Chapter 40
Figgus was almightily bored. His ankle was flat-out painful and he was unable to walk even a couple of steps. Anyway there was nowhere to go. He had killed twenty-two butterflies (mechanical), four birds (mechanical) and five cockroaches (non-mechanical).
He had now been slumped in the lift doorway for some five hours. At regular intervals the pleasant voice of the lift would inform him the doors were closing, and there would be a nudge between his shoulder-blades before the voice informed him the doors were opening. Most of this time he’d spent inventing ingenious ways in which Spiker tupping Gomez (even when he just thought the name, Figgus was compelled to spit) would be getting his comeuppance. They ranged from: the practical, where Figgus and a couple of Clansmen ambushed
