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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] decorative. She curled on the end of Ax and Sage s couch (like the cat, ready to make herself scarce at a moment s notice). Fergal nodded to himself, and looked hard at his glass, but did not touch it. Now it s coming. ?Mr Dictator, ye ve got a problem. ?I have several, said Ax. ?Could you be more specific? ?How well d you know yer Prime Minister? Mr David Sale? Shit. ?We have a working relationship, said Ax, sedately. Fergal nodded, still with the air of someone weighing his words very carefully, hesitating over every step. ?But yez don t know him personally? ?I wouldn t say he s a personal friend. No. ?Did ye know he s a smack addict? Sage grinned. ?Yeah. He s a vegetarian an all. We try to be broadminded. ?It s not funny, Sage, said Fergal, reproachfully. ?Addiction s a big word, said Ax. ?I know David s using heroin a little; so do others. Personally, I don t like it: but it s not a guilty secret. ?Aye, well. What if I was to tell yez he was getting into something worse? Fergal reached for his bag, took out an envelope and drew from it several seven-by-ten monochrome prints. He laid them on the coffee table between the couches. A succession of images: groups of seemingly naked human figures, cavorting in a dark background. Closer shots of a white shape, a horse, on its knees, black blood gouting from its belly, and the most eager of the worshippers pressed around the killing. Some heads were circled and highlighted. Ax picked up the prints, one after another. One of the enhanced headshots, full face, and profile, was clearly recognisable as the English Prime Minister. ?What is this about? ?This is about the Celtics, said Fergal grimly. ?The folks that used to call themselves ?Ancient Britons?. There s a lot of this caper goes on in Ireland now. The soft end of it, the pilgrimages to the High Places, the feasts and the bonfires: an even the Catholic hierarchy, fer what their fockin opinion s worth, says it s fine and dandy. Something we never really should have left behind. Maybe so An maybe ye re going to tell me the English Cabinet is welcome to enjoy a Pagan ritual, along with a needle-full of Mother Comfort now and then. But however that may be, according to my information, yer Mr Sale has progressed to the harder stuff. Harder even than you see him here. ?What d you mean by that? ?Magic. ?Real magic? said Sage, taking up the pictures and frowning at them. ?I don t know what yez understands by the term, said Fergal. ?The blood sacrifice would be real. An effective, in that it brings us closer to what they want, which is the Dark Ages. How real do yez want it? Pagan sacrifice was one the problems that kept Ax awake at nights. The Celtics insisted they had a right to practise their religion, and it was difficult for him to deny that right, while avoiding an open split although the cruelty of the killings stuck in his throat. He had to leave it to the campground councils, he had to leave it to the hippies themselves to condemn the bloodthirsty extremists. But it was definitely not okay for the PM to go cavorting around bonfires. Animal sacrifice was seriously illegal. The fact that it happened, the fact that there were secret networks, Countercultural and others, who gathered for these blood-daubed raves, was a national scandal. Thank God it couldn t possibly be true. David Sale wouldn t be such an idiot It doesn t have to be true. My God. ?Are you trying to tell me these are genuine pap-shots of the English Prime Minister at a so called ?Celtic? animal sacrifice? ?Aye. ?Oh, give me a break! Ax dismissed the idea with a flick of his hand. ?I can see just by looking at them that these images have been faked to hell. I don t know who sold you this, but there s nothing in it. This isn t evidence! ?I niver said anything about evidence, said Fergal, with dignity. ?I should think a public enquiry s the last thing ye d be wanting. I said a problem. He stared hard at the Triumvirate, as if still trying to decide if he could trust them. ?I can t tell yez how I got hold of these. I don t precisely know where they came from, meself. But the pictures aren t all. According to me informants, Mr Sale knows a place where it goes beyond killin animals, an I can tell yez the where and when. They stared back at him, straight-faced. ?I don t believe you, said Ax. Fergal nodded. ?Aye. I can understand that. An I understand how ye ll feel [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |