Nymphomation by Jeff Noon

Author:Jeff Noon [Noon, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780552999069
Google: VhINAAAACAAJ
Goodreads: 92122
Publisher: Jeff Noon
Published: 2013-07-18T14:00:00+00:00

Play to win

A hearty five-course meal did wonders for the suit’s stomach, if nothing for his afternoon duties. He slept for an hour or so in his private office. Maybe that second bottle of wine was a mistake. Still, it was all on expenses. Waste not, want not. Ah, what the fuck! The whole day had been a waste of time from beginning to end.

It was those kids that spoiled it for me. Threw me off course, didn’t they? I’ve a good mind to…

In fact, I will.

The suit then called a good friend (and guzzling partner) of his, an Inspector Crawl of the Manchester Police Department.

Tramps were scum, and all this official hole business was just a clean-up operation: keep them off the street, keep them in a hole, under control. That was the party line and the suit didn’t expect much interest from Crawl, but as soon as their names were mentioned the inspector went into launch sequence.

‘What were those names again?’ he demanded.

‘Irwell, Edward. Hobart, Celia. That’s what I got from the blurb anyway.’

‘That’s them! That’s him, I mean. The AnnoDoms had us arrest him last night, for cheating at the game. Fucking tramp scumbag, wouldn’t talk, would he. Tried everything. I even broke the law a few times. Nothing doing. Zilcho. Blank as the Joker’s nipples. And get this, the guy had a ton of punies on him. Only won a half-cast hadn’t he. The third time, as well, and he claims he’s not cheating. Took it off him, of course. Police fund. Needy cause.’

‘You should’ve let him go. Crawl. Let the people take care of him.’

‘Wanted to, didn’t I? Instead I had to ferry him over to the House of Chances this afternoon. They’re gonna stick some probes in him, or something.’

‘Sounds like fun.’

‘Doesn’t it? So who were these kids after him?’

‘Don’t know. Blurb couldn’t tell me.’

‘They’re on to something, whatever it is. Cheetham Hill, you say. Give us the hole’s address. H.P. Sauce? I know that bastard. Pulled him up a few times, begging without a hole. He’ll talk. Maybe I’ll check it out tonight, if no murders come in. Be nice to get in the domdom’s good book.’

‘Aye. Whoever let those boneheads into Manchester, they want probing.’

‘It was your lot, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s what I mean. And I’m sitting on the thick end.’

‘Ouch!’

The inspector went back to shuffling some papers around his desk. Mainly though, he spent the hours fondling his choices. How he loved to watch those little numbers throb. Special rate for the cops. Nice. How he loved the thought of getting kissed by Lady Luck. He was on until midnight. Graveyard watch. Years to go. Maybe he should get some burgers in. Special rate for the cops. Very nice. But the phone rang before he could lift it.

Hope this isn’t serious.

It was. It was the Company. Annie Domidum. Edward Irwell (NFA) had been probed and found innocent. He was most probably working with an accomplice…

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