The Woman Who Died a Lot (Thursday Next 7)

“Nothing at all,” I said. “Phoebe Smalls, this is my husband, Landen. Landen, meet the new head of SO-27.”

“You seem quite young,” said Landen.

“It’s due to my age,” said Phoebe, and Landen laughed, and I glared at him.

“What do you think that says?” said Landen, handing the picture to Phoebe before I could stop him. I glared at him again, and he mouthed, What?

“Tresco,” said Phoebe, handing the picture back. “The prison island off the coast of Cornwall. That’s my guess.”

“That’s exactly what we thought,” I said hurriedly, “but always best to get a second opinion.”

“Oh?” said Phoebe.

“Congratulations on your appointment toSO-27,” said Landen. “We just heard. Who are you considering as your second-incommand?”

I looked at him. He was using his “I’m so really up to something” voice. “Landen . . . ?”

“That’s exactly why I’m here,” said Phoebe. “Earlier you generously asked me to work with you, and I thought I would return the compliment. I want you to be my deputy at SO-27, Thursday. My number two. My rock. What do you say?”

“That’s a very kind offer,” I said, “and although SpecOps is in my blood and I would dearly love to accept . . . I’ve just accepted the job of chief librarian from Braxton.”

“Ah,” she said. “Now, that’s a shame.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” I rose from the bench with considerably less elegance than I had hoped. “Good luck with the job,” I told her. “I’ll expect our paths will cross pretty soon.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

We exchanged farewells and walked off. I didn’t speak until we were heading back toward Clary-Lamarr.

“I hate that Phoebe Smalls.”

“Don’t be so cross, Thursday,” said Landen, stifling a smile. “She seemed rather nice. Kind of like you.”

“She’s nothing like me.”

But she was, of course. Just younger. Once we were back in the Skyrail car heading home, Landen passed me his cell phone and I called Braxton to accept the chief librarian job.

“Ballocks,” I said as soon as I had snapped the phone shut.

“Now what?”

“The Tesco/Tresco thing. Before my accident I would have made that connection instantly. I used to be sharper.”

“It’s the Dizuperadol. I said you should stick to just three patches.”

“I know. I hate the stuff, but without it I can barely function.”

Landen laid his hand affectionately on my thigh, and I let my head fall onto his shoulder. We sat like that for several minutes. I wasn’t going to tell him I had upped my patch dosage to four.

“Landen?”

“Yes?”

“Aornis give the mindworm to me, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Landen quietly, “damaging, annoying and potentially destructive of personality and family. And since those memories are as much part of her as you, there’s only one way we’re going to be able to get rid of them.” He patted the pocket where I knew he kept his pistol. “We’re going to deal with the Aornis situation once and for all.”

I looked into Landen’s eyes for a long time. He was deadly serious.