There was deathly quiet.

'That is the most insanely moronic story I have ever been forced to listen to,' announced Parks, not wanting to lose sight of reality for even one second. 'If I listened to a gaggle of lunatics for a month I'd not hear a crazier notion.'

'There are more things in heaven and earth, Parks, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'

There was a pause as the SO-6 agent weighed up the facts.

'Do you think you can get him back?'

'I fear not. The spirits of the semi-dead will be flocking to him like moths to a light, trying to feed off his life force and return themselves to the land of the living. Such a trip would almost certainly be suicidal.'

Parks sighed audibly.

'All right. How much?'

'Ten grand. Realm-of-the-dead-certam-to-die work pays extra.'

'Each?'

'Since you mention it, why not?'

'Okay, then,' said Parks with a faint grin, 'you'll get your blood money – but only on results.'

'Wouldn't have it any other way.'

Spike beckoned me to follow him and we climbed back over the fence, the SO-6 agents staring at us, unsure of whether to be impressed, have us certified, or what.

'That really put the wind up them!' hissed Spike as we scrambled up the embankment, across bits of broken bumpers and shards of plastic mouldings. 'Nothing like a bit of that woo-woo crossing-over-into-the-spirit-world stuff to scare the crap out of them!'

'You mean you were making all that up?' I asked, not without a certain degree of nervousness in my voice. I had been on two scams with Spike before. On the first I was nearly fanged by a vampire, on the second almost eaten by zombies.

'I wish,' he replied, 'but if we make it look too easy then they don't cough up the big moolah. It'll be a cinch! After all, what do we have to lose?'

'Our lives?'

'Dahhhh! You must loosen up a bit, Thursday. Look upon it as an experience – part of death's rich tapestry. You ready?'

'No.'

'Good. Let's hit those semi-deads where it hurts!'

By the fifth time we had driven the circuit between Junctions 16 and 17 without so much as a glimpse of anything other than bored motorists and a cow or two, I was beginning to wonder whether Spike really knew what he was doing.

'Spike?'

'Mmm?' he replied, concentrating on the empty field that he thought might contain the gateway to the dead.

'What exactly are we looking for?'

'I don't have the foggiest idea, but if the President can make his way in without dying, so can we. Are you sure you won't put Biffo on midhoop attack? He's wasted on defence. You could promote Johnno to striker and use Jambe and Snake to build up defence.'

'If I don't find another five players, it might not matter anyway,' I replied. 'I managed to get Alf Widdershaine out of retirement to coach, though. You used to play county croquet, didn't you?'