The Bad Book Affair: A Mobile Library Mystery by Ian Sansom Read Free Book Online Page A

dull. Ted was right. At thirty you have lost touch forever with the great and the good and the rich and the famous—the simple fact is, you do not move and you do not shake. At thirty there’s no way you’re going to start behaving like…whoever the hell it was, it didn’t matter, because in fact you’re just a half-decent butcher or a baker or a candlestick-maker, or even a librarian, let’s say, for the sake of argument, a mobile librarian named Israel Armstrong, on the northernmost coast of the north of the north of Ireland, and your whole life—let’s just pretend, for who could possibly imagine a life of such inanity and nullity?—is preoccupied with cataloguing, and shelving, and making sure you remember to switch off the lights before you go home to the pathetic little converted chicken coop—imagine!—where you live on a farm—oh god—in the middle of themiddle of nowhere around the back of beyond, and your idea of a good time is coming here to Zelda’s to drink ersatz coffee with elderly men and women in car coats…
    Basically, his life was over.
    “Israel?” said Ted.
    Israel did not answer.
    “Hey?” Ted clicked his fingers in front of Israel’s face. “Wakey wakey.”
    “What?” said Israel.
    “Ye eatin’ your scone?” said Ted.
    “I suppose,” said Israel, as though a scone were all he deserved in life. “What is it today?”
    “Bacon and cheese,” said Ted.
    “Oh god. Not again. Why do they do that? That’s not a scone!”
    “That’s a scone and a half,” said Ted.
    “Exactly: that’s lunch,” said Israel.
    “Ye not having it then?”
    “I’m a vegetarian! How many times do I have to tell you!”
    “Can veggetenarians not eat scones?”
    “ Vege- tarians,” said Israel.
    “I didn’t know they couldn’t eat scones.”
    “Not with bacon in they can’t.”
    “Aye, well,” said Ted, reaching across. “There we are, now.”
    Minnie bustled over with the coffee pot.
    “Refill?”
    Israel took a hasty sip of coffee.
    “It tastes off,” he said grumpily.
    “What does?” said Minnie.
    “The coffee,” said Israel.
    “It doesn’t.”
    “Coffee can’t go off,” said Ted.
    “The milk can.”
    “Our milk is not off,” said Minnie.
    Israel sniffed the milk in the jug.
    “It’s fine,” said Ted.
    “It must be the coffee then,” said Israel. “It has a sort of fishy smell. Is this an americano? Are you using that chicory stuff again?”
    “Ach,” said Minnie, “the machine’s not working.”
    “That machine has never been working,” said Israel.
    “It has, so it has,” said Minnie.
    “When?”
    “It’s usually working.”
    “Not since I’ve been living here.”
    “How long have you been living here?” said Ted, in an accusatory fashion.
    “Long enough,” said Israel.
    “Aye,” said Ted.
    “Life sentence,” said Israel.
    “Ooh, did you see Prison Break , Ted?” said Minnie.
    “That the one with the tattooed fella?”
    “Aye.”
    “Was it on last night?”
    “Aye.”
    “I think I Sky-plussed it. I was watching this program last night about the American security services on the History Channel.”
    “Ooh. Really? Was it any good?”
    “In America,” said Ted, raising his fingers as though about to conduct. “In America, they have sixteen security agencies.”
    “Sixteen?” said Minnie, impressed.
    “I bet you didn’t know that, now, did you?” Ted said to Israel.
    “No, I must admit, I didn’t—”
    “There’s the CIA,” said Ted.
    “Oh god,” said Israel. “Are you going to—”
    “The FBI. The NSA.”
    “Never heard of it,” said Israel.
    “National Security Agency,” said Minnie.
    “How do you know that?” said Israel.
    “The Defense Intelligence Agency,” said Ted, counting on his fingers. And…some others.”
    “Drugs Enforcement Administration?” said Minnie.
    “Aye, that’s one,” said Ted.
    “How the hell did you know that?” said Israel.
    “Sure, wasn’t Denzel Washington in one of