Ray Sullivan SciFi Zone: Project: Evil - The Final Double Cross Meeting part 1

Brian shuffled nervously outside the grand shop window, jostling with the assembled shoppers as they stood trying to calculate the number of armadillo gonads. One of the shoppers turned to Brian excitedly, his collar turned up against the chill winter wind, a trilby managing to stay firmly on his head despite the efforts of the weather.

‘One hundred pounds, just for guessing how many gonads are in there,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It’s got to be better odds than entering the national lottery,’ he added. Brian shrugged, there didn’t seem to be anything difficult in choosing six numbers from an infinite amount plucked from the real and complex planes; it was just the logistics of filling in the Lotto gameplay ticket since CERN had taken over the running that provided any challenge. The last time he’d played the ticket had run to seventeen volumes, but at least they’d stuck with the tried and tested method of letting the punter tick their choices with a pencil. Scientific notation was so difficult to write accurately, in Brian’s experience.

‘So, have you made a guess?’ he asked, not really interested. The excited shopper wasn’t finished with his muse, though.

‘Apparently they were harvested to provide a cure for cancer or the common cold or something like that, but then someone hit on this idea,’ he said, pointing at the huge jar. Brian looked again and realised for the first time since he’d agreed to let Bund provide a way for him to steal the gonads that fifty thousand was an awfully large amount of testicles, even at armadillo sizes. His plan had been to park outside the store, walk in, pick up the jar and take it out. Now it looked like he’d need a forklift truck to remove the jar. As he only had one O’Feld printed blue invalid pass he couldn’t manage two vehicles.

‘We were as good as our word,’ said a familiar voice alongside Brian. He looked at the man he’d been talking to again. The man raised his trilby, which Brian now realised was attached to the false collar which also raised, revealing a black dinner jacket and bow tie.

‘Bund!’ he exclaimed, marvelling at the disguise. As Bund lowered the hat back into position Brian realised that he could have spoken with the man all day long and not work out which secret agent he was, the disguise was that good.

‘The very same,’ confirmed Bund, rattling his walking stick. ‘I notice you managed to park outside the store,’ he said, nodding at Brian’s car. ‘Another blue badge?’ he asked, not waiting for an answer before adding, ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any more?’

‘What the hell are you doing with all of them?’ asked Brian, outraged, ‘are you selling them on?’ Bund flushed. ‘And where did you get that from? I thought the flushable trousers were my idea, did you nick that as well?’ he asked. Bund shook his head.

‘I think you’ll find the trousers are self flushing. Kew has patented the whole concept, by the way, so we will expect O’Feld to pay a royalty on every pair you use.’ It was Brian’s turn to flush; since Daw had taken up his offer, everyone on the management team had ordered a pair. The fees were likely to be astronomical and this expense payment was likely to be life threatening. Bund continued. ‘Of course I’m selling the blue passes; we haven’t had a pay increase in the public sector since 2007. I’ll cut you in on the proceeds if you can supply ten a day.’

‘Never mind that, how do we get them gonads out of there?’ asked Brian, pointing at the window. Bund peered at the glass jar as if he’d never seen it before.

‘Ask them how much they want for the jar,’ he said. Brian looked at the man as if he was mad; it was a shame this was Bund’s retirement case, someone as obviously unhinged could have a bright future at O’Feld Industries.

‘You think they will just sell me a jar of gonads placed in the window as a charity item? What sort of crooks do you think they are?’ he exclaimed.

‘Who said they were crooks? This is Knightsbridge; everything is for sale, for a price. Just make sure you offer enough.’

‘So that I don’t insult them?’ asked Brian, wondering how he could judge this one.

‘That’s pretty much impossible,’ mused Bund, ‘we’re talking about upmarket sales-persons here. They’re the retail equivalent of investment bankers. Elephants have thinner skins. No, your problem is the couple who were stood the other side of me – once they realised that this was a unique collection that couldn’t ever be repeated they decided they just had to have it,’ he said as a sales assistant appeared at the window and looked back to an unseen couple, the words ‘this one?’ mouthed silently through the glass.

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The characters, companies and places referred to in Project: Evil are fictitious and any resemblance to people, companies, businesses or places is entirely coincidental

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