'And this door leads to?'
'To your personal games suite. Come.' Mr Bashful ushered Kelly through the doorway. The chamber was small and had no windows. The ceiling was low. The walls were white. There was a desk with a computer terminal, there was a chair before the desk.
'Sit down,' said Mr Bashful, pointing to the chair. 'Key in your name and then follow the instructions you are given. What could be simpler than that?'
'Nothing,' said Kelly. 'But I do have a couple of questions.'
'Go on then.' Mr Bashful looked mildly irritated.
'Firstly,' said Kelly. 'I noticed that the door closed and automatically locked behind us. How do I get out if I have to use the toilet, or something?'
'Key in your request, someone will come.'
'I see,' Kelly nodded.
'So if that's all right, I'll be off.' Mr B. looked slightly nervous now.
'Secondly,' said Kelly. 'This computer terminal. It's a Mute Corp 3000 series. Surely a bit antiquated. I expected something far more state-of-the-art here.'
'You get what you're given,' said Mr Bashful.
'I see,' said Kelly. 'Would you mind putting it online for me then? It's a while since I've used this particular model.'
'Just click the mouse,' said Mr Bashful, in the manner known as brusque.
'How?' Kelly asked. 'Would you mind showing me?'
Mr Bashful's hands shot into the pockets of his eight-piece suit. 'All you have to do is click it,' he said. 'Even a woman can do that, surely.'
Kelly fluttered her eyelashes. 'I am only a woman,' she said.
'Just click it, go on, I'll be back later.' Mr Bashful turned to take his leave.
'Oh, one more thing,' said Kelly.
Mr Bashful turned back again. 'What is it now? he asked.
Kelly smiled and said, 'Only this,' and then she punched his lights out.
Derek's lights were on, but no-one seemed at home. 'Can I just get this straight?' he asked. 'You want me to acquire four crad barges?'
'And some Morris Minors,' said Mr Shadow. 'About fifty of those should do the trick.'
'Fifty Morris Minors? Why?'
'The car most seen on the streets of Brentford. It's all on file. Please let us not waste any more time.'
'But you can't expect me to do all this. I have a paper to put out. News to gather. Things of that nature generally.'
'You'll be issued with press releases,' said Mr Speedy. 'All will be taken care of. You have been chosen for this task on the grounds of your suitability. You know this borough. You are the local reporter.'
'I'm the features editor,' said Derek.
'And you know the locals. You know where to acquire what we need.'
'I suppose I do,' said Derek.
'And you will be handsomely rewarded.'
'I will?' said Derek.
'Cash,' said Mr Speedy. 'You'll be dealing in cash.'
'I will?' said Derek once again.
'Large quantities of cash,' said Mr Shadow. 'Your expenses will not be questioned.'
'Oh,' said Derek.
'Yes, oh,' said Mr Speedy. 'Which means that you fiddle your accounts and we'll turn a blind eye to it. You scratch our backs, we put an Armani suit upon yours. If you catch my drift and I'm. sure that you do.'
'I've never been an Armani man,' said Derek. 'Not since they dropped natural fibres anyway.'
'So,' said Mr Speedy. 'Do we have a deal? You do what we ask you, your secret, regarding all those stolen computer games in your possession, remains safe with us and you get a big cash kickback to do with as you please. Possibly purchase that Atari 7800 scrapyard dog game you've been bidding for over the Net from that dodgy American dealer.'
'Oh,' said Derek.
'And I could just possibly let you know how to get the three magic cans on Eisenhower Lane on level 2.'
'Oh,' said Derek.
'So do we have a deal?' asked Mr Shadow.
'You can count on me,' said Derek, putting out his hand for a shake.
Mr Speedy however did not shake the outstretched hand of Derek, instead he just poured himself another Scotch and raised his glass in salute. 'Welcome to Mute Corp,' he said. 'The company that takes care of its employees.'
'And that, I think, has taken care of you,' said Kelly.
Mr Bashful was struggling, muffled sounds came from his mouth, his eyes darted every which way.
'If you're trying to say, "What happened?" or possibly something ruder,' said Kelly, 'then allow me to explain. I knocked you unconscious. And then I tore up your clothing and used it to strap your now naked body into the chair. Your right hand, you will observe, is strapped to the computer mouse. Your mouth is gagged. I am now going to remove the gag. But if you cry out for help,' Kelly reached down and took hold of Mr Bashful's genitals, 'these will be put in severe jeopardy. Do I make myself absolutely clear?' And she gave Mr Bashful's gonads a far from friendly squeeze.
Mr Bashful's eyes flashed wildly. His head bobbed up and down.
Kelly released the gag from his mouth. The gag was knotted underpants.
'Untie my hand,' wailed Mr Bashful. 'Get it off the mouse.'
'How interesting,' said Kelly. 'Of all the things you could have said, you chose to say that.'
'Let me go, you bitch,' said Mr Bashful.
'When you've answered some questions.'
'I won't tell you anything that I'm not authorized to tell you. It's more than my job's worth.'
'You'll tell me everything,' said Kelly.
Mr Bashful shook his head.
'Firstly,' said Kelly. 'I want to know all about this Go mango game. Tell me more about that.'
Mr Bashful struggled some more. He seemed most intent on getting his hand away from the computer mouse.
'No?' said Kelly. 'All right then. Let's run the programme. Let's see you play the game.'
'No!' Mr Bashful fairly shrieked.
Kelly clapped her hand over his mouth. 'No, I didn't think so,' she said. 'What does the game do? Could it be that it infects you with something? Something that gets inside your head? Something contagious that can be passed from one unsuspecting person to another?' She released her hand.
Mr Bashful stared at her open-mouthed. 'You know,' he said. 'What do you know?'
'I know it's loose,' said Kelly. 'I know it has to do with Remington Mute and the Mute-chip.'
'I don't know anything more than you do,' said Mr Bashful. 'I just do my job. I don't ask too many questions.'