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'That's most unfair of God,' said Minky. 'Rapturing away my husband and leaving me penniless. I've a good mind to change my religion. And come to think of it, how come God chose to Rapture up my Big Bob? I'm much nicer than he is. I'm the one who should have been Raptured.'

Kelly turned to Derek. 'I think we should go,' she said. 'There's nothing to be found here.'

Derek produced a pocket camera. Til just take one or two photographs,' he said.

'That seems sensible.'

'Yes it does,' said Minky. 'Do you want me to take my top off?'

Kelly looked at Derek.

Derek shook his head. Rather sadly, it seemed to Kelly.

'Oh go on,' said Dr Druid. 'You know that you want to.'

'And to think,' said Kelly. 'I almost liked you.'

'What?' said Derek. 'What?'

They sat in the bar of the Flying Swan, Brentford's finest alehouse. Eight premier hand-drawn beers on pump and an ambience that said that here was well and truly, truly, truly and most truly once and for ever again, a pub.

'You behaved like a total prat back there,' said Kelly. 'You lied and you connived and you actually had that woman take her top off.'

'I'm sorry,' said Derek. 'I went into newspaperman mode. But there is a story here, there's no doubt of that.'

'The Rapture?'

'Not The Rapture. That doctor's up to something.'

'I've no doubt at all about that.'

'I don't believe in vanishing patients. There's a more logical explanation. Medical malpractice probably. The illicit selling of organs. Things of that nature.'

'I've misjudged you,' said Kelly.

Derek smiled.

'No, I mean you are a total prat. No doubt whatsoever about it.'

'Come on now. Be fair.'

'Something happened in that hospital. Something bizarre. Something paranormal.'

'Rot,' said Derek. 'I mean, well, I disagree.'

'Come off it,' said Kelly. 'No doctor is going to make up the story that his patients vanished in front of his eyes. He could have said that they discharged themselves. He could have said anything. But not that. He called you because he didn't want to be blamed. He made that clear enough. No money was involved.'

'People don't just vanish,' said Derek.

'They do,' said Kelly. 'There have been cases, the Earl of Bathhurst, Kasper Hauser, Amy Johnson, Glenn Miller, Lord Lucan, Richard Branson

'Unexplained disappearances. That's not the same as just vanishing. And you seem to know a lot about this sort of business. You knew about The Rapture and everything.'

'I read a lot,' said Kelly. 'These things interest me.'

'Well they don't interest me. And although they might interest the readers of the Weekly World News, they won't interest the more sensible folk who purchase the Brentford Mercury.'

'This is a very nice pub,' said Kelly, looking all around it.

'And it's full of history. Pooley and Omally used to drink in here.'

'Oh yes?' said Kelly. 'This would be Pooley and Omally, the mythical heroes of Brentford, who thwarted the invasion of the borough by beings from the lost planet Ceres and numerous powers of darkness who chose to set foot in the borough?'

Derek grinned. 'Every borough has its folklore and its heroes,' he said. 'There are people in Brentford who claim that they actually knew Pooley and Omally.'

'And do you believe them?'

'No, of course I don't.'

'So, what are you going to do about what Mr Holmes might well refer to as "The Singular Case of the Vanishing Bus Men"?'

'Actually I've had second thoughts and I'm going to pass on it,' said Derek. 'Because I don't want to make a total prat of myself by writing it up and then have them come wandering home.'

'I see,' said Kelly. 'Then would you have any objections to me following it up?'

'It's neither here nor there, with me. You can do \vhat you like. But don't expect Mr Shields to print anything you come up -with.'

'I think this might prove to be rather important.'

'And I think you'll be wasting your time. Same again?'

Kelly looked into her empty glass. 'No thanks,' she said. 'I think I'll call it a night. I've got digs in Abbadon Street, I think I'll go back now. Pick up a chicken and mushroom pie and a bag of chips on the way back.'

'But I thought you were a vegetarian.'

'And I might well have been. But I'm not. And I made a mistake by accepting your invitation to dinner.'

'You invited me, I recall.'

Kelly smiled.

'Listen,' said Derek. 'You really have me all wrong. Let me buy you another drink. The chippy stays open late, you won't miss your chicken pie.'

'I'm missing it already.'

'Just one more drink. Then I'll walk you to your door.'

'Just the one then.'

Derek took himself off to the bar, leaving Kelly alone with her thoughts. Her thoughts were in some confusion at the present time. Something was happening here. Here in this little suburban backwater of Brentford. Something bizarre and something paranormal. And she was an outsider, an out-borough type. She was a stranger here. But she was here and if something was going on, she really truly meant to get right to the bottom of it.

At the bar counter, Derek bobbed up and down trying to get some attention. 'Over here, please,' he went. 'I say, over here.'

The professional barman went about his professional duties in a highly professional manner.

He served the regulars first.

'Oh come on,' called Derek. 'I was here before him.'

'Coming right up,' called the barman, serving somebody else.

'The service here is rubbish,' said Derek to an ancient gent a-seated on a bar stool.

'I never have any trouble,' said the ancient, whose name was Old Pete. 'Have you tried ordering your drinks in Runese, that would help.'

'Are you sure of that?'

'I'm sure.'

'Sadly I don't know Runese,' said Derek. 'In fact I think the entire concept of a universal tongue of forty words to be utter rubbish.'

'You'll be a long time getting served then.'

Derek sighed. 'Do you speak Runese?' he asked.

'Like a native,' said Old Pete.

'So how do you ask for a large red wine and a large vodka and tonic?'

Old Pete studied the glassy bottom of his empty glass.

'All right,' said Derek. Til get one for you too.'