Marcher: The Author's Preferred Text by Chris Beckett

Author:Chris Beckett [Beckett, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
Amazon: B00MEINJ5E
Publisher: NewCon Press
Published: 2014-08-02T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

That afternoon and all the next day the switchboard at the DSI police station in Thurston Meadows was jammed by dozens of agitated callers waiting to be put through. It seemed that everyone who had a grudge or an obsession or a paranoid delusion suddenly needed urgently to be heard. Some wanted their own personal hunches to be prioritised over all others and acted upon at once, threatening the police with ‘the media’ if they failed to act. Others wanted to issue lurid new death threats of their own against the deskies in general, against Burkitt personally or against sundry other named DSI employees. Another group again wanted to name names, accusing neighbours, ex-boyfriends, the boyfriends of ex-girlfriends of being responsible for the crime. And then there were those who had more elaborate charges to lay, and could prove beyond all doubt that Burkitt’s attackers, or the DSI, or Burkitt himself were in league with the Americans, Satan, foreigners or aliens from outer space.

And they didn’t just use the phone. In the waiting area by the duty desk still more accusers gathered, hissing and crackling and smouldering away like lit fireworks. They muttered and clutched dog-eared notebooks. They leapt up and sat down again. They craned their necks to see what was going on behind the toughened glass and peered with jealous and suspicious eyes at each new arrival coming in. News had happened. News had arrived in Thurston Meadows and they were all desperate to be a part of it.

Then Slug came in. His eyes red, his skin glistening with sweat, he burst into the office and straight away began thumping and banging on the glass.

‘Take a ticket please sir,’ said the duty officer, putting her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone. ‘You’ll be called when your number comes up. We’re very busy as you can see, so I’m afraid there’ll be a bit of a wait.’

‘I’m no’ waiting for nobody, alright? I need tae talk to the Immigration people and I need tae talk to them now.’

‘There’s other people before you, sir. If you just take a ticket, we’ll be along…’

But the desk sergeant looked over and saw straight away that this wasn’t going to work.

‘Can I just take your ID, sir?’ he asked, coming across to the window.

‘Never mind that. I need tae see the immigration people now.’

The sergeant tried the extension number for the office where Charles and his colleagues were temporarily based.

‘I’m very sorry, sir,’ he said, ‘but none of the Immigration people is available at the moment. Can you give me your name?’

‘Never mind my fucking name, pal. They’re going tae want to hear what I’ve got tae say to them. They’re going tae want to hear it very badly. Do you understand me? I want you tae call one ay them and tell him tae come back now.’

Eventually he was persuaded that he needed to talk to a policeman first so that they would know what to tell the Immigration people.

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