"You can see what I'm thinking, mate," Gus said.

Fenton could. And it was madness. The windows were about two-thirds of the way up the roof's face. A brief sill or ledge ran along the bottom of them. And from there, the great slope of steel came down on a rampant grade of considerably more than forty-five degrees, sluicing an endless flood of rain into the gutter that ran along its near edge. In some places the guttering was full, and rills of overspilling water surged from it to the sodden turf.

Gus went to one of the metal poles that held up the veranda. He gripped it, tried to shake it. He seemed pleased by the results. He came back over to Fenton's side.

"If one of us clambers up there," he said, "we could gain access through one of them windows."

"It looks," Fenton said, "a little dangerous."

"You could be right." Gus looked up again, soberly regauging the slope.

"For a biggish bastard like me, it could be a little hairy."

Oh no. Fenton wasn't having that.

"For a biggish bloke like me," Gus repeated.

He just wasn't.

"More a job for a lither bloke," Gus said.

"Yes," Fenton deadpanned.

"A bloke like yourself."

Fenton looked at his watch.

"Jesus, Fent. How many hints do you want me to drop?"

"Sorry?"

"I reckon you should get up there mate."

"Oh." Non-committally. "Right."

"Fair dinkum, Fent! You can see why I can't get up there, surely?" Gus's smile was forced. Time was a factor. Rain matted his beard. "I'm heavier than you, mate. And I'm carrying a frigging axe. And I'm meant to be the fucking boss."

Here Gus reasonably paused.

But Fenton simply wasn't having it.

"All right you fucking woman," Gus said savagely. "I will get up there." He stalked petulantly back to the metal upright. Shaking with rage and hurt, he tucked the hatchet under his arm, and grasped the pole at head height. He raised the sole of his right boot and held it bitterly aloft.

"You can at least give me a boost, you twat!" he yelled through the rain.

If Lego hadn't called the police by now he had to be stone deaf.

Kirk Kinbote, operating from behind at least a brace of pseudonyms, was the key creative and design force behind http://www.adancingbear.com, home of the novel "A Dancing Bear."

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