Odds and Gods by Tom Holt Read Free Book Online Page A

’
    ‘My mum’s, of course.’
    ‘Ah,’ said Osiris. ‘Right.’
     
    ‘Is there somebody in there?’
    The first thug, who was of course a doctor and therefore well aware of which of the small bones in his hand he’d broken while banging furiously on the door, stopped hammering and yelled, ‘Yes! Let us out!’
    There was a pause.
    ‘Are you a doctor?’ said the voice.

    ‘What do you mean,’ said Julian, ‘escaped?’
    The first thug pressed a coin into the slot, taking advantage of the hiatus in the conversation to choose his words with care. ‘He got away,’ he said. ‘One of the nurses locked us in a cupboard. When we got out . . .’ He shuddered. It had taken a long time, and he was still getting nightmare flashbacks from the conversation he’d had with Minerva through the door. ‘When we got out, he wasn’t in his room. We searched the whole place from top to bottom. He’s legged it.’
    ‘Wheeled it,’ suggested his colleague, shortly before collapsing against the side of the phone booth with severe abdominal pains. Since he was of course a doctor, he could have told you the technical name for them.
    ‘You buggered it up, you mean?’
    ‘Yes,’ admitted the first doctor; then, recalling who he was talking to, added, ‘without prejudice, of course.’
    ‘Fine,’ said Julian, after a while. ‘I do hope for your sakes that you’re heavily insured, because I happen to specialise in medical negligence claims.’
    ‘Hey,’ said the second thug, grabbing the receiver, ‘that’s not fair, we were only . . . Why are you laughing?’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Julian replied, ‘it’s that word you just said, fair. Always has that effect on me. Now listen, you find him and get him committed like immediately, or the two of you’ll find yourselves having trouble getting work as snake oil salesmen, let alone doctors, kapisch?’
    ‘Now hang about,’ shouted the second doctor, and the pips went.
    ‘Damn,’ said his colleague. ‘Now what do we do?’
    ‘What the man says would be favourite. Any idea how we go about it?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘And you call yourself a doctor.’
    ‘Shut up.’

    Situated in its own extensive grounds among acres of rolling cloudland, Sunnyvoyde commands extensive views over three galaxies, but is a bit of a cow to get to if you have to rely on public transport. Add a wheelchair into the equation, and x suddenly equals extreme difficulty.
    ‘You’re sure there’s a bus?’ Osiris demanded. He was starting to feel the cold.
    ‘Of course there’s a bus. How do you think I get to work every day?’
    ‘And what is a bus exactly?’ Osiris wrinkled his omniscient brow. ‘I mean, I’ve heard of them, of course, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one. After my time, really.’
    Sandra blew on her hands and jumped up and down until the sensation of a cloud wobbling under her feet got too much for her. ‘It’s a sort of square box,’ she replied, ‘with a wheel at each corner and seats inside.’
    ‘It’s a box you go inside?’
    ‘That’s it.’
    ‘Ah. You mean a coffin.’
    ‘No. Coffins don’t have wheels.’
    ‘Bet?’
    ‘It’s bigger than a coffin.’
    ‘Bigger than a large coffin?’
    ‘You can judge for yourself.’
    Exactly on time, the bus drew up and stood for a moment, its engine running and doors closed, as if it was catching its breath. ‘Have you,’ Sandra asked, ‘got any money for the fare?’
    ‘Money?’
    ‘Round flat metal discs with someone’s head on one side and—’
    ‘I mean,’ replied Osiris irritably, ‘I didn’t know you had to pay to go on these things. Yes, thank you. Would two gold pieces cover it, do you think?’
    ‘I would imagine so.’
    ‘Hold on, then.’
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘It’s a bit,’ Osiris grunted, ‘like I imagine putting contact lenses in must be. Come on, you little - oh blast, I’ve dropped one.’
    ‘No,’ Sandra explained patiently, ‘you don’t have to put them on