‘Down twelve points at close of trading, would you believe? All they’ve got to do is shove a pointy stick in the ground and the stuff comes up like a burst pipe, and still they manage to lose money. Nicky, get that useless stockbroker on the phone and tell him to sell the lot.’ Nicky, the Bishop’s lovely personal assistant, put her head round the door. ‘Righty-ho, My Lord,’ she said. ‘Oh, and there’s a vicar here to see you.’ ‘A what?’ ‘Vicar. Church of England clergyman. Says it’s an emergency.’ The Bishop frowned. ‘No offence, Nicky, but how can it be an emergency? I mean, it’s not exactly a fast-moving profession.’ ‘No, My Lord.’ ‘So what’s the deal?’ the bishop sighed, accessing SHARESORT on his screen. ‘Sudden outbreak of heresy in the Parochial Church Council? The Day of Wrath cancelled for lack of interest? Or did the meek inherit the Earth but were too shy to tell us?’ Nicky bit her perfect lip. ‘He was saying something about devils, My Lord.’ ‘Oh, not another one.’ The Bishop groaned and buried his face in his hands.
