The Fuller Memorandum

I tilt my head from side to side, trying to spill the invisible goop that’s clogging up my mind. Thinking in here is difficult, as if the air, hazy with the congealed fumes of state secrets, is impeding my ability to reason-

“Boss. Why are you here? Everyone thinks you’ve gone missing, AWOL with no forwarding address.”

Angleton grins skeletally. “Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

My eyes are feeling hot and gritty from too much stress and too little sleep, but I manage to roll them anyway. “Big problem: you just tipped me off. Can you give me a reason not to out you to the BLOODY BARON team-other than ‘because I said so’?”

“Of course.” He looks increasingly, alarmingly, amused. What have I gotten myself into this time? “You’ll keep it to yourself because while the cat’s away the mice may play, and one of this particular bunch of mice appears to be a security leak, and I’m setting a trap for them. You’re the bait, by the way.”

“I’m the-”

“And to sex you up so they come after you, I’ve got a little job for you to do.”

“Right, that’s it, I’m through with-”

“Assuming you want to nail the scum responsible for the CLUB ZERO incident in Amsterdam.”

“-fucking cultists-really?”

“Yes, Bob.” He has the good grace not to look too smug. “Now shut up and listen, there’s a good boy.”

He deposits a slim memo on my desk, then places a small plastic baggie on top of it. I squint at it: it’s empty except for a paper clip.

“Here’s what I want you to do…”

CLASSIFIED: TEAPOT BARON TYBURN FROM: Fuller, Laundry TO: 17F, Naval Intelligence Division Dear Ian, Hope all’s well (and my best regards to your mother, long may she keep her nose out of operational matters). You enquired about Teapot. Subsequent to the death of Burdokovskii in 1921, Q Division determined that the preta referenced in the Sternberg Fragment had returned to the six paths, and if it could be recalled and bound into a suitable host it might be compelled to the service of the state. Given the magnitude of the powers possessed by this particular entity, this was considered a desirable objective; however, its reincarnation required that we provide the hungry ghost with a new host. Obviously, this presented them with a headache; so some bright spark finally came up with the idea of asking the Home Office. A request was accordingly submitted in 1923. Due to the 1924 election and subsequent upheavals and crises, the request was not actually considered at ministerial level until 1928, in which year the Prime Minister and Home Secretary agreed, not without considerable argument, to sanction the use of the ritual as an alternative method of capital punishment on one occasion only. I am not at liberty to disclose the identity of the murderer in question-he has in any case paid the ultimate price-but after his hanging was a

I’M NOT GOING TO EXPLAIN HOW I GOT HERE FROM THERE: JUST take it as given that it is now ten o’clock in the morning, I am still in the office (but called Mo half an hour ago to see she’s okay), I haven’t shaved or slept, and there’s a BLOODY BARON meeting in five minutes. I’ve got Amarok ru