Web Site Story

'Tell me about your mother,' said Shibboleth, which rang a certain bell. 'Only the good things.'

'No,' said Kelly. 'But tell me about your brother. Have you any idea at all about where he might be now?'

'None,' said Shibboleth. 'You can't hack into go mango. It occupies a different area of cyberspace. One that no man has access to. None perhaps, but one.'

'Remington Mute,' said Kelly.

'The lad himself,' said Shibboleth. 'But whether Mute is still alive, only a select elite knows that.'

'The worshippers at the chapel?'

'You could ask them, but I don't think they'll tell you. Oh dear.'

'Oh dear?' Kelly asked.

'Oh dear,' said Shibboleth and he pointed. 'The canny Scotsman Kenny has toppled over. The days of the great and sterling slanders of the single leg are well and truly over. Still, let's give him a round of applause, you could see he was doing his best.'

Shibboleth clapped and Kelly, shrugging, clapped as well.

The patrons applauded and several patted the canny Scotsman, who was now in tears, upon his shaking shoulders.

'Well done old boy,' they went. 'Nice try. Better luck next time.'

The Scotsman limped away to the bar.

'This place really sucks,' said Kelly.

Shibboleth raised an eyebrow that was dark and dapper and dandy. 'That's rather strong language for a posh young woman like you,' he said.

'I am somewhat stressed at present,' said Kelly. 'What time is it now?'

'Aren't you wearing a watch?'

'Not any more. Mine was digital. A Mute Corp Oyster.'

'Mine's a clockwork jobbie,' said Shibboleth, taking it from his inside pocket and peering at it. 'You can never be too careful. It's nearly half past eleven. We've time for a few more drinks.'

'I'd rather keep a clear head. How far is the chapel from here?'

'Not far.' And Shibboleth raised his glass.

'Just one thing,' said Kelly. 'If you intend to betray me, have a care. I sent a man to his certain death today. My life is in tatters. I wouldn't think twice about…"

'OK. I get the picture. I know you're an exponent of Dimac. You studied that on the Web, didn't you? You did all your university degrees on the Web. You even met your first boyfriend through a chat room.'

'What are you getting at?'

'You're a bit on your own now, aren't you?'

Kelly finished her red wine. 'You can get me another, please,' she said. 'A large one would be favourite.'.

Shibboleth returned to the bar counter. The landlord was now standing upon it. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' he called out over the ugly heads of the assembled patrons. 'It appears that the jukebox is well and truly banjoed.' Someone hurled a bottle, which the landlord ducked professionally. 'So in order that you do not go unentertained,' he continued, 'my lady wife, Spongetex, will perform her much-loved standing-ever-so-still act.'

'I can hardly wait,' said Kelly, munching on a filter tip.

A young-fellow-me-lad, with a stylish Rayban sunglasses facial tattoo, leaned close to Kelly and whispered at her ear. 'The landlord's missus really knows her stuff when it comes to standing-ever-so-still,' he said. 'She used to work as a school crossing keeper. But they dismissed her because of the high mortality rate among the schoolkids. Then she…'

'Go away,' said Kelly. 'Or I'll punch your lights out.'

Shibboleth returned with a bottle of red wine. 'The landlord wasn't looking, so I nicked this,' he said. 'Do you want to move to a seat nearer the bar so you can watch his lady wife?'

'I'd like to go,' said Kelly. 'I can't take all this excitement. '

'We can't go yet,' said Shibboleth. 'We have to wait for someone.'

Kelly's hand reached up towards her hair. A frown turned down the corners of her mouth.

'You don't have to worry,' said Shibboleth. 'I haven't led you into a trap.'

'So, who is this person I'm going to meet?'

'Oh, you're not going to meet him. He's the Reverend Jim, high priest of the chapel. He always comes in here for a swift half before the service. We're going to follow him.'

'Why?' asked Kelly. 'I thought you knew where the chapel is?'

'I do, it's here in Mute Corp Keynes.'

'And "whereabouts, exactly?'

'Ah, that I'm not entirely certain of

'You lied to me,' said Kelly, rising to take her leave.

'I didn't He exactly, please sit down.'

Kelly sat down and glared at Shibboleth.

'That really spoils your looks,' he said. 'I didn't lie. I know it's here. Somewhere. And somewhere close. I've followed the Reverend before. Many times, but he always gives me the slip. Which is why I asked you to come. With the two of us on his case, I'm sure he won't be able to vanish away.'

'Vanish away,' said Kelly. 'I'm going. This was all a waste of time.'

'No, wait, stay. And don't look now, because he's just come in.'

If ever there was a haunted-looking man, a fearful man, a timid man, a man far gone in nervous trepidation, then that man was not the Reverend Jim… The Reverend Jim was big and broad and jolly. Avuncular, that was the word. Ruddy of both cheek and barnet, smiley all about the mouth regions and given to great bouts of belly-hugging laughter at the very drop of a hat.

But then, let's face it, hat-dropping can be funny. Especially when performed by one of the greats of the Art who had all played the Tomorrowman Tavern during the golden era of hat-dropping, less than a decade before (on Friday nights). Showmen such as Harry The-Hat-Drop' McFadayen. Or Tommy 'Tip-the-Topper' Thompson. Not to mention Ben 'There-Goes-my-Bowler' Bradshaw.

'That is a high priest?' asked Kelly, peeping towards the Reverend Jim. 'He looks more like some jovial uncle. Or one of those old hat-drop artists. Ben 'There-Goes-my-Bowler' Bradshaw, for instance.'

'Don't mention him,' said Shibboleth. 'But the Reverend Jim is the high priest. Let's face it, looks can be deceptive. My mother always looked like a total moron, but then she was the exception that proves the rule.'

'You haven't spoken about your mum,' said Kelly. 'Only your brother. Your mum vanished as well, didn't she?'

'Frankly I'm glad to see the back of her,' said Shibboleth. 'I'm only looking for my brother because he owes me money. This is a hard town to live in and it's full of bad people. I know, because I'm one of them.'

Kelly sighed. 'I really have wasted my time coming here,' she said. 'I think I'll just beat you unconscious, avail myself of your stolen car and drive back to Brentford.'

Great gut-rumblers of laughter echoed from the bar counter area, much to the annoyance of those patrons who were trying to concentrate upon the landlord's lady •wife's standing-ever-so-stillness.