Emma and Dave arrive at the studio quite late at night, the P4 bus ride has pushed Dave close to the edge.
“So what took you so long, what happened?” asked Billy
“Oh we ran into to some public school boys,” Em replies, “I think they were trying to be helpful, you know, one of those public interaction initiatives public schools run from time to time.”
Billy & Jess listen to Dave describe the theft, passing the carving to Eveready, the return of Livery, the P4 bus ride.
“This is too much”. Jess began skinning up.
“You sure it was Livery?” Billy asked. “I read he’s dead”
“Certain. I recognised him from the photos at his house. There was also something . . . unspoken between us . . . we were both aware of who he was and what he wanted”.
“The carving?
“Yeah. So he didn’t come to you?”
“No. Not that I am aware of. But I didn’t steal from him. What was the carving of?”
“What?”
“What was the carving of? What sort of thing?”
“Is that important?”
“Important enough for Livery to come back from the grave for. What ever it was Livery wanted it back, badly”.
“I’m not sure. I liked the feel of it immediately. It looked, a bit morbid – like a figure hanging . . .” Dave’s voice trailed off, realising what he had said.
“A hanging? My god then it is Livery. This is immense. Mental.”
“At last, you’re listening to me! So what do we do?”
“We do? This is your problem. You took the fucking thing! It’s you he came to see.”
“Hang on. It was your idea we go there.”
“Was it? It was my idea we break in? My idea to steal? I’m not responsible for this.”
Billy collapsed down into a chair. Flicking on the TV . . . The news channel appeared.
“News? Why’s it always this obsession with the news? What is this, a wind up? You know I hate the media”, Dave was getting quite vexed by everything, reigning himself in a bit he continued “But look, listen! This guy is dead. He wants his carving back and god only knows what he’s planning to do with it?” Dave appealed to Billy, who looked blankly at the TV set.
“What if he comes back? I think we should look at ways of protecting ourselves.”
“So what do we do? Call the police and say that we are sorry? We can’t say that on a whim we broke into the house of a dead colleague of theirs, stole a priceless relic that he’s has since come round to look for beyond the grave and we’d now like police protection?”
“No, no, I mean spiritual protection.”
“We’ve medaled our away into this. . . whatever this is, I dunno? I don’t think the police can pin anything, legally on us. If we just lie low for a while – let it blow over . . .”
“I think we’ve done enough medaling”.
“Sounds like something from Scooby Doo. I would have gotten away with it if it wasn’t for you medaling kids”. Said Jess who was getting a bit stoned.
They looked at the TV. “The phenomena, now know as the Thames Skier . . .”
The TV shows a montage of clips from phones, CCTV around the Thames, a scene is broadcast from in front of Tate Modern, the skier passes under the Millennium Bridge . . .
“That looks like . . . That’s him! Jesus Fucking Christ!”
“Who?”
“Eveready. That’s fucking Eveready! I’m certain. They are calling him the Thames Skier. This is what those nutters in the boat were trying to tell us! ”
The big man became hysterical.
A rising sense of panic filled the room.
Billy woke up from his stunned stupor, “Is he dead? Is Eveready dead? Why’s he on the Thames? I don’t understand.”
“This is what’s happening Billy. Livery has killed Eveready and is parading him up and down the Thames. Why? I don’t know but we could well be next!”
“It’s a show of strength?” Billy mumbled almost to himself.
“So what do we do?”
“It’s all over the media. They’ll be onto us before long. We’ll be in the in the centre of the media gaze.”
“Whatever it was you took from Livery must be of great deal importance to him. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to get it back and putting on this very public performance. I mean he’s not afraid to let the whole world know he’s around. It’s on the lead story on the news for fucks sake!”
Jess drew on her spliff, “Only we really understand the significance of these events. Anybody outside looking in the police for example just wouldn’t get it. It could take everybody else years to piece it together, & even then there would be so many extra pieces they’d never manage put it together. A mental, growing jigsaw, the more pieces you put in place the more new ones awaiting placement there’d be. They’d probably never get to just to get to this point, where we see it crystallizing in front of our eyes. . .”
