The dog-man lunged, swung the lock and leant a weary canine shoulder into the dark wood veneer door. It gave with a petulant hinge whine. Tentatively, the valet entered a tribute to a 1970s office, replete with heavy wooden furniture, synthetic strip curtains and the general toxic combination of reds and oranges in the designs of carpet and upholstery.

The dog-man was straight away at O’Singh’s desk. He selected a drawer, slid it open, rummaged around and extracted two plain manila files.

‘There,’ he said, thrusting one of the documents into the valet’s hands. ‘There is O’Singh’s report. Make it yours. Use it to crush him. Book your place among the pantheon of legendary scientists!’

Casually, the dog-man dropped the other report onto the desk top behind him.

‘Too late,’ answered the valet, testily.

‘Why so? O’Singh hasn’t yet submitted it to the Ministry.’

The valet slipped the document from the file and weighed it in his hands. Allowed himself a mischievous grin.

‘You, Four-and-a-Half. Why?’ he demanded, setting off to pace the room in the manner of a summing-up barrister. ‘Why are you doing this? Why would you risk taking the rap?’

‘Why? Good reason. O’Singh has ruined things for me too,’ said the dog-man, with feeling. ‘But, the big, the biggest deal… You know it occurred to me only very recently that Professor Breville O’Singh has laboured under the delusion that he is the force for good. When actually, actually, in reality, he has set the course for the planet’s destruction.’

The valet stopped in his tracks.

‘Together we can stop O’Singh from discovering everything; the remainder of life’s mysteries.

‘What good comes from benefitting mankind if you destroy it in the process?’

The valet fanned the report, distractedly.

‘Now is the time that you can stop him,’ urged the dog-man.

‘I can?’

‘Yes, you represent a force for bad…’

A crash of thunder pounded the room and lightning flashed across the office window panels. The thunder abated, but a fart rumbled on: ‘Browwwwaaaaal!’

‘I mean a force for bad…’

‘Pup-pupper-pupper-pupper…!’

‘…but in a good way!’ the dog-man jabbered, qualifying his remark before the valet could further pollute.

‘Just think! The force for bad stops the force for good imperilling the planet. What a thoroughly unique event that would be in the history of mankind!’

The valet resumed his pacing to the office window.

‘This time you will have a strategy. Unlike the first time,’ continued the dog-man.

‘What? When?’ demanded the valet.

‘The first time you met, at the Academy, the day after O’Singh’s visit to Lancaster.’

The valet flung open a window and turned to face the dog-man.

‘He had just about given up on his quest, his career, his life’s ambition when unexpectedly he got the call. The interview at the Royal Academy of Philosophy. Suddenly, he had a stay of execution. One last chance to secure a position in academia, one last to discover everything... He was irresistible, unstoppable. All you had that time was your gut reaction…’

‘A what?’ yelled the valet with such venom that the dog-man froze.

‘You listen and you listen well, dog-man. I strategise. I am a highly evolved decision-maker! I’ll give you gut reaction! Pwwoooooorh!’

Next Chapter: Shadowlands