Dead Rite chapter 150.04

“You want the whip-round?”

“Yes, but donate it to the children's ward.” Beryl took a card from her purse. “I chair the support group for the hospital, Pity for Pity's We're always looking for ways to increase social funding for the patient's comfort.”

“Is that wise? The more you support the hospital with external funding the less they have to claim in funding from the government. It's self-defeating. The government looks at the hospital and says 'Look at the amount you're spendingon amenities. You don't need so much for your A&E department from up when you can stop supplitng gamepads to your children's ward.”

“That's always the argument people use against funding, love.” Beryl's mouth tightened. “What people don't see it the policy documents that detail the increased streamlining of the supplies. The hospital gets a five percent increase in funding but the cost of gauze rises by ten. Without community support the hospital will close. How would you feel taking your DV couple all the way to Salisbury for treatment?”

Acton sighed. “I see your point. I'd like to see the figures but I don't really have the time right now. Not with the studying.”

“Oh? Are you taking classes?”

“A master's degree in criminology.”

“Good for you.” Beryl looked down. “Did you hear that, Cameron. She's doing her master's degree.”

“Yes, I know.” White's smile was terse. “I approved the funds.”White looked back at Acton's two charges. The woman seemed to be whispering to the man and he nodded in their direction. “Your couple seem to have resolved their differences.”

Dead Rite chapter 150.03

“Besides, it's not sexist to call someone dozy.” White raised his voice to greet the constable. “DC Acton. What are you doing with a DA case?”

“Michael Grady and Mandy Cotman. We went to arrest him for that Laverstone Tech B&E and when we turned up they were at it hammers and tongs. By the time we used the big red key he'd slammed her face through the kitchen window and she'd stabbed him in the neck with the kitchen scissors. Not sure who started it by it was over a third party by the name of Maria-_”

“Stephanos. I know her well, but she's a working girl. I dubd she's got anything to do with the B&E.” White frowned. “What B&E at the Tech?”

“You were off on that mummified wife case, sir. There was a break-in at the computer lab and they had the whole lot stolen. Mickey's dabs were all over the scene and he still had the good in the back of his van. Doesn't do the college any good, mind, because they're all in evidence now but they can't claim on their insurance because we've recovered the stolen goods. They'll be without computers for the rest of the academic year.”

“Crime doesn't pay. Unfortunately, it's the victims who have to.”

“Isn't it always?” Acton smiled at Beryl and put her hand out. “You must be the long-suffering Mrs. White.”

“Call me Beryl, love. Everyone does.” They shook hands over the top of White's head. Looking up, he could see the fine golden hairs on Acton's arm. “I hope he's not giving you too many problems.”

“Nothing I can't handle.” She smiled and addressed him. “Good to see you released so soon, sir. I'll cancel the whip-round.”

“No need for hasty action, Constable.”

Dead Rite chapter 150.02

“Aye, Cap'n”

“Your Russian accent is rubbish, love.” He twisted to smile up at her to show the criticism was good-humoured.

“I'm just glad you're alive.” She leaned froward to kiss the top of his head again. “It's not like I don't get the reference, is it? We've been watching the same telly programs for almost years.” She resumed walking, crossing the concourse with its clutch of outpatients and accident victims.

“Wait!” White pointed to a couple sporting makeshift bandages with a female police officer standing next to them with a cup of tea from the cafeteria. “Take me over there.”

“You heard the doctor. Bed rest for three days followed by a week of light activities. He said nothing about interfering with uniform over what looks to be a domestic ABH case.”

“But that's DC Akins. The one we were talking about. I'd like your to meet her.”

“Why? I don't need to meet your officers. Apart from Simon. I like him.”

“It's more the point I want her to meet you. If you have a quiet word it'll nip any complaints about me in the bud.”

“Ooh, I should have known there was an ulterior motive.” She parked him at the end of a row of screwed-to-the-floor plastic chairs and beckoned at DC Atkins who seemed to be in a world of her own.

“You'll have to go over and give the dozy cow a nudge.”

“It's saying things like that that's kept you as a DI for the last fifteen years.” Beryl gave him a sharp nudge. “That brand of casual sexism went out with The Sweeney.”

“Oh, not to worry. The vic's spotted you signalling.”

Sure enough, the female of the couple caught DC Atkins' attention and pointed across to White and Beryl, whereupon she pulled out an earphone, spoke sharply to the couple and strode across the concourse toward them.

Dead Rire chapter 150.01

“Honestly, I'm quite capable of walking to the car.” White twisted his head and torso to see Beryl. “There's really no need for a wheelchair.”

“Hospital rules.” Beryl's mouth was a tight line of determination. “You heard the porter. They can't afford the liability if you fall. Either I push the wheelchair or he does. Your choice.”

“Hmph.” White folded his arms. “You, obviously. At least you wont indulge in patient-in-a-wheelchair races.”

“Of course not.” He felt her lips press against the top of his head and got a whiff of her perfume and face powder. “I couldn't compete with those fit young men.”

White frowned, detecting the teasing in her words but refusing to rise to the bait. “Just get on with it.”

“If you like, love. Sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea before you go?”

“No. The tea's rubbish here.”

“I meant from the café. There's one in reception and it's quite good.”

“No, thank you. I just want to get home.”

“Whatever you say, your Lordship.”

He lowered his voice. “I don't like hospitals. They're full of ill people. I'm always afraid I'm going to catch something whenever I come in here.”

“You had a heart attack, Cameron. It's nothing to be ashamed of.” They left the corridor and entered the large reception area which, thankfully, was under-utilised today. He'd seen it at night and that was a different story. He could smell bacon from the little café. He knew the tea was good there. The bacon, too. What he didn't want was for Beryl to know he used it so often the staff called him by name.

“Let's just get out of here.” He pointed forward like the captain of a starship. “Warp speed.”

Dead Rite chapter 148.11

“And twice as damned.” Harold rose to his feet and pointed at the door. “Do you think Hell will stand to have their plans thwarted? What will Jasfoup say when he hears about this? What will Lucifer say? To deny Hell their currency of trade? To deny them their reason for existence?”

“Hell has so many. They won't miss a few.”

“Is that what you think? How many hoarders wouldn't miss a part of their collection? How many philatelists would just shrug if a few of their first day covers didn't turn up? How many bars of gold would the Bank of England not mind going missing?”

“But it's only a delay. What's a hundred years to Hell? Or a thousand, for that matter?”

“Hardly the point, is it? By the same token you could ask the Prosecution Service if it matters that murderers have a few more years of family life between conviction and prison. Tell the family of a car accident fatality that the drunk driver who killed their daughter has been allowed to have a few more Friday Nights before they get sent down. That's what you're saying to Hell.”

“But what if they were good people?”

“There's no such thing, really.” Harold shook his head. “You don't get it, do you? Nobody goes to Heaven, and especially not the people who could afford the service you're proposing.”

“That's ridiculous.” Dill lifted his hands up only to drop them again. “Of course people go to Heaven. That's the whole point of believing in God.”

“People who believe that haven't read the Bible properly.” Harold wiped the argument from his face with his hands, the pressure from his fingertips distorting his features as he yawned. “Now, I don't know about you, but I need breakfast.”

Dead Rite chapter 148.10

“Is that ethical?” Harold wanted his breakfast but felt compelled to stay. “I mean, given that we've just established how wrong it would be to save people from needless premature death.”

“Ethical? From a humanist point of view I would say it was. From a religious point of view? I don't know. We're not denying the souls entry into their chosen afterlife, merely delaying it for an extended period.” He made a three-point vocal exhalation that Harold took for ironic laughter. “Listen to me talking about souls and afterlives. A week ago I was a confirmed atheist and now look at me.”

Harold nodded sagely. “Meeting a demon and becoming a zombie generally changes one's belief system, I find.”

“So it seems. Also vampires, magicians, imps and little souls locked up in boxes.”

“What did you mean about deferring afterlives?”

“Entropy, Harold. Entropy.” He held up his hands and waggled his fingers. “Look at me, for example. However versatile this body, it will degrade in weeks if not days. I'll have to design and build something more efficient. Latex, for example, or steel. If I can work out how to hold a form, perhaps I'll be able to inhabit a liquid like the terminators from the later movies. As for the production models, we'll make them degrade in a limited time. Five years, say, so the owners will be forced to purchase replacement bodies and upgrades from us. At a vastly inflated price, obviously.” He grinned. “We'll be bigger than Microsoft.”

Dead Rite chapter 148.09

“Well, obviously not, though there are plenty who'd like to get out of going to Hell.” Harold looked behind him, in case Jasfoup had materialised though the chances are he'd notice the smell (the demon was overly fond of a brand of deodorant last popular in the seventies) and lowered his voice. “It's really not very nice there. Unless you're a demon, obviously. Being born there does make it feel more wholesome, I suppose. One can't help loving one's homeland.”

“”Born there? I thought they...you know...” Dill made a falling motion with his hand the way a child might simulate a plane crash.

“Fell? Those are the original Third. The ones ejected from Heaven will never be at peace because they have been denied the Light. How would you feel if you'd spent your life in the sunshine and suddenly had to spend every waking hour cooped up underground?”

“I do, actually. It sucks like a lamprey.”

Harold frowned, not understanding the reference. “So yes, I agree with you. No golems. We'll keep it all a secret. Perhaps I should destroy the manuscript, too.”

“You do that.” Dill tapped his temple. “I've already memorised it, so you'll be doing me a favour by limiting exposure to it. Wouldn't want another company muscling in on the profits, would we?”

“We? What profits? I though we just agreed we shouldn't make any more golems?”

“No, you agreed that. I just said we shouldn't make golems for the masses. Sam and I had this plan to make exclusive soul housings for the very rich.” He lifted his hand to his face and turned it, admiring the construction. “Once I've got the design sorted out.”