closed, the Grand Bishop permitted himself a smile. Welfare had been cowed by Magnus Meat Processing for far too long. Now Magnus himself was sick and things were going to change in the town. The Grand Bishop’s best Parsons were already searching for Collins. Reports suggested they were very close to finding him and his gang of starveling followers. Welfare would root out Collins for the whole town to see. Welfare would show the town what happened to people who didn’t eat the flesh of the Chosen as instructed by God. And then Welfare would reassert religious control over the production of meat, and harmony and piety would return to the town.
Each morning before dawn they rose as if pulled by an invisible tide and ascended the many stairs and broken escalators that brought them to the surface. He led them and they moved silently. The night after their council, the silence was loaded, resolved.
Collins believed they were deep enough in the Derelict Quarter that the Welfare would not come looking for them but he couldn’t be certain of it. However, there was nothing Magnus wouldn’t do to find him. His scouts and spies would be abroad in the town like cockroaches picking over people’s leavings.