The Eyre Affair (Thursday Next 1)

He smiled for the last time and shook his head slowly. I had been trying to plug his wounds as he lay dying, but it was no good. His breathing became more labored and finally stopped altogether.

“Shit!”

“That’s Mr. Schitt to you, Next!” said a voice behind us. We turned to see my second-least favorite person and two of his minders. He didn’t look in a terribly good mood. I surreptitiously pushed Felix7’s wallet under a workbench with my foot and stood up.

“Move to the side.”

We did as we were told. One of Schitt’s men reached down and felt Felix7’s pulse. He looked up at Schitt and shook his head.

“Any ID?”

The minder started to search him.

“You’ve really screwed things up here, Next,” said Schitt with barely concealed fury. “The only lead I’ve got is flatline. When I’ve finished with you, you’ll be lucky to get a job setting cones on the M4.”

I put two and two together.

“You knew we were in here, didn’t you?”

He glared at me.

“That man could have taken us to the ringleader and he has something that we want,” asserted Schitt.

“Hades?”

“Hades is dead, Miss Next.”

“Horseshit, Schitt. You know as well as I do that Hades is alive and well. What Hades has belongs to my uncle. And if I know my uncle, he would sooner destroy it forever than sell out to Goliath.”

“Goliath doesn’t buy, Next. They appropriate. If your uncle has developed a machine that can help in the defense of his country, then it is his duty to share it.”

“Is it worth the life of two officers?”

“Most certainly. SpecOps officers die pointlessly every day. If we can, we should try our best to make those deaths worthwhile.”

“If Mycroft dies through your negligence, I swear to God!—”

Jack Schitt was unimpressed.

“You really have no idea who you are talking to, do you, Next?”

“I’m talking to someone whose ambition has throttled his morality.”

“Wrong. You’re talking to Goliath, a company that has the welfare of England foremost in its heart; everything that you see about you has been given to this country by the benevolence of Goliath. Is it little wonder that the Corporation should expect a small amount of gratitude in return?”

“If Goliath is as selfless as you suggest, Mr. Schitt, then they should expect nothing in return.”

“Fine words, Miss Next, but cash is always the deciding factor in such matters of moral politics; nothing ever gets done unless motivated by commerce or greed.”

I could hear sirens approaching. Schitt and his two minders made a quick exit, leaving us with Felix7 and Archer’s bodies. Bowden turned to me.

“I’m glad that he’s dead and I’m glad that I’m the one that pulled the trigger. I thought it might be hard but I did not have the slightest hesitation.”

He said it as though it were an interesting experience, nothing less; as though he had just been on the roller-coaster at Alton Towers and was describing the experience to a friend.

“Does that sound wrong?” he added.

“No,” I assured him. “Not at all. He would have killed until someone stopped him. Don’t even think about it.”