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te me even more after that。'
'Maybe I'll tell my parents about us； too。' She smiled。 'It would be nice to clear up all these lies and deceptions before 。 。 。 '
'That's up to you；' he said。
'And what about the Herald？'
'Not much point in bringing out another edition； is there？ I mean； everything will be in the dailies。 Nobody'll be interested in local news。 We could always print a mass obituary in advance！'
They both laughed。 Morbid； but anything that made light of the situation seemed funny。 Every minute； every second； was precious。
An embrace。 A lengthy one。 Those few nights apart had seemed an eternity。
'Tomorrow night； Bob？'
'I promise。'
He drove home slowly through the traffic； reluctant to reach his destination。 Any diversion would have been wele…a breakdown； a puncture。 But the old Avenger was determined to remain faithful to the very end。
Coyle was surprised to find another vehicle blocking his driveway： a ten…year…old Morris Minor； immaculately clean in spite of the corrosion on the sills。 He parked in the roadway。
The car was familiar； and he had decided upon its ownership before he stepped into the house。 The elderly male voice ing from the sitting…room confirmed his guess。 The local clergy had called in person： the Reverend James Mortimer。
Coyle took off his coat； and lingered over hanging it up in the hail wardrobe。 Mortimer and he were acquainted on business terms； mostly through the printing of church notices hi the Herald…obituaries； special services； and such。 That was where it ended； though。 Coyle had little time for organised religion。
Mortimer had a ruddy face that was just too cherubic to be true； a black homburg hat and knee…length overcoat； a long…stemmed black rustic briar pipe。 He smoked a strong…smelling Latakia mixture； much in contrast to Kent's sweet bonded flake。
The clergyman was seated in an armchair； still wearing the coat； hat on his lap； pipe between his teeth。 Jane sat opposite； wearing a charcoal…grey dress； and it was obvious that she had been crying for most of the day。
'Mr Coyle。' The Reverend Mortimer rose shakily； plump pink hand outstretched。 'My deepest sympathies in your tragic loss。 I came as soon as I heard。 I have spent the afternoon with your wife； and I trust that I've been of some fort to her during this terrible time。'
Jane's eyes met her husband's。 They narrowed； there was no forgiveness in them。 She did not speak。
'A very painful subject。' Mortimer resumed his seat； talking incessantly。 Bob wished the clergyman would leave； but a freshly poured cup of tea told him that would not happen for the next quarter of an hour。
'The funeral。' Mortimer struck a match and proceeded to relight his pipe。 'Your wife is in favour of cremation 。 。 。 '
'It's already been carried out；' Coyle broke in cruelly； recent events bringing about a desire to hurt Jane。 And if he offended the vicar as well 。 。 。 well； that couldn't be helped。 'Richard was cremated this morning 。 。 。 along with a couple of slags； a tramp； ninety…seven pigeons； and one Alsatian of doubtful pedigree。'
There was stunned silence； and Mortimer's pipe fell into his lap。 Jane just stared with disbelief； then contempt。 It was clearly a joke in very bad taste。
'You're very unkind and hurtful。' She restrained a whiplash of words； and held back the tears。 'We're arranging it with Mr Wain for next Tuesday…'
'Then forget it；' Coyle snapped。 'The bodies were radioactive。 There's been a leak up at 〃Holocaust〃…as will be described by the Prime Minister on television tonight。 I was at a press conference there this afternoon。 It's no longer an official secret。 Ten days； and we live or bust。 It's as simple as that。 They had to get rid of the dead bodies as quickly as possible。 It hurt me just as much as you； but there was no other way。 We must face up to facts。 There isn't much time left。'
Jane was being hysterical again。 The Reverend Mortimer moved quickly to her side； and a forting arm saved the situation； temporarily。
Coyle wished he could find some excuse to leave them to it。
'Your statement confirms rumours which have been circulating in town recently； Mr Coyle；' Coyle was surprised how philosophically Mortimer took the news。 Possibly it was easier at his advanced age。 'For five years； apart from christenings； weddings； and funerals； my congregation has barely exceeded three full pews。 Three weeks ago it began filling up； at munion； matins； and evensong。 Pleasing to some extent； but in my heart I knew the reason。 Fear。 A turning back to a forsaken God； repenting； praying for deliverance 。 。 。 deliverance from this hell which has sprung up in our very midst； our valley turned into Hades itself。 I noted your recent article on Balzur's pact with Pluto to destroy the people of Craiglowrie…a very old legend； referred to in some of the church archives； passed on by word of mouth down the generations。 I wish you hadn't printed it。 Old beliefs can be very frightening at times like these。 Of course； there's no truth in it。 Just an old fable。 Nevertheless； with people's nerves now stretched to breaking point； it could spread hysteria。 I beg of you not to print anything more about Balzur。' The ruddy cheeks had paled。
Coyle lit a cigarette。 He wished Mortimer would go away and leave them to it。 This was the end of his marriage to Jane； and he wanted to get it over with。 There would be no time for divorce proceedings。 What the hell did it matter； anyway？
'But we mustn't overlook the fate of your poor boy。' Satisfied that Jane was not going to break down； the vicar returned to his chair； and once more attempted to light his pipe。 'Of course； he was not responsible for his actions。 We must proceed with the memorial service； as arranged； Mrs Coyle。 Leave everything to me。 Tuesday； at 2。30 p。m。'
Coyle showed him to the door； but did not remain to see him reverse hesitantly out into the road。 He went straight back into the living…room。
Jane sat still and silent； with no sign of tears。 They had all been shed。 Only the bitterness remained。
In the awkward silence； he poured himself a whisky。 He decided against offering her one。 There were still fragments of glass on the carpet。
'Is it true what you said？' Jane spoke at last； her eyes fixed on her husband。
'I'd hardly lie about a thing like that； would I？'
'No； I suppose not。 Only life's been nothing but lies lately。 Lies； lies； and more lies。 Still； it'll all soon be over； won't it？ Over for all of us。 This crazy Balzur you're obsessed with will have his way in the end。'
'It rather looks that way； with a radioactive leak。 Either it'll have to be released into the atmosphere； which will poison us all； or else there'll be the equivalent of countless atomic bombs exploding just up the road。 Exactly who will make the decision； I've no idea。'
'And even if the level of radioactivity isn't reached；' Jane said； 'they'll be left with a cloud of deadly vapour which they won't know what to do with。'
'They'll probably find some way of solidifying it； and disposing of it along with the rest of this bloody waste。'
'And we'll all live；' she laughed； this time hysteria predominant。 'I pray God that we don't。 Oh； God； how I pray that we don't have to live on any longer； any of us！'
Chapter 10
Friday； midnight。 The Prime Minister's broadcast to the nation followed the late…night horror movie； fantasy suddenly being reality。 Earlier announcements meant that many people stayed up late for it； though most had no idea of its context beforehand。 Possibly the pound had crashed。 Others went to bed at their usual time。 It would all be in the morning papers； anyway。
Coyle sat beside a silent Jane。 Neither had spoken for the past three hours。 The television had blared on； none of the programmes registering in their bemused brains。 At last came the special announcement。 Coyle wondered why all earlier programmes had not been suspended。 No； that would have been a mistake。 The facts had to be put before the nation with a total absence of melodrama。 The full effects would be felt on the morrow。 In spite of everything； life had to maintain a level of routine。 Everything could not suddenly e to a halt。
Coyle became aware that the Prime Minister was simply reading the same speech which Dyne had delivered at the press conference earlier that day。 Word for word。 It was like sitting in a cinema； watching the whole performance for the second time。
The PM looked grave； as he had every reason to be； but his job was much easier than Dyne's。 There were no questions to answer； no live audience to vent their wrath on him。
'And the very fact that this disaster could happen；' he concluded； 'has forced the government to introduce an immediate state of Emergency。 All airports； private airfields； and shipping ports are henceforth closed down； and this action will be under the direct supervisi