Today's Reading
I have been half in love with easeful death
— John Keats
CHAPTER ONE
Poultry in Motion
Atherton stopped in the CID room doorway, ran a finger round his collar and said, 'Phew, is it handsome in here, or is it just me?'
Swilley didn't look up. 'Nobody missed you, Jim. Nobody at all.'
Gascoyne said, 'How was Portofino?'
'Transcendental,' said Atherton.
'He means nice,' Jenrich translated.
'No, I mean we contemplated our navels. Or, to be accurate, each other's.'
'TMI,' Swilley grunted.
'You're not very brown,' Fathom complained.
'We didn't go outside much. Anything interesting happen while I was away?'
'The coffee machine broke down,' Fathom said thoughtfully. 'But it turned out it was the fuse in the plug.'
'And I missed that! I'm never taking a holiday again.'
'Nat and me are thinking of going to Las Vegas,' McLaren said, unwrapping the foil from a salami sandwich from home.
'Why? You hate gambling,' Atherton said.
'He bets on the ponies all the time,' Fathom objected.
'That's not gambling; that's science,' McLaren corrected him. 'Anyway, Nat's always wanted to go. She wants to play the slots.'
'It's very uxorious of you to agree,' Atherton said. 'There's not much else to do there, you know. Apart from eat. The casinos give out free food to tempt you to play.'
McLaren brightened. 'Free food?'
'But mostly fried stuff. No vegetables. Just meat, bread and chips, generally covered in gloopy cheese. What am I saying? Go! You can comfort-eat to your heart's content. Though of course your heart's 'con'tent is likely to be the problem.'
'What are you talking about?' McLaren asked, baffled.
'I'll go and speak to the boss now,' Atherton excused himself.
The door from the CID room to DCI Slider's office was open, and Slider was at his desk working his way through a mountain of paperwork—or at least the foothills. He looked up as Atherton appeared in the doorway. 'I heard,' he said. 'Portofino was nice. Like the zen dentist who refused novocaine, you managed to transcend dental medication.'
'Ah, that's what I've missed about this place,' Atherton said. 'The zippy come-back. The ready wit. So nothing's happened?'
'It's August. I'm actually catching up,' Slider said, gesturing at the files on his desk. 'I've reached the Cameron years. How many PMs ago was that?'
Atherton took his usual position, sitting on the windowsill above the cold radiator. It hadn't worked since the first moon landings. Some religious sects believed that if it ever came on again, the world would end. 'Everything all right at home? No major traumas?'
He had left his Siameses, Sredni Vashtar and Tiglath Pileser, with Slider while he and Stephanie went on holiday.
'Apart from doing the Wall of Death round and round the house at two in the morning? And pulling the pelmet off the wall?'
Atherton clutched his cheeks. 'They're hooligans, I know. I'll pay.'
'No need. Dad screwed it back up. George has enjoyed having them. They do more interesting things than Jumper.'
'Interesting? That's one way to put it. How did Jumper cope in the end?' Jumper was Slider's ordinary, common cat. When Atherton had brought his two round, there had been bristling and hissing and tails in bloom.
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