The Great Game

If you’re new to the Great Game, please have a quick look at the blurb to your left, where you’ll find a short catch-up introduction.

“I’ve had Johnson looking into this little oddness of yours. You do realise that it’s utterly impossible, I take it?”

My heart sank. “Well, yes…”

“I mean,” continued Travis, “I can clearly place you at that location at the time you said, from the pod’s logs. But it’s harder for the Cadogan Place people. How, would you think, can I possibly verify what you’re suggesting?”

I thought frantically. “Licenses or inspections for the Gyros restaurant.”

Travis smirked, and the guy with the heron lapel-pin next to him sighed heavily. I looked from one to the other. Heron-pin was tall and well-muscled, with close-cropped gunmetal hair and a heavy, beaky nose. He glared at me sourly. The guy on Travis’ far side — younger and slimmer, with a dimpled chin — looked amused. Travis held his hand out, and arched an eyebrow at heron-pin.The man sighed again, then dug a tight roll of cash out of his pocket, and gave it to Travis.

“Thank you Adams,” Travis said, pocketing the cash. “Well done, Taylor. Spot on. Your nasty little Gyros take-away had a food safety inspection seven months ago. That’s obviously problematic, given that the bank has genuinely been there for the last four years, as far as we can tell.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Exactly,” said Travis. “Bit of a puzzler, isn’t it?”

“Wait a moment,” I said. “Does the inspection identify the shop’s owner?”

“Excellent,” said Travis, beaming at me fondly. “Lucas Paz. He’s a junior trader for the bank. They took him on three years ago. He’d been a small trader before then, according to his records. Food safety confirms that’s about the same time that he opened the Gyros place.”

Adams nodded. “I’m assuming that there are others. You mentioned an electronics shop. We don’t have any easy way to pick them out, though.” His voice was surprisingly syrupy.

“The question is whether this is actually significant,” Travis said. “Don’t misunderstand me, it’s extremely worrying. But is it more worrying than the diaspora of the Archons? Or discovering who spirited away your mystery corpse, along with swathes of Cadogan Place’s finest? What about the possibility that Hallet was just one template of many? It’s proving to be a rather trying day.”

“If reality can be edited at some level…” I trailed off.

Travis nodded. “I agree. But we are having this conversation. You are not suddenly a window cleaner. Your former colleagues yesterday morning were shot, not turned into mustachioed plumbers.”

“Yes,” I said. “I see what you mean.”

“Taylor old chap, your instincts seem reasonably sound so far, as Adams will grudgingly attest. What strikes you as a valuable use of your time at this juncture?”

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Today’s photo is Thursday Night at the Kebab Shop by Mr. Jaded.