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advantages.”
    “Whatever. I’m just concerned that we’re giving Mr Bramwell the wrong impression, bickering like this not two minutes after we came in. Zak, pay us no mind, y’hear? Just a bunch of middle-aged rich guys joshing around. We’re here for you . It’s you we’re interested in, you we’ve brought five thousand miles to see us.”
    “No, if you lot want to keep tongue lashing each other to see who’s got the biggest dick, you go right ahead,” is what I shouldn’t have said but somehow did. I don’t know what came over me. I think I was trying to ingratiate myself with them, be one of the boys.
    At any rate, an awkward silence fell, and I couldn’t help but feel that with that single sentence I had just done myself out of what promised to be a fairly lucrative commission. All for a cheap quip about fellatio. Talk about blowing your chance.
    Then Lombard laughed, and the other two chimed in, and I sensed I’d got away with it. I even thought I had gone up in their estimation a little.
    “So you’ll be wondering,” Lombard said, “what am I doing here and what the hell do these three larrikins want with me?”
    “Something like that,” I said. “Don’t get me wrong, the trip was exciting. Four bullyboys dragging me into a car. Outer space. Nearly getting turned into a fireball by a Pakistani warplane. Thrill a minute. But what it’s all in aid of – that’s the big question, isn’t it? And why me?”
    “Put simply,” said Krieger, “we need someone to draw for us.”
    “Draw? Draw what?”
    “My older son’s into comic books,” said Lombard. “Dick Junior. He’s bloody college age and he still reads the damn things, though apparently that’s ‘cool’ these days.”
    “Comics aren’t just for kids!” I said brightly. 2
    The three of them looked at me like I was some kind of fucking weirdo – as they had every right to.
    “Yes, well,” said Lombard, “Dick Junior tells me you’re one of the top doodlers in the biz. Raves about your stuff, he does.”
    “As a humble ‘doodler,’ all I can say is your son has impeccable taste.”
    “We need you for a project, Zak,” said Bhatnagar. “We need your input. Your design brain. Your artist’s eye.”
    “Colour me intrigued.”
    “We’re prepared to reward you.”
    “That’s good to hear.”
    “Handsomely.”
    “Even better.”
    “Enough to cover what’s left on your mortgage and leave you financially secure thereafter.”
    “Enough to...?”
    How did they know how much my mortgage was? And then I thought, According to Aanandi they know everything there is to know about me, so why not that? And then I thought, They’re talking about a shitload of cash, aren’t they?
    “But time is pressing,” Bhatnagar went on. “You’d have to be able to start more or less straight away.”
    “Like today straight away?”
    “If possible.”
    “But...”
    “We’ve got you all the equipment you’ll need,” said Krieger. “We’ve a studio ready for you. Desk, drawing board, pens, brushes, a computer, all top spec. Phenomenal natural light.”
    “But I have sort of a deadline I need to meet,” I said. “I’m in the middle of something already.”
    “We can sort that for you,” said Lombard. “Just so happens I own the company that owns the company that’s going to publish your next series. Tell me who to phone directly to get you an indefinite extension on the deadline. All ridgy-didge, no problem.”
    “We’re really keen that you can do this for us,” said Bhatnagar. “I know it’s short notice, and I’m sorry, but we’ve had to shorten a deadline of our own. Certain parties are getting interested in us. Too interested. We’re drawing unwelcome attention from various quarters, and we’re having to bring things in well ahead of our planned schedule, so that we’re not pre-empted in any way.”
    “What do you mean, pre-empted?”
    “I can’t explain. Not ’til I know you’re onside and part of