wish I’d listened,” she added. “But then, if I’d paid any attention to what Pieter said, I’d have died of boredom inside of a year. Are you married?”
“Extremely,” Theo said. “But not right now.”
“It’d probably be OK now that you’re not a scientist any more,” she said kindly. “Seeing anyone?”
“No.”
“Probably wise. Give it a year or so, if I were you. I heard of an ex-biochemist in Florida somewhere who was normal again eighteen months after quitting science for good, but it doesn’t do to rush these things. So,” she went on, looking at him a bit sideways, as if looking for a seam between his neck and his head, “what’s one of Pieter’s old students doing behind the desk at a fleapit like this?”
“Only job I could get.”
“Ah. That figures. Actually, it’s not too bad here. Bill’s a nice guy, and little Mattie’s just such a doll, don’t you think? You could do worse,” she added with a gentle smile. “In due course. When you’re better. My key.”
Matasuntha; just such a doll. No, he couldn’t really concur with that; not even one of those Russian dolls which turn out to be half a dozen separate dolls, nested inside each other. “Sorry?”
“The key,” she said gently, “to my room. So I can let myself in. Rather than standing outside in the corridor all night.”
“Ah,” Theo said, and pulled open the desk drawer. There was just the one rusty iron key in there this time. “There you go. Is there anything…?”
“I don’t think so. No, belay that. Get me a bottle of champagne. The Veuve Clicquot ’77.”
“Um,” Theo said. “I’m not supposed to leave the desk unattended.”
“No problem.” She leaned over, grabbed the collar of his coat with a grip like a scrapyard crusher, and pulled him up out of his chair. Then she edged past him and sat down in his seat. “I’ll mind the store while you’re gone. See? No problem is insuperable so long as people are prepared to help each other.”
Theo stood frozen for a moment. Then he nodded three times in quick succession. “Veuve Clicquot ’77, coming right up. Um—”
Mrs Duchene-Wilamowicz sighed. “Row 9, stack 47, shelf 17B. On your left as you go in the door.”
“Ah. Fine. Won’t be long.”
After all, he thought as he ran down the stairs, why not the cellar? It was huge down there, and now he knew about the catalogue system, he could make sure his hiding place was truly random. Then, once his shift was over, he could nip down again and retrieve the bottle, and –
Yes. Well. Think about that later. Right now, just concentrate on hiding it. Pieter’s wife, for crying out loud. Probably just a coincidence; yeah, sure. Customers who believed that might also like to sample our extensive selection of guaranteed genuine three-dollar bills.
The cellar door creaked when he opened it, but it was just showing off; inside, no coffin draped in red satin, no bats, just a lot of wine, in racks. He found an empty slot, memorised the coordinates and took the bottle and the envelope out of his pockets. And hesitated.
After all, he told himself, his first visit had taken no time at all, literally. And that nice Mrs Duchene-Wilamowicz was minding the desk for him. And he needed to know – He turned over the envelope and looked at the equations, wondering what to do next; last time, he’d achieved access by solving the equation, and he’d already done that, so –
The flying knife missed him by an inch, sailed past and buried itself in the tavern door.
Fun, Theo thought furiously, and dived under a table. Pieter’s idea of fun, he refined, as a heavy body crashed down about a foot from his nose and lay quite still. He couldn’t see properly because the table was in the way, but was that an axe buried in the poor bastard’s head?
He wriggled sideways, away from the body, until someone trod on the back of his left leg. That made him sit up, and sitting up made him bang his head on the underside of the table, and after that things were vague for an unspecified time. When the vagueness gave way to a searing headache, he lifted his head and peered out between the legs of a chair. It was much quieter now; very quiet indeed.
Cautiously he crawled out from under the table and stood up. He was in a bar. Not the sort of bar he was used to, because, instead