Never before had I known Alicia to lose her temper and swear. Hearing those words from her, of all people, shocked me almost as much as anything else that had happened that weekend.
I had no desire to hang around and watch Abigail's feeding time. I left the stone-cold tea on the table, and fled.
Chapter 7
I went to Ruth's 'meeting' after all. I had nothing better to do that evening — except stare at the phone, wondering whether I dared interrupt Duncan's orgy of introspection. I went past the gallery, which was showing a wide selection of what appeared to be carpet underlay, and knocked at the door leading up to Matt's office. It was opened by a teenager wearing a black beret and cradling a machine-gun. I wondered if it had been Ruth's father who had provided the hardware.
He looked me up and down. 'Who you, babe?' He wasn't wasting any syllables. I gave my name, and he consulted a small notebook. I was apparently on the guest-list, because he nodded and stepped aside.
'Strict door policy you've got here,' I said, keeping an eye on the barrel of the gun as I squeezed past. 'That won't be a whole lot of use, by the way. Bullets don't stop them.'
'Yeah, they do,' he said. 'Shoot their feet off and the fuckers can't walk.'
The place I'd used as an HQ all those years ago had been transformed. The threadbare carpets had been replaced by sanded-down floorboards and a couple of plush oriental rugs. Someone had knocked a hole in the roof and inserted a large fanlight, and this, together with an excess of greenery, gave the place the look and feel of a conservatory. It was a clear night; if you looked straight up, you could see the stars. There were stars on the walls as welclass="underline" signed portraits of pop singers, and a couple of certificates. It seemed that my erstwhile friend Matt was now an important and much sought after director of pop promo videos.
'Dora!' exclaimed Ruth, detaching herself from a bunch of people who were sipping wine and laughing at their own jokes. 'You made it!'
'Well,' I said. 'Look at you.' Yesterday's chic black frock had been replaced by a flak jacket, lumpy army-surplus trousers gathered around the ankles by drawstrings, and a samurai headband printed with some Chinese characters and a red sun motif. I saw her puckering her lips, ready to perform the kissing manoeuvre, and swerved to avoid it.
'Have a drink.' Her eyes fell on my bandages. 'Good Lord, what have you done to your hands?'
'An allergy.'
'Allergy? What kind of allergy?'
I told her I was allergic to broken glass. She made a sympathetic face. 'Poor Dora, you're always doing horrible things to your hands. Oh well, mingle and enjoy yourself. Dino'll be here any minute.'
'Dino? You're kidding.'
She shook her head solemnly. 'Our most valuable asset. Our main man.' I cringed, but she had already waddled off to greet another arrival. I endeavoured to chat with the other guests, surprised at how much information they had gathered. None of the obvious conclusions had been drawn, but Duncan and I were evidently not alone in our efforts to hold the fort against the rampaging hordes of night's black agents.
I ran into Desperate Dan, who had acquired an additional twenty-two hours' worth of stubble since our last meeting. He reeled off a list of industries which had fallen under Multiglom control in the meantime, Sunday or no Sunday. I talked to a TV presenter who had lost her job after refusing to swap her day shift for a night one, and to an editor of consumer affairs who had been sacked for resisting the drive towards intensive, non-critical coverage of Multiglom-linked products.
I talked to a computer buff who had hacked his way into the Multiglom files and been horrified by what he'd found there — a sort of hit list, he said, with some pretty famous names on it, though he refused to elaborate further. I talked to an advertising copy-writer, and to the sales manager with a firm of kitchenware manufacturers, and to an intense-looking man with a beard who said he was a film director; this last fellow had subjected me to ten minutes of unmitigated boredom before I recognized him.
'Matt,' I said. 'It's Dora.'
He did a double-take. 'I thought I'd seen you somewhere before. How long has it been?'
'Thirteen years,' I said, wondering how such a charming young hophead could have turned into this overfed entrepreneur.
'This is really wild, isn't it,' said Matt, or Matthew as I found he now preferred to be known. He had once changed his surname to Paint, but the age of flippancy was long gone.
I was thankful when our desultory conversation was interrupted by Ruth, who hollered and waved her arms like a cattle-driver. 'Ssh, everyone. Dino's here. Why don't you fill your glasses and take a seat.'
There was a mad rush to the bar, followed by aimless milling around the half-dozen or so chairs. Most people hunkered down on the floor. Finally, two people were left standing. One was Francine, still in her party frock and looking slightly the worse for wear. The other was a short, bullet-headed individual in a camouflage jacket. Even before he'd scratched his crotch and introduced himself, I guessed who it was.
'We all know what's happening,' Dino began, glaring fiercely at the assembled company. 'And we know what we have to do. We're all British here, so none of us have actually lived under an oppressive Fascist regime. But I've been conferring with the Weinsteins — Ruth's father and his father — and, believe me, these are guys who know what they're talking about. They lived through the Holocaust. And the way things are going, they reckon this country is turning into something that'll make Nazi Germany seem like a vicar's tea-party. The only way we can stop this happening is if we stand up and fight. We've got to do it, and we've got to do it now.'
He paused, possibly for applause that wasn't forthcoming, and went on: 'Me, I've always been a pacifist, but maybe that's because we've never had a cause worth fighting for. Until now. Now, our customs, our traditions, our way of life are being threatened by inhuman invaders who will stop at nothing to impose their vile regime. We must stand firm — not only for our own sake and the sake of our children, but for the sake of mankind. Now — are we going to lie down and let these scumbags walk all over us? Or are we going to stand up and fight?'
There was a hubbub of approval. I didn't join in — I was thinking about a dream I'd once had, and wondering whether to keep mum or pipe up. Dino's smarmy expression helped me make up my mind. As soon as the noise died down, I raised my hand.
'You don't have to put your hand up, Dora,' said Ruth.
'Well,' I said, feeling everyone's eyes on me and almost wishing I'd kept my mouth shut, 'it seems to me that you've missed the point.'
Dino was frowning. 'What point? What are you talking about?'
'I don't know whether you can compare all this to Nazi Germany,' I said. 'I think if you must use an analogy, it's more like the situation in the Middle East.' There was a ripple of unease, but I pressed on regardless. 'Look at it this way. All down the ages, vampires have been hunted down and persecuted, just because of what they are. Now they've had enough. They've decided to create a haven where they can live and hunt in safety. No more torch-wielding villagers, no more stake-happy vigilantes — just a smoothly run economy and specialized catering facilities. Business goes on as usual, the only difference being that it goes on at night. There wouldn't be a problem if it weren't for us. We're in their way, you see. We're the Palestinians.'