The Pulse of Danger. Jon Cleary

      ‘You are like the man who cannot bear to see wild animals in a zoo?’

      ‘If you like.’

      ‘But flowers are beauty. Don’t you like to see beauty indoors?’

      ‘Maybe it’s just that I don’t like indoors. Are you an admirer of beauty?’

      ‘Why not? If you had lived the life I have, you might find need of it. Indoors and outdoors, wherever you can find it. What are you going to do with it?’ He nodded at the polythene bag. ‘Take it with you?’

      Marquis glanced down towards the garden. The polythene bags glistened in the early morning light, a clump of artificial blooms that seemed to mock him. ‘There’s seven months’ work there. The best collection I’ve ever made. When you come to think of it, there’s no more peaceable work than that of a botanist. Beside us, Bertrand Russell and his mob are cannibals with a tapeworm. And now I’ve got to throw away seven months’ work because of you bastards.’ He bounced the bag in his hand. ‘I’ll take this back and name it after you. It’s bright red in colour, very appropriate.’

      ‘I’ll be honoured.’

      ‘No, you won’t. I’ll explain the reason I named it after you, and then every botanist in the world will hate your guts.’