The Third Pig Detective Agency: The Complete Casebook. Bob Burke

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СКАЧАТЬ to climb three flights before meeting anyone. On the third-floor landing two henchOrcs were standing guard. Now the reason for my cunning disguise could be revealed. Most of Edna’s troops were Orcs – not too smart and not too alert but very handy in a fight. Looking like them, although a trifle larger, I might be able to make my way around the building without being too obvious.

      I was about to find out how convincing my costume was. Keeping my head down, I shuffled towards the guards. As I got close, they recoiled at the smell. Good, at least they wouldn’t look too closely. It also appeared as though I actually smelled worse than they did – which in itself was quite an achievement and something that, in other circumstances, I might have taken some (but not a lot of) pride in.

      I knew some very basic Orcish – which to all intents and purposes sounds like a flu-ridden gorilla strangling a hyena – so when they hailed me I muttered something along the lines of being required on the third floor in order to relieve a sentry there. At least that’s what I think I said; I could have just as easily asked the sentries for some hot, buttered toast and a glass of dragon’s blood. Sometimes it was difficult to get those choking sounds just right. I must have been convincing (or smelly) enough, as they let me pass without examining me too carefully. Can’t say I blame them. If I had been on sentry duty, I wouldn’t have been too eager to examine me either.

      I made my way up another, and hopefully last, flight of stairs. At the top I paused for breath and to give my long-suffering body some respite. A long corridor, covered in a luxurious red carpet, stretched out in front of me. Suits of armour lined the corridor, one beside each door. With one exception, all the doors were made of very ornate patterned wood. The exception was the door behind which, presumably, all Edna’s interesting stuff was kept.

      I walked up to it. It looked like a standard metal security door: grey, impregnable and securely locked. Heaving yet another of my many sighs of resignation, I took the lock pick from my pocket, cleaned it as best I could and began to jiggle the levers in the keyhole.

      After ten minutes or so it had become clear that I was never going to add breaking and entering to my long list of skills. My efforts to pick the lock had resulted in very sore trotters, a rising sense of frustration and a door that steadfastly refused to be unlocked. Maybe I was doing something wrong or maybe it was just that the Masterblaster wasn’t actually the state-of-the-art tool I had been promised. In any event, I suspected that hitting the door with whatever implement was to hand wouldn’t be quite as successful as it had been down in the sewer. As I sweated and struggled, I became aware of a conversation from behind the door.

      ‘How’s he doing?’ said a rough-sounding male voice.

      ‘Not too good,’ came the reply. ‘He’s been out there for quite a while now and he still hasn’t managed it.’

      ‘How long do you think we should give him?’ said the first voice again.

      ‘I dunno,’ replied the second. ‘But I know I’m getting bored just waiting here. The fun is going out of it.’

      ‘Let’s not wait any more,’ said the first voice again. ‘Let’s just do it now.’

      ‘OK. On a count of three: one … two … three.’

      Before I had a chance to make any kind of sense of the conversation, the door swung open and two pairs of hands reached out and grabbed me. Hauling me into the room, they threw me unceremoniously to the floor where I lay panting, aching, smelling and trying to get my bearings.

      ‘Well, paint my backside green and call me a goblin,’ said a loud and very familiar voice from right in front of me. ‘If it isn’t Harry Pigg, crap detective and failed burglar. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone take so long to pick a lock. What kept you?’

      My eyes ran slowly up past two legs so fat they were doing GBH to a pair of green stretch trousers. They traversed a torso that suggested its owner enjoyed several square meals a day (quite possibly a few circular, triangular and oval ones as well) and up to a face that defined new levels of ugliness, even for a witch. Imagine Jabba the Hutt with bright red lipstick and a long off-blonde straggly wig and you may get some idea of just how repulsive Edna – for it was she – actually was.

      She grinned at me, which was a particularly unpleasant experience as it showed off a mouth with teeth that varied in shades of yellow and green, and that gave off a breath so unpleasant that I almost smelled good in comparison.

      ‘There I was, wondering exactly what was so special about that lamp I took from Benny when suddenly you appear, stinking to high heaven and apparently eager to take it back.’ She looked me straight in the eye – or at least as straight as someone whose eyeballs rotated in two different directions could – and leaned forward so our faces were almost touching. ‘Looks like you’re the man who can answer this most intriguing of questions. What a timely arrival, eh?’

      She was about to slap me enthusiastically on the shoulder but quickly reconsidered when she saw what I was coated in.

      She turned to the two henchOrcs who had dragged me into the room. They were small but very mean-looking.

      ‘Tie him to a chair and hose him down,’ she ordered. ‘I’m not asking him questions until he smells better than he does now.’

      She walked towards the door and, as she opened it, she appeared to have an afterthought.

      ‘Oh and I’m going for a bath, boys,’ she said with a malicious gleam in the eye that was currently looking at me. ‘So no need to use up all the hot water on him, is there?’ And with a long, loud and unpleasantly mocking laugh, she left the room.

       10

       Anyone for Pizza?

      As you can imagine, it doesn’t take too long for two very burly henchOrcs to tie a relatively defenceless pig securely to a chair – even a pig that they had to keep at arm’s length owing to the smell. And there was going to be none of that slowly working the trotters free while being interrogated either. These guys were pros in the tying-up game. My trotters had been tied to each other, then to my body and then to the chair. I felt my extremities begin to go numb as the ropes constricted the flow of blood. The only way I was going to free myself was by diligent use of a chainsaw and there didn’t appear to be one conveniently to hand. I had been trussed up more securely than Hannibal Lecter; all I was missing was the hockey mask.

      While the goons located a long hose and began running it out of the room and down to the nearest bathroom, I took the opportunity to have a closer look at my surroundings. As I expected, bearing in mind what had just happened to me, the lamp was nowhere to be seen. The room itself was relatively bare. All it contained were a few chairs, a long table and what looked like a drinks cabinet. Considering where Aladdin had kept the lamp, this room was a bit of a surprise. I had expected more hi-tech surveillance and security systems.

      A large oval mirror hung from the wall directly opposite me (presumably deliberately, so I could see just how bad I looked). Without going into too much detail, my skin was no longer a fetching shade of pink and the new colouration wasn’t entirely due to bruising. What was left of my Orc costume was sodden and covered in a variety of strange substances that didn’t warrant a more detailed forensic examination.

      It looked as though whoever had supplied the plans to Mr Big had led him up the garden path (and into the garden shed СКАЧАТЬ