The watcher-through-the-keyhole nodded and took the money. He counted it. “Could be djinn,” he said as he did. “Fire’s what’s coming. Maybe someone arsed them off.”
“Djinn?”
“Yeah.” He tapped the keyhole. “That’s the thinking. Fires, you know. Anything you remember never been there, all of a sudden?”
“What?” she said.
“Things are going up in fire and never been there.” When she looked no wiser he said, “There was a warehouse in Finchley. Round between the bath shop and the Pizza Hut. I know there was because I used to go there and because I’ve seen it.” He tap-tapped his eyepiece again. “But ‘seen it’ butters no bleeding parsnips these days. That warehouse burnt down, and now it didn’t ever was there. The bath shop and the Pizza Hut are joined up now, and the only ash blowing around there’s a bit of charred never.
“Burnt out backward.” He headed into another room, raising his voice so she could still hear. “They can’t get it out of everyone’s head yet, but it’s a start. There’ll be more, bet you a thousand quid. Might be that’s what you’re up against.”
“Might be.”
“I mean we’re all up against it but most of us aren’t out hunting for trouble. Anyway that ain’t the only apocalypse right now. You’ll have a choice soon enough. Which is bloody ridiculous.” He returned and threw an iPod to Marge. It was scratched, well used. An older model.
“I’ve got one,” she said.
“Ha ha yourself. Put it on but don’t turn it on, not yet. Wait till you’re out there in the world.”
“What have I got? Bit of Queen?”
“Yeah, ‘Fat-Bottomed Girls’ and ‘Bicycle.’ I don’t know what you’re going up against any more than you, so this is a bit all-purpose and you better be gentle with it. It should give you a little bit”-he held his finger and thumb apart an inch-“if it is djinn, and a little bit if it’s herders, or gunfarmers or Chaos Nazis or anyone else up and about-you hear all bloody sorts-or whatever of your multiple-choice end-times is coming. But don’t push your luck.”
“What do you mean multiple choice?” she said.
“There’s two on the way, turns out, is what I hear. One of which may or may not be the fire. Can you Adam and Eve that? So to speak. Some animal Ragnarok plus some other awful bloody thing.”
“What do you mean, animal?” she said. “What do you mean?”
“In a minute. Listen.” He pointed at the machine he had given her. “You’ve got a little guardchord, is all. It’s in there. Swimming about in the noise, and if you listen to it it’ll keep you safe. A bit. So you better hope you like it and don’t let anyone else listen. If you sniff trouble play it. Just play it all the time, sod it. Keep the bloody thing charged. Keep it fed.”
“What does it eat?”
“Music, gods’ sake. Put some playlists on there. Make sure you give it what it likes.”
“How do I know?”
“Never had a pet? Work it out.”
“How strong is-?”
“Not bloody very. You’re flying blind, like we all are. It’s a lick and a prayer and a spit of goodwill, so don’t piss and moan.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Alright.”
“It might give you a bit of time to get away from whatever, is all. Think of it as a head start for when you run. ’Cause let’s face it, you’ll run.”
“What did you mean about the choice?” she said to the seeing man.
He shrugged. “There’s way too many ends-of-the-world to keep up with, but this is the first conjunction I can remember in a long while. Seems like it’s animals and puritans, this time. Right now with all this going on. Seems a bit-”
“Animals?”
“Some animal god, they reckon-that’s what you hear, that’s what I see.” Tap-tap on the keyhole. “We’ll find out soon enough. I might not miss this one. Takes more than an apocalypse to get me into town these days, but two…? Right now? You should, though. Miss it, I mean.”
“I can’t. That sounds like what… people’ve been waiting for. And anyway, what with my little…” She shook her iPod, and he his head.
“It’ll just give you time to run,” he said.
“About that,” she said. Her mouth moved, but no sound came for a moment. “One thing I might have to get away from… Can this, can the music-thing you… I might see Goss and Subby.”
She waited for those names to do their bad magic. For the man to gasp. He only looked sad and winced.
“I know,” he said. “Think you get to be on that sort of shitlist and people don’t hear? That’s why you should stay away.”
“This, though?” she said, raising the iPod. “It’ll help, if I do… if they…”
“Against them?” he said flatly. “That thing? No it won’t. It won’t do nothing.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she said at last. “I’ll be careful. Still if… if you could please give me the details of those, of the animal Armageddon… I think someone I know might be there.”
Chapter Sixty
ON THE CAMPUS OF THE SUBURBAN UNIVERSITY, BILLY AND Dane’s vaguely purposeful scruffiness was camouflage. It had not taken long at an Internet café to check which room was Professor Cole’s. They knew his office hours, too.
While they were online Billy had poked around to find and check Marge’s MySpace. He saw the picture of Leon, the call for help, the number that was not her number, must be some dedicated phone. It shocked him how much it made emotion fill him. He printed more than one copy.
“If this bloke’s such a powerful knacker,” said Billy, “why’s he work at Shitechester Central Poly? And is it not a bit nuts for us to go up against him?”
“Who said we was going up against anyone?” said Dane. “Is that the plan? We’re just looking for information.”
“We might. Like you said, it sounds like this might all be down to him. The fire, the everything. So what can we-”
“Yeah. I know. We might.”
Wati would not come. The strike was dying, and even now his first allegiance had to be to his members.
“We don’t have time to wait. We have to find out whatever there is to find out,” Dane said. “This is the first lead we’ve had. So yeah.” That long stare had come with him out of the basement. “We do what we have to, and we be ready.”
Every one of their moves now might plausibly be the last, but they could not do everything, could not take care of all business. They did their best, just in case there was an aftermath. Dane spoke to rabbi Mo, a quick connection through stolen phones. Simon was curing. They were purging him of all those angry ex-hims. “He’s drained and weak, but he’s getting better,” he said she had said. “Good.” As if it were likely that it would, ultimately, make a difference.
Billy and Dane waited in the corridor, forcing smiles when Cole’s secretary, a middle-aged woman, and the three students waiting glanced at them curiously. Cole must have protections. They had made what desperate plans they could. When at last the student who had been with the professor left the room, they walked to the head of the waiting line. “You don’t mind, do you?” Billy said to the young man in front. “It’s really important.”
“Hey, there’s like a queue?” the boy whined, but that was all he did. Billy wondered passing if he had been so feeble at that age.
They entered, and Cole looked up. “Yes…?” he said. He was a middle-aged man in an ugly suit. He frowned at them. He was cave-pale, and his eyes were shaded ridiculously dark. “Who…?” His stare widened and he stood, grabbing at the clutter on his desk as he came. Billy saw papers, journals, books open. A photo of a young girl in school uniform between Cole and a bonfire.
“Professor,” said Dane, smiling, holding out his hand. Billy closed the door behind them. “We had a question.”
Cole’s face went between expressions. He hesitated and took Dane’s hand in his shaking own. Dane twisted and pulled him down.