The Fool - Chapter Twenty-One ============================= I - I wake up with a hangover of apocalyptic proportions. I cannot move my head without causing pain sufficient to blur my vision and make it hard for me to continue to move my head. I lie there for a while groaning, not moving my head. I keep forgetting not to move my head and wincing in pain. Ow. Must not move my head. I have no recollection whatsoever of last night. Oh yes I do. An image of Beth and Bea on stage singing about Judgement Day flashes before me and I wince again. I preferred it when I couldn't remember, I think, and sit up. Ow. Mistake. Big mistake. My head stays still but the room is spinning in a crazy head-over-heels motion. Where the hell am I? Oh. I am at home. This is where I live. I don't know how I got home, but I am at home. It dimly occurs to me that being in such a state that I don't immediately recognise my own home is probably not a great idea. I dismiss the thought. Ow. There is half a glass of water by the bed which has been there for I don't know how long. I sip it slowly, and feel the bits of the inside of my mouth which have become stuck together slowly peeling apart. I lie back down again. Ow. Another mistake. Now the room is spinning on the opposite direction. I really must stop moving my head like this. My eyes close, but the spinning sensation still continues. Maybe it is my head that is spinning after all. II -- I am lying in a shallow grave. I can see a circle of bull-headed figures standing around the mouth of the grave, looking down at me. They are staring at me with big unfriendly eyes, and I stare back in terror. I cannot move. Now there is some kind of commotion, and I hear the sounds of people moving about in confusion and panic. The bull-headed figures disperse, looking about them in all directions. Shots ring out and there are screams and curses. Something explodes behind me and above my head, and a fistful of earth and clods lands on me in the grave. I close my eyes quickly. I still cannot move. While my eyes are closed, something swoops down and grabs me. I am lifted out of the grave, lifted higher and higher, and as I open my eyes I see the ground below disappearing away from me at a rapid, vertiginous rate. I am gripped in the talons of an enormous bird of some kind. I catch a glimpse of a small gaggle of bull-headed figures, standing in a clump by the grave I have just vacated, shaking their fists at the sky and shouting incoherently. Then they are gone, and we are flying through blue skies over a landscape of hills green with field and forest. Twisting to try and see what kind of creature it is that has rescued me, I feel the talons loosen and the creature disappears with a swoosh. I am falling towards the ground. My throat constricts in panic. I am going to die. III --- I wake with a start and sit bolt upright in a sharp movement. Ow. Ow. Ow ow ow. Still hungover then. The phone rings. Each chime of the ring hits my head with the force of a hammerblow, and while I am not sure I will actually be able to talk to anyone right now, I need to stop that ringing. I answer the phone. "Hello Adam, it's Dora here. How are you?" "Fine thanks," I croak. "You don't sound too well," she says. "Is everything alright?" "No, I just woke up," I say, or at least, try to say. "Just woke up?" she says. "It's ten o'clock. Aren't you at work?" "No," I croak. There is a silence. Dora is expecting me to explain why I am not at work. I try and formulate a suitable sentence but my mind is not functioning. "Oh of course," says Dora. "You were working for Peter, weren't you. Have they given you the day off or something?" "No," I say. "They let me go." "Oh," says Dora, sympathetically. "How unfortunate for you." "Yes," I say. "Well," says Dora, brightly. "I was going to invite you to come for tea after you finish work today, but now you can come at four with everyone else." I am silent for a while, digesting this. "It's not an entirely social event," says Dora. "There are certain matters pertaining to the Order and to recent events which I would very much like to discuss. I do hope you are free this afternoon." I have no particular plans, it is true. "Ok," I say. "Good," says Dora. "I shall look forward to seeing you later on then, at four." IV -- By the time I arrive at Dora's I am feeling a little better, and she opens the door resplendent in a long green sarong, beaming at me. "Adam," she says, with a smile. "How lovely to see you. Do come in. Everyone else is already here." She waves me through to her lounge. A roomful of people turn to stare at me as I walk through the door, one of whom is Beth, and I am suddenly dizzy again. There seems to be nowhere to sit, but Dora appears with an extra chair and hands it to me. "Hi," says Beth. "Hi," say I. Dora perches on the arm of a sofa and pours tea from a large ornate teapot into a china cup. "I don't need to ask you whether you want tea," she says, passing it to me, her eyes twinkling. V - "Now," continues Dora. "I don't think you've met everyone, Adam. Beth you know, this is Else, Michael, Gabriel and Dave. Everyone, this is Adam. Adam joined the Order only recently." They all turn to look at me, and I shrink in my chair, attempting to smile and unsure of the results. 'Dave' appears to be Dave Sharpe, and is having as much difficulty smiling as I am, if not more. The others, Else, Michael and Gabriel, seem friendly enough though, and Gabriel, sitting on my left, passes me a spliff. "Here, smoke that," he says. "Nice to meet you Adam." "I should also mention," says Dora, "that up until yesterday, Adam was actually working for Peter Chapman." "Oh really," says Dave Sharpe, leaning forward and turning to me. "What were you doing for him?" "Well," I say, "Data entry at first, then he took me on to do some programming." "What kind of programming?" asks Michael. "Very dodgy database stuff," I say. "Only lasted a week. Less, even. From what he asked me to do, I'm not surprised he was nicked, erm, arrested. All very dodgy." "Oh really," says Dave Sharpe, again. "Dodgy how?" "I don't know," I say. "I was never really sure what the company actually did, or what the database was for. But it looked like he was trying to get code written that would get round a few things for him." "So he was involved in some kind of fraud as well, you mean," says Dora. "Fraud as well?" I say. "Isn't that what he was arrested for?" "Oh no," says Dora, handing me a newspaper. "Not fraud. Manslaughter." VI -- "Man Arrested In Mystery Death Case" "Police in Brighton confirmed yesterday that they have arrested a 38 year old London man in connection with their investigation into the deaths of Jason Reeves, 34, and Annie Fry 28, who were found dead in a car in Brighton two weeks ago. The couple died after taking pills from a bad batch of the drug Ecstasy. Both are thought to have been dealing in the drug. The man arrested, who was not named, was held overnight for questioning, and is expected to be charged later today." I look up. "It doesn't say manslaughter," I say. "Or name Peter Chapman." "No," says Michael, "but we know it was him." Else sees my confused expression and smiles at me, her eyes twinkling through rimless spectacles. "There's no mumbo jumbo involved, Adam," she says, "though I must admit I was pretty sure it was him. But they did name him today. I heard it on the radio. And they've charged him with manslaughter. Apparently he had a laboratory at home, which is where he made that batch of pills." "Should be murder," growls Dave Sharpe. VII --- "I quite agree," says Dora. "The law is an ass." "Well," says Else. "That is all as maybe. But..." "I am interested," says Michael, "in this fraud angle. Adam, you say that Peter was asking to you get round things for him. What do you mean?" "He wanted to able to delete records from databases that you're not supposed to be able to delete records from, to perform transactions that are supposed to have an audit trail, only without an audit trail, and... erm, that kind of thing." "Ah," says Michael. "That's just mumbo jumbo to me, so I'm still none the wiser, I'm afraid." I smile weakly. "He means Peter was trying to falsify records," says Dave Sharpe, impatiently. "But it sounds like he doesn't actually know what kind of records." "That's right," I say, "I don't." "How can you not know that?" asks Else, looking at me. "It's often a bit like that in programming," I say. "I didn't need to know what the database was for in order to do the work on it." "That's terrifying," says Dora. "Do you really mean that?" "I think so," I say. "I mean, this was a special case, obviously, where he hardly told me anything at all about what he wanted. But other times, I've found that I don't need to understand the whole thing in order to solve a small problem." "Like what?" says Dave. "I don't know," I reply, trying to think of a suitable example that wouldn't get too technical. "Take a word-processor, say. You don't need to understand the whole way the whole thing works just to make a heading go bold." "No," Dave. "It doesn't hurt, though." VIII ---- "Well it's all still mumbo jumbo to me," says Michael. "I just hope he wasn't falsfying our accounts as well as everything else." "Well," says Dora, shooting Michael a glare, "we'll have to check that out, won't we." Michael looks embarrassed and falls silent. "Now," says Else, "I believe Dave has something he wishes to say, don't you Dave." "Yeah," says Dave, looking down. He coughs. "Yeah." "To Beth and to Adam," says Else. "Yeah," says Dave, to his shoes. There is a pause. "Now, Dave," says Else. "Mum I'm not a kid any more," says Dave. "No," says Else. "I don't think you ever were," says Beth, and laughs. No-one else does. "Sorry," says Beth. Dora glares at her. "Beth and Adam," says Dave, looking up slowly, tense and pale. "I want to apologise to you for accusing you of... of saying that you had something to do with what happened to Jason and Annie. They were both good friends of mine, and I've been really upset by the whole thing, and I haven't been thinking straight, obviously. So, I'm sorry." My toes curl in embarrassment. "That's alright Dave," I tell him, not sure what else to say. "And...?" says Else, staring hard at Dave. "And I'll send a message to the USoM mailing list tonight repeating what I just said," says Dave, through clenched teeth. "Thankyou Dave," says Else. "Beth?" says Dora. Beth blinks. "What am I supposed to say?" she says. "Oh, yes. Sorry. Dave, I accept your sincere apology." She flashes a sickly smile in his direction. "Thanks Beth," says Dave, gruffly. "Thanks Dave," says Else. IX -- Gabriel looks at the clock and nods at Dora. "It's time," he says. "Beth..." says Dora, giving her daughter a meaningful look. Beth sighs, and stirs on the sofa. "Ok ok," she grumbles. She looks at me. "Adam," she says, standing up. "Come with me. I want to show you something." My heart begins to leap, then falters, remembering it no longer has reason to leap. Beth is at the door, beckoning at me. I stand up, feeling awkward, and follow her through into the kitchen. "Close the door," says Beth, and I do so, wondering what it is she is going to show me. X - "Sit down," says Beth, putting the kettle on. "More tea?" "Yes please," say I, doing as ordered. We are both silent as the kettle boils, and Beth makes two mugs of tea and brings them over. I sigh. "So," I say, "what did you want to show me?" "Oh nothing," says Beth. "I just needed to get you out of the room so the others could talk about some Inner Order business for a bit." "Oh right," I say. "Nice." "Well," says Beth. "It's all very boring, really. Wouldn't mean much to either of us." "Ok," I say, nodding slowly. We sip tea in silence for a while. "You were superb last night," I tell Beth. "You and Bea. Amazing singing. Really good." "Thankyou," says Beth. The silence deepens. I can hear the sound of chanting from the next room, though I cannot make out the words. "Talking about boring business, are they?" I say. "Well you know," says Beth. "They can't fart without doing prayers before and afterwards. That's all." I laugh. "Nothing wrong with that I suppose", I say. "Increase the domain of the holy and all that." Beth looks puzzled. "Holy?" she says. "What's holy about a bunch of hippies playing mind games with each other?" "Is that all it is?" I ask her. "It's all that's happening next door," she says.