Philpot was writhing and pushing with his knees and kicking wildly. Nathan wrapped his arms tighter round the man’s legs and hauled back away from the fuse. A tearing agony shot though Nathan’s side. The pain enraged him, and he lashed a punch at Philpot. It was a mistake. He had released part of his hold, and now the struggling and kicking was harder than ever. He was losing him. Philpot’s fingertips stretched out to touch the fuse.
The fifth charge stopped blinking and Kenzy began to twist the priming wheel on the sixth charge. It was achingly slow.
Nathan couldn’t get his grip back. He was slipping free. The only hope was to let go completely and make another grab for a stronger hold. Do that, and Philpot was bound to get to the fuse. Go directly for the fuse himself. Philpot was bound to beat him to it. His side ached like a bastard. Decide. Decide now. He let go, and launched himself at the fuse. Before he could touch it Philpot had it in his hand. The man’s face was not calm now. He was wild with anger now, wild with failure now, and he pressed the switch now and Nathan closed his eyes now and Kenzy turned the last priming wheel now on the last charge now. The indicator went off, and Box screeched and howled deafeningly on.
Conclusions
Before he left the Moon, Daniel Larwood did try to apologize to Theroux. “I’m constantly amazed,” he said, “at the way people take a change in their hormone balance to be an intellectual or even a religious insight. I don’t believe in the road to Damascus; but for what it’s worth, David, I’m sorry.”
“Was it worth Gary Benson’s life?” Theroux asked.
Larwood shrugged his weary shrug. “Nothing’s ever worth a life,” he said. “But then again,” and he smiled the rumpled smile, “life’s untidy, and it doesn’t last. I prefer stories myself.”
For the Star Cops, the story had some loose ends. Devis, Cogill and Kenzy – especially Kenzy – were angry and offended. When Nathan told no-one but Theroux that he was staying on Moonbase because of what he heard in Philpot’s interview with Caxton; that was a betrayal. He obviously didn’t trust them. They were not happy either with his explanation that after the destruction of the Lucifer Seven he stayed dead because it was the best way to bring the suspect out into the open. For fuck’s sake, Kenzy managed to apprehend a suspect all by herself. Of course, she had been spoiling for a fight, and it was the wrong suspect, but she hadn’t found it necessary to lie to them all. Because the feeling of the meeting was, that’s what Nathan had done; he had lied to them.
“My grandmother always said, you can lock up against a thief, but there’s no protection from a liar,” Devis observed.
“Your grandmother never said that,” Theroux said.
“Okay, so I lied,” Devis agreed. “But we have been treated badly here. I think I speak for my colleagues when I say we deserve a drink, at the very least.” And, with a flourish, he produced the brandy confiscated from Larwood just before he had been deported.
Nathan took it from him and, smiling his most charming smile, said, “Sounds reasonable.” He opened the bottle and poured generous measures for all of them. By the time he poured his own the others had drunk theirs but he raised his beaker anyway. “If you make mistakes, make them with people you trust.” It was about as far as he felt he could go with an apology. About as far as he wanted to go. He was tired, and a bit depressed. Reaction, he supposed.
Devis poured himself another drink and passed the bottle on. “Present friends; absent enemies,” he said, sipping this one more slowly.
“This is it, is it?” Kenzy asked. “This is our apology?”
Nathan looked serious. “As Colin’s grandmother always said, being in charge means never having to say you’re sorry.” He drained his brandy and watched them all as they waited for him to smile.
When he didn’t, it was quite deliberate.
Also available from What Noise Productions
What Noise: audiobooks on CD and download from www.whatnoise.co.uk :-
When Harry Met Sheila: The Autobiography of Sheila Steafel
The Devil Take Your Stereo by Anthony Keetch
Blue Box Boy: A Memoir of Doctor Who by Matthew Waterhouse
Fates, Flowers: A Comedy of New York by Matthew Waterhouse
Vanitas: A Comedy of New York by Matthew Waterhouse
Wishhobbler by Francis O’Dowd
Head Music: books and e-books from www.whatnoise.co.uk
Blue Box Boy: A Memoir of Doctor Who by Matthew Waterhouse
Fates, Flowers: A Comedy of New York by Matthew Waterhouse
Vanitas: A Comedy of New York by Matthew Waterhouse
Wishhobbler by Francis O’Dowd
Star Cops Page 51