Page 145 of Lost in a Good Book (Thursday Next 2)

I paused, turned and stood up. But Cordelia wasn't with any other SpecOps types – she was with a man and his young daughter, the winners of her competition. Perhaps things were not quite as bad as I thought. I put my arm around her shoulder and walked her out of earshot.

'Cordelia—'

'Dilly.'

'Dilly—'

'Yes, Thurs?'

'What's the word over at SpecOps?'

'Well, darling,' answered Cordelia, 'the order for your arrest is still only within SpecOps – Flanker is hoping you'll give yourself up. Goliath are telling anyone who will listen that you stole some highly sensitive industrial secrets.'

'It's all bullshit, Cordelia.'

'I know that, Thursday. But I've a job to do – are you going to meet my people now?'

I agreed, and we returned to where the two of them were looking at a brochure for the Gravitube.

'Thursday Next, this is David Graham and his daughter, Molly.'

I shook hands with David; Molly stared at me dubiously from behind his leg, clutching a soft toy.

'I'd invite you in for a coffee,' I explained, 'but I've locked myself out.'

David rummaged in his pocket and produced a set of keys.

'Are these yours? I found them on the path outside.'

'I don't think that's very likely.'

But they were my keys – a set I had lost a few days earlier. I unlocked the door.

'Come on in. That's Pickwick. Stay away from the windows; there are a few people I don't want to meet outside.'

They shut the door behind them. Molly, overcoming her initial shyness, stared at Pickwick, who stared back.

'Plock,' said Pickwick.

'Dodo,' said Molly.

Pickwick grasped Molly by the cuff and led her into the kitchen to show off her egg.

'What do you do, David?' I asked as I looked out of the kitchen window. I needn't have worried; the two cars and their occupants were in the same place.

'I'm a fund-raiser,' he replied. 'I've wanted to meet you for some time.'

'Why?'

He shrugged.

'Dunno. Interested to see the sort of person who can travel around in books, I guess.'

'Ah,' I replied absently, pausing to consider just how wholly unlikely it was that Cordelia's guest had found my keys when other passing residents had missed them.

'Can I ask you a question, Miss Next?' asked David.

'Call me Thursday. Hang on a minute.'

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