waved a leaflet above his head, dancing an odd jig that involved twirling his wrists and clicking his heels.
“Happy voting!” he declared to the bemused man hurrying past him. “Place your finger in a voting nature on the button for Signor Viggo, the finest gentleman in the whole of old Eng-er-land!”
The man hunched his shoulders and scurried to the registration table, while Felix and Georgie burst out laughing.
“You can’t do that!” Georgie protested, her giggles telling a different story.
“Votes might win an election,” Felix said grandly, “but make people laugh and you rule the world.”
Georgie shook her head in despair.
“If you had me at every polling station all over the country,” said Felix, “we’d win this, no problem.”
“Or we’d all get put in a loony bin.”
“That, my friend,” Felix replied, grandly, “is entirely possible.”
Jimmy stalked in front of the giant window on the top floor of Viggo’s headquarters, glimpsing London through the gaps in the blind. The vertical slats were beginning to feel like iron bars. He’d watched the lights come on as the afternoon faded into evening, and now the darkness seemed stronger than the illumination, as if it was creeping across the whole city, smothering the place completely.
Two copies of The Times lay on the sofa behind him, folded open to the puzzles. There was no message yet from Eva. It was too soon, and he knew that, but he’d still used the puzzles to find the message board and checked for messages every hour. It was as if his body relished the new element to his routine.
A message would come eventually. Jimmy had confidence in Eva. The only question was whether it would come too late. Despite his desperate attempts to find a doctor, and his near-obsession with learning about the effects of radiation, he had to admit he had no idea what it was doing to him.
All he had to go on was what he could see and what he could feel. His head was pounding and his muscles felt weaker than he’d ever known them to be. He flexed his fingers instinctively but closed his eyes, forcing himself not to examine them again. The blue stain made him feel like he’d dipped his hands in pure terror and couldn’t wash it away.
Now it was all he could see, as if the radiation gripped his brain and shifted every image into the shape of death. There was no comfort in the blackness. Yet Jimmy had been alone with the shadows all day, and now late into the night. He was the only one who was still being actively pursued by NJ7. Even standing this close to the window was a risk – if the Government had the building under observation, which was almost certain, Jimmy knew that advanced imaging techniques might pick out his silhouette and enable them to identify him.
I’ll be ready for them, he heard himself thinking. A rush of adrenalin fizzed through his body. But was it adrenalin, or his programming eager for action? Jimmy pictured millions of tiny tigers charging through his blood, with his body as nothing but a giant cage.
A flash made Jimmy open his eyes. Something had reflected off the window of a passing vehicle, and even with his eyes closed his retina was so sensitive he’d been aware of the change. At the very edge of the room, his back to the wall, Jimmy peeked out of the window, down to the street.
Lights. At the front of the building, right by the main gate, was a TV news van. Whatever they were filming was obscured by the trees and the top of the security fence.
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