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being inoperative if his officers act outside their jurisdiction.
 Same old shit.
 That s what I told him. I ve got most of the office readingJane Eyre at the
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moment in case anything unusual happens  all quiet so far.
 It s only a matter of time.
 Hmm.
 Mller mentioned Hades being at Penderyn somewhere, I said to Victor.
 Anything come of that?
 Nothing that I know of. Schitt said he had looked into it and drawn a blank
 there are over three hundred possible Penderyns that Mller might have
meant. More worrying, have you seen this morning s paper?
I hadn t. He showed me the inside front page ofThe Mole . It read:
Troop Movements
Near Welsh Border
I read on with some alarm. Apparently there had been troop movements
nearHereford , Chepstow and the disputed border town ofOswestry . A military
spokesman had dismissed the maneuvers as simple  exercises, but it didn t
sound good at all. Not at all. I turned to Victor.
 Jack Schitt? Do you think he wants the Prose Portal badly enough to go to
war withWales ?
 Who knows what power the Goliath Corporation wields. He might not be behind
this at all. It could be coincidence or just saber-rattling; but in any event
I don t think we can ignore it.
 Then we need to steal a march. Any ideas?
 What did Mller say again? asked Finisterre.
I sat down.
 He screamed:  He s at Penderyn ; nothing else.
 Nothing else? asked Bowden.
 No; when Schitt asked himwhich Penderyn he meant, as there must be hundreds,
Mller told him to guess.
Bowden spoke up.
 What were hisprecise words?
 He said  Guess, then repeated it but it turned into a yell  he was in
grave pain at the time. The conversation was recorded but there is about as
much chance as getting hold of that as 
 Maybe he meant something else.
 Like what, Bowden?
 I really only speak tourist Welsh but  Gwesty means hotel.
 Oh my God, said Victor.
 Victor? I queried, but he was busy rummaging in a large pile of maps we had
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accumulated; each of them had a Pen-deryn of some sort marked on it. He spread
a large street plan ofMerthyr Tydfil out on the table and pointed at a place
just between the Palace of justice and Government House. We craned to see
where his finger was pointing but the location was unmarked.
 The Penderyn Hotel, announced Victor grimly.  I spent my honeymoon there.
Once the equal of the Adelphi or Raffles, it s been empty since the sixties.
IfI wanted a safe haven 
 He s there, I announced, looking at the map of the Welsh capital city
uneasily.  That s where we ll find him.
 And how do you suppose we ll manage to enter Wales undetected, make our way
into a heavily guarded area, snatch My-croft and the manuscript and get out in
one piece? asked Bowden.  It takes a month to even get a visa!
 We ll find a way in, I said slowly.
 You re crazy! said Victor.  Braxton would never allow it!
 That s where you come in.
 Me? Braxton doesn t listen tome .
 I think he s about to start.
28
Jane Eyre
Jane Eyrewas published in 1847 under the pseudonym Currer Bell, a suitably
neuter name that disguised Charlotte Bront s sex. It was a great success;
William Thackeray described the novel as  The master work of a great genius.
Not that the book was without its critics: G. H. Lewes suggested thatCharlotte
should study Austen s work and  correct her shortcomings in the light of that
great artist s practice. Charlotte replied that Miss Austen s work was barely
 in the light of what she wanted to do  a novel at all. She referred to it
as  a highly cultivated garden with no open country. The jury is still out.
W. H. H. F. Renouf  The Bronts
HOBBES SHOOK his head in the relative unfamiliarity of the corridors
ofRochester  s home, Thornfield Hall. It was night and a deathly hush had
descended on the house. The corridor was dark and he fumbled for his torch. A
glimmer of orange light stabbed the darkness as he walked slowly along the
upstairs hall. Ahead of him he could see a door which was slightly ajar,
through which showed a thin glimmer of candlelight. He paused by the door and
peered around the corner. Within he could see a woman dressed in tatters and
with wild unkempt hair pouring oil from a lantern onto the covers under
whichRochester lay asleep. Hobbes got his bearings; he knew that Jane would
soon be in to put out the fire, but from which door he had no way of knowing.
He turned back into the corridor and nearly leaped out of his skin as he came
face to face with a large, florid-looking woman. She smelled strongly of
drink, had an aggressive countenance and glared at him with thinly disguised
contempt. They stood staring at each other for some moments, Hobbes wondering
what to do and the woman wavering slightly, her eyes never leaving his. Hobbes
panicked and went for his gun, but with wholly unlikely speed the woman caught
his arm and held it pinched so tightly that it was all he could do to stop
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yelling out in pain.
 What are you doing here? she hissed, one eyebrow twitching. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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