Free Kraken by China Miéville

if he could. But he’s too smart now.”
    “That’s his cross to bear,” said Baron. “Boom-boom! I thank you.”
    “He knows religion is bollocks,” Collingswood said. “He just wishes he didn’t. That’s why he understands the nutters. That’s why he hunts them. He misses pure faith. He’s jealous.”

Chapter Eight
    I N LATE DRAB RAIN , B ARON DROVE B ILLY BACK TO HIS FLAT . “K ATH’S going to take a look at your security,” he said.
    “Haven’t got any.”
    “Well quite.”
    “I don’t want to let nothing happen to you now,” she said. “Not now you’re precious.” He looked at her sideways. “And don’t let anyone in you don’t know for a few days, either.”
    “Are you joking?”
    “Look, they’re not stupid,” Baron said. “They’re going to know we’re watching. But they’ve got some questions about you, for obvious, and curiosity can be a bit of a millstone. So safety first, eh?” He turned to look at Billy in the backseat. “I don’t like it any more than you. Alright, perhaps you like it even less than me.” He laughed.
    “Shouldn’t you be protecting me?” Billy said.
    “Wanna be in my gang, my gang, my gang,” Collingswood sang.
    “Gary Glitter?” Billy said. “Really?”
    “I wouldn’t say danger,” said Baron. “I’d say at the very worst it’s dangish . We’re not saying don’t have anyone over—”
    “I bloody am,” said Collingswood, but Baron continued, “if it’s someone you trust, that’s all peachy. Just being cautious. You’re small fry. They’ve got what they want.”
    “The squid,” said Billy.
    “Collingswood’s going to install a good solid security set. You’ll be fine. And you know, if you take us up on our offer, we might upgrade it.”
    Billy stared at them. “This isn’t a job offer. It’s a protection racket. Literally, protection.”
    Collingswood tutted. “Little drama queen, ain’t you?” she said. She patted his cheek. “It’s benefits, innit? All jobs have them.”
    Baron steered Billy toward the kitchen while Collingswood milled by the front door. She looked thoughtfully around the hallway, the cabinet on which Billy left his keys and post. She made a sight, trendily unkempt, up on tiptoe, cigarette loose between her lips as if in a French film, prodding at the upper corner of his doorway with confidence and precision Billy did not associate with someone so young.
    “Understand what we’re talking about,” Baron said. He poked around without asking, looking for coffee. “You’d keep your job. Just a day off a week, something, to put in time with us. For training. Extreme theology, self-defence. And there’d be that bit of dosh.” He sipped. “I suppose this must all be a bit much.”
    “Are you taking the piss?” Billy said. “A bit much? I just found a man pickled . I’m being recruited by cops who tell me the Cthulhu cult might be after me …”
    “Alright,” Baron said. He did not, Billy noticed, need any explanation as to what Cthulhu was. “Calm down. Let me tell you what I think. Someone’s watching you. As in, look-but-don’t-touch. Maybe they’re going to go for a conversion. You know how creationists are chuffed to the bollocks when they have members who are scientists or whatever? Think what it would be to this lot to have a genuine squidologist in the congregation.”
    “Oh good,” said Billy. “That’s very reassuring. Unless it’s that they want to cut out my heart.”
    “Vardy can get into these headspaces,” Baron said. “If he doesn’t think these cultists are out for you, they’re not.”
    There was a banging, a rasp, from the other room. “What’s she doing?” said Billy.
    “Focus, Harrow. In my professional opinion, and Vardy’s, the squiddoes are trying to work out what you represent.”
    “I represent bugger-all!”
    “Yeah, but they don’t know that. And in this world where you now are, everything represents something. Get it? It’s really important you