A Hard Day's Knight by Simon R. Green Read Free Book Online Page A

Marianne Faithfull was the lead singer in the Rolling Stones; Dolly Parton sang opera; and the Elvis Twins sang Country & Western. And Kate Bush fronted Rockbitch.
    Then there was Martin Broome, fat and prosperous and perspiring heavily, who specialised in strange food and weird dishes from Earths where human biology was not so much different as downright eccentric. Broome offered dishes with different trace elements and altered isomers; eat as much as you like and never put on an ounce because your body doesn’t recognise it as food. Very popular, and very highly priced. And absolutely no warnings about possible side effects, such as bloating, anal leakage, sudden meltdowns in the night, and occasional spontaneous combustion.
    And, of course, there was Esmeralda Corr, tall and willowy in flapping silks, who provided exotic perfumes from exotic sources, like moss from the canals of Mars, fungi squeezings from sunken R’Lyeh, and musk glands from extinct animals. They all smelled the same to me, but then, I’m a man.
    Orbison finally took the lead and fixed me with his usual watery-eyed stare. “You’re who the Authorities sent? You’re the new Walker? I can feel my palpitations coming on. Well, don’t just stand there! You’ve got to do something, Taylor! People want to shop! All the time we’re standing round here, we’re losing money!”
    “You’ll be losing that finger if you keep prodding it in my direction,” I said.
    Oribison was overcome with a sudden modesty and insisted on falling back. Esmeralda Corr immediately took his place, hands on hips and pointing her prominent bosoms at me like loaded weapons. “What are you going to do, Taylor? I think we have a right to be consulted before you undertake any operation that might put our livelihoods at risk!”
    “I’m more concerned with lives than livelihoods,” I said. “What is that perfume you’re wearing? Is it actually legal to smell like that in public? Step back a few paces. A few more ... Right. I’m here to shut the soulbomb down. That’s all you need to know. Now, have any of you upset anyone recently? More than usual, I mean. Someone who might bear a grudge?”
    They all looked at each other, and there was much averting of eyes and general shrugging. No-one had to say anything. Business was business in the Nightside, and devil take the hindmost. Sometimes literally. But after a certain amount of nudging, elbowing, and general intimidation, Broome was finally moved to admit that they had no-one special in mind. There had been no advance warning, no threats or ransom demands, and no-one had come forward to claim responsibility. The bomber was a complete stranger to all of them. He’d walked into the mall and threatened to blow up his soul.
    They all turned their best business-like glares on me. They’d done all that could be reasonably expected of them, their glares implied, and now it was up to me. So if anything went wrong, it was all my fault. But there was a certain expectant look to them as well because I was the new Walker, and they were curious to see if I was up to it. I was curious, too.
    Walker had only been dead for a few hours; but everyone knew. News travels fast in the Nightside, especially bad news.
    I walked through the crowd, and it opened up to let me pass. It had all gone very quiet. Except for the bookmakers, who were already offering odds.
     
     
    I strolled under the huge M and E that marked the main entrance to the mall, and a whole new world opened up before me. Shops and businesses, chains and franchises, speciality stores and perv parlours stretched away before me, for just a bit further than the eye could comfortably see. Corridors and passageways branched and separated, and stilled elevators led up to more floors and even more wonders and marvels, all major credit cards accepted. There was a map floating on the air in the lobby, a huge 3D hologram affair of such complexity that staring at it long enough could