God Emperor of Didcot Read Online Free PDF Page B

the house,’ Smith said. He glanced left and right to make sure that he was not observed, and added pointedly, ‘Birds fly south for the winter.’
    ‘Woo,’ said the wallahbot. ‘Woo doot doot Pimms?’ it asked, and the dome flipped back to reveal an array of bottles.
    ‘Bit early for me,’ Smith replied, and the wallahbot’s dome closed up.
    ‘Fair enough,’ it said. ‘I’ll just see if the master’s at home. Wait here please. Woodle-oo.’
    Smith watched it stomp into the house and said, ‘How do I understand those things?’
    ‘I’ve no idea,’ Carveth said. ‘I thought it was a flip-top bin.’
    A sprinkler system hissed into life across the lawn. A small, weasel-like man strolled around the side of the house in a sports jacket. His eyes were half-closed, like a lizard’s, and there was a cigarillo between his long fingers.
    If he got any more languid, Smith thought, he would fall asleep and topple into the shrubbery.
    He smiled. ‘You must be Smith. Pleased to meet you. James Featherstone.’
    Smith shook hands. Featherstone nodded at Suruk.
    ‘Is this your boy?’
    Smith looked at Suruk. ‘No,’ he said, puzzled. ‘Do we look similar?’
    Featherstone said, ‘Boy as in servant . Any decent spy has servants.’
    ‘He’s not a servant, he’s my friend. I hope that’s not a problem,’ Smith added, giving Featherstone one of his hard stares.
    ‘Not at all. I rather like the fellow. His mouth has a cruel twist. And I must ask, who’s this perky young thing?’
    ‘Hello,’ said Carveth. ‘I’m Polly. Nice house.’
    ‘Polly Carveth, my pilot,’ Smith explained.
    ‘It’s bad to have women on a job: they have to be kept in order. Women are always trouble to someone,’ Featherstone said, with the air of one reciting a proverb.
    He raised an eyebrow and blew out smoke. ‘The only question is, Miss Carveth, are you going to be trouble to me ?’
    Carveth grimaced. ‘Which is more platonic: yes or no?’
    Featherstone laughed lightly. ‘Come with me, Smith. We need to talk about your being here. Your moon-man can bring in your things. In the meantime, your people are quite welcome to use the pool, so long as the alien doesn’t turn it green. The little woman’s very welcome.’
    He turned and passed gracefully through the French windows. Smith frowned and glanced at his crew. Behind him, Carveth mimed nausea and Suruk kicked the suitcases over.
    ‘As soon as this cretin is of no more use to us. . .’ he growled.
    ‘True,’ said Smith. ‘He seems a little on the, ah, louche side. Can’t say I’m impressed.’
    Carveth patted her pockets. ‘Has anyone got the keys to the ship?’
    ‘I thought you had them,’ Smith said.
    ‘I gave them to you.’
    He sighed. ‘You had them, Carveth. This is a professional mission, you know. We won’t look like good spies if you lose the spaceship keys on our first day here.’
    Irritated, he strode into the cool of the house. Featherstone was prodding buttons on an enormous machine as it coughed ice cubes into a cocktail shaker.
    ‘Cocktails make a man keen,’ Featherstone said. ‘What do you take?’
    Smith thought about it. He would have preferred a gin and tonic, or a pint of beer, but one of the most important arts of the spy was looking the part. ‘The one with the little umbrella,’ he said.
    Featherstone’s eyes stared at him from under their heavy lids. The exhaled smoke did not quite freeze in mid-air. ‘They all have a little umbrella,’ he said.
    ‘One of those, then,’ Smith said.
    ‘I suppose you’ll want it stirred next,’ Featherstone said crossly, and he poured some liquid into a glass. Outside, Suruk had taken the champagne out of the ice bucket, filled the bucket with pool water and was enjoying a drink from it. Smith tried his cocktail. It tasted like the venom of an alcoholic snake.
    Featherstone watched Carveth climb onto the sun lounger and wriggle about to get comfortable. ‘That little pilot of