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He closed the phone with a snap and slid it back in his inside pocket. ‘They want us to go ahead,’ he said. ‘Bloody stupid idea if you ask me, but… why are you looking at me like that?’
His brother shook his head. ‘I’m not,’ he replied. ‘What makes you think…?’
‘Oh, come off it, you’re my brother, I know when there’s something you’re not telling me. Spit it out.’
‘Well…’ Grimm #2 spread his hands in a gesture of contrition. ‘I just thought you’d have worked it out for yourself by now, that’s all. Think about it, will you? We’ve got orders to take advantage of the present systems breakdown to seize control of the kingdom, right?’
‘His brother nodded sadly. ‘Completely unrealistic,’ he said. ‘Who do they think we are, the A-Team?’
‘Actually,’ said Grimm #2, ‘it’s not. It’ll be relatively straightforward, once we’ve re-established the Mirrors network and altered all the access codes so we’re the only ones who can operate the system.’
Grimm #1 stared at him. ‘You knew all along,’ he said accusingly.
‘Of course. And I didn’t tell you for the same reason that I haven’t recently reminded you of the fact that you have a nose. I thought you’d realised. For pity’s sake, you don’t think those three Realside kids hacked into the system all by themselves, did you?’
Grimm #1’s jaw slumped. ‘You mean to say we helped them?’
‘Naturally,’ Grimm #2 replied. ‘Obvious thing to do, use an i
‘No,’ Grimm #1 said, ‘you do. Look, is this all one of your jokes? I can’t believe we really do things like that. I thought it was all media paranoia and stuff.’
‘Ah.’ Grimm #2 gri
‘Fairytale?’
‘Yeah, why not?’ Grimm #2 sat down on a tree-stump and lit a cigarette. ‘That’s what fairy stories are for, after all. Scare stories. Bogeymen. Give people something imaginary to be afraid of and they won’t worry about the real story, the thing we’re actually trying to cover up.’ He grimaced. ‘Works, doesn’t it? You’re so accustomed to hearing alarmist rumours about dirty tricks and cover-ups, you assume it’s just paranoia and bad craziness. And so it is, ninety-five per cent of the time. That ninety-five per cent’s a smokescreen so that nobody’ll believe we actually do the other five per cent.’
‘So those kids—’ Grimm #1 shuddered. ‘We sent them here?’
His brother laughed. ‘Good Lord no, that’d be really irresponsible. No, they came of their own choice. We didn’t suggest the idea to them, either. Absolutely no way the parents’ll be able to sue if anything goes wrong.’
Grimm #1 shook his head doubtfully. ‘That’s not right,’ he said. ‘We shouldn’t do things like that. It’s—’
‘Expedient. And efficient. And all’s fair in love and narrative. What’d you rather we did, send in the marines? And a lot of people’d have got hurt, our boys included. No, the hell with that.’
Grimm #1 scowled. ‘So why not just leave them the hell alone? What harm were they doing us?’
‘None of our business,’ Grimm #2 replied sternly. ‘Look, if you want a nice, easy answer, they’re different, see? When you’ve said that, you’ve explained everything. It’s the basis of all our fundamental policy. Different’s a threat, and so it’s got to go. Jeez, next off you’ll be asking why there’s a United Nations.’
Grimm #1 thought about it and came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to think about it. ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I take it you know how to get the system back on line again.’
‘More or less,’ his brother replied. ‘Even brought our own mirror,’ he added, opening his briefcase and reaching inside. ‘Look,’ he said, holding up a small looking-glass with a grey plastic frame and a serial number stencilled on the back. ‘Latest model, state of the art. Million times better than anything they’ve…’
It was, considered with hindsight, a freak accident, the sort of thing that could have happened to anybody. The handle slipped through his fingers, did a salmon-up-a-waterfall impression and hit a stone. Crash, tinkle.
‘Neat trick,’ growled Grimm #1. ‘That’s supposed to be seven years’ bad luck, isn’t it?’
Grimm #2 stared blankly at the shiny white shards. ‘Supposed to be doesn’t enter into it,’ he whimpered. ‘And that’s seven years minimum. How the hell do you think the superstition came about in the first place?’
‘Ah well,’ said Grimm #1, ‘no use crying over bust mirrors. We’ll just have to find another one, that’s all. Come on, we’ve got work to do, and the sooner we make a start, the sooner we’ll be finished and we can go home.’
‘You think that’s all there is to it? We get here and the first thing we do is crash their mirror?’ Grimm #2 laughed wildly. ‘You think that was just an accident?’
‘It’s really got to you, hasn’t it? Look, I’m supposed to be the one with the grave misgivings about this. Are you just going to stand there watching the stalagmites grow, or are you coming?’
Grimm #2 shook his head. ‘What the hell,’ he said. ‘Yeah, let’s go and find a mirror. Doesn’t even have to be glass. A pool of water’ll do.’
‘True, but the response time’s lousy,’ Grimm #1 looked around; and, by sheer coincidence, caught sight of a quaint little cottage nestling among the trees. ‘Let’s try that house over there,’ he suggested. ‘Bound to find one there, I reckon.’
‘What if they don’t want to part with it?’
‘They will, you’ll see. Chances are it’s only some old biddy we can put the frighteners on. It’ll be easy as shelling peas.’
Grimm #2 nodded uneasily. He wasn’t sure he’d liked the rather cheerful note that had entered his brother’s voice when he’d started talking about frightening old biddies. There had been this slightly unpleasant side to his brother’s nature ever since they’d been kids. It wasn’t a nice thing to have to admit about his own flesh and blood, but there it was. For all his earlier pontificating about dirty tricks and doing the right thing, Grimm #1 rather enjoyed watching things break. His idea of shelling peas probably involved a three-hour barrage from a battery of twelve-inch naval guns.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘but let’s not get carried away.’
‘Agreed,’ Grimm #1 replied with a grin. ‘If everything goes to plan, it won’t be us getting carried away, you have my word on that.’
‘Do I? Oh good. That makes me feel so much better.’
Grimm #1 shook his head, muttered something under his breath about half-hearted prima do
‘At least try asking nicely first,’ Grimm #2 puffed as he struggled to keep up. ‘Can’t do any harm, and…’
‘All right,’ his brother grunted, ‘if it’ll keep you happy. Right, door’s locked. I expect you want me to knock first.’
‘I’d have thought it’d be the polite thing to do.’
Grimm #1 reached out and tapped the door gently with the knuckle of his index finger. ‘Satisfied?’
‘Well…’
‘I knocked first, like you said, and no reply. So—’
He raised his left foot and kicked the door hard. It snapped open, swung back and slammed into the wall behind. Something yowled and scuttled away. ‘Cat,’ Grimm #1 explained. ‘And where there’s a cat, there’s always an old biddy. Damn,’ he added, ‘I knew I should have brought my brass knuckles.’
‘You know,’ muttered Grimm #2 as they walked in and looked around, ‘there’s something odd about this place. Reminds me of something, but I just can’t seem to — And what’s that fu