Something Rotten (Thursday Next 4)

'And that is?' asked Bowden.

'Children,' breathed Stig. 'We have planned for just such an expedition and your sapien characteristics will be useful. You have an impetuosity that we can never have. A Neanderthal considers each move before taking it and is genetically predisposed towards caution. We need someone like you, Miss Next — a human with drive, a propensity towards violence and the ability to take command — yet someone governed by what is right.'

I sighed.

'We're not going to get into the Socialist Republic,' I said. 'We have no jurisdiction and if we're caught there will be hell to pay.'

'What about your plan to take all those books across, Thursday?' asked Bowden in a quiet voice.

'There is no plan, Bowd. I'm sorry. And I can't risk being banged up in some Welsh slammer during the Superhoop. I have to

make sure the Mallets win. I have to be there.'

Stig frowned at me.

'Strange!' he said at last. 'You do not want to win out of a deluded sense of home-town pride - we see a greater purpose.'

'I can't tell you, Stig, but what you read is true. It is vital to all of us that Swindon win the Superhoop.'

Stig looked across at Mrs Stiggms and the two of them held a conversation for a good five minutes — using only facial expressions and the odd grunt. After they had finished Stig said:

'It is agreed. You, Mr Cable, and ourself will break into the abandoned Goliath re-engineering labs. You to find your Shakespeares, we to find a way to seed our females.'

'I can't—'

'Even if we fail,' continued Stig, 'the Neanderthal Nation will field five players to help you win your Superhoop. There can be no payment and no glory. Is this the deal?'

I stared at his small brown eyes. Judging by the quality of the players I had seen outside and my knowledge of Neanderthals in general, we would be in with a chance — even with me locked up in a Welsh jail.

I shook his outstretched hand.

'This is the deal.'

'Then we must eat. Do you like rabbit?'

We both nodded.

'Good. This is a speciality of ours. In Neanderlese it is called Rabite'n'bitels.'

'Sounds excellent,' replied Bowden. 'What's it served with?'

'Potatoes and a ... tangy greeny-brown crunchy sauce.'

I can't be sure but I think Stig winked at me. I needn't have worried. The meal was excellent and Neanderthals are quite correct — beetles are severely underrated.

31

Planning Meeting

COMMON CORMORANT NUMBERS DECLINE

A leading ornithologist claimed yesterday that bear/bird incompatibility is to blame for the cormorant decline in recent years. 'We have known for many years that cormorants lay eggs in paper bags to keep the lightning out,' explained Mr Daniel Chough, 'but the reintroduction of bears to England has placed an intolerable strain on the bird's breeding habits. Even though bears and birds rarely compete for food and resources, it seems that wandering bears with buns steal the cormorant's paper bags in order, according to preliminary research, to hold the crumbs.' Reports that the bears are of Danish origin is suspected but not yet substantiated.

Article in Flap! magazine, 20 July 1988

'So what do you know about the Elan?' asked Bowden as we drove back into town.

'Not much,' I replied, looking at the charts of Mr Shaxtper's teeth. Stig reckoned he had lived in the Elan for a lot longer than the others — perhaps until only a few years ago. If he had survived that long, why not some of the others? I wasn't going to raise any false hopes quite yet, but at least it seemed possible we could save Hamlet after all.