Something Rotten (Thursday Next 4)

'Ah!' he said. 'The ubiquitous Miss Next. LiteraTec, team manager, saviour of Jane Eyre. Is there anyt

hing you can't do?'

'I'm not that good at knitting.'

There was a ripple of laughter among the team, and also from Kaine's followers, who abruptly silenced themselves as Kaine glanced around the room, scowling. But he controlled himself and gave a disingenuous smile after nodding to Stricknene.

'I just came down here to talk to the team and tell all of you that it would be a far better thing for this country if I stayed in power, and even though I don't know how Zvlkx's Revealment will work, I can't leave the secure future of this nation to the vagaries of a thirteenth-century seer with poor personal hygiene. Do you understand what I am saying?'

I knew what he was up to. The ovinator. It would, as likely as not, have us all eating out of his hand in under a minute. But I wasn't figuring on Hamlet, who appeared suddenly from behind Stricknene, rapier drawn. It was now or nothing and I yelled:

'The briefcase! Destroy the ovinator!'

Hamlet needed no second bidding and he leapt into action, expertly piercing the case, which gave off a brief flash of green light and a short high-pitched wail that started the police dogs outside barking. Hamlet was swiftly overpowered by two SO-6 agents, who handcuffed him.

'Who is this man?' demanded Kaine.

'He's my cousin Eddie.'

'NO!' yelled Hamlet, standing up straight, even though he had two men holding him. 'My name is Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Danish, and proud of it!'

Kaine gave a smug laugh.

'Captain, arrest Miss Next for harbouring a known Danish person - and arrest the entire team for aiding and abetting.'

It was a bad moment. With no players the game had to be forfeited. But Hamlet, actioneer that he had become, was not out of ideas.

'I shouldn't do that if I were you'

'And why not?' sneered Kaine, not without a certain quaver in his voice; he was now acting solely on his wits. He had neither his fictional roots nor the ovinator to help him.

'Because,' announced Hamlet, 'I am a very special friend of Ms Daphne Farquitt.'

'And—?' enquired Kaine with a slight smile.

'She is outside, awaiting my return. If I fail to reappear or you try any sort of anti-Mallets skulduggery, she will mobilise her troops.'

Kaine laughed and Stricknene, sycophant that he was, laughed with him.

'Troops? What troops are these?'

But Hamlet was deadly serious. He glowered at them for a moment before answering.

'Her fan club. They're highly organised, armed to the teeth, seriously angry at having had their books burned and ready to move at her command. There are thirty thousand stationed near the stadium and a further ninety thousand in reserve. One word from Daphne and you're finished.'

'I have reversed the law banning Farquitt,' replied Kaine hastily. 'They will disperse when they learn this.'

'They will believe nothing from your lying tongue,' replied Hamlet softly, 'only that which Ms Farquitt tells them. Your power is waning, my friend, and destiny's inelegant toe creaks the boards to your door.'

There was a tense silence as Kaine stared at Hamlet and Hamlet stared back at Kaine. I'd witnessed quite a few stand-offs but none with so much at stake.

'You haven't a hope in hell anyway,' announced Kaine after

considering his options carefully. I'm going to enjoy watching the Whackers trash you. Release him.'

The SO-6 agents uncuffed Hamlet and escorted Kaine out of the door.

'Well,' said Hamlet, 'looks like we're back in the game. I'm going to watch with your mother — win this one for the Farquitt fans, Thursday!'