The Brightonomicon (Brentford Book 8) (48 page)

‘He quit the employ of Count Otto Black. Said he got fed up with having to feed all those animals. Especially the spaniels. The rest of his mutinous crew stayed on, though.’

‘Any sign of God’s great-great-great-great-grandson?’

‘None,’ said Mr Rune. ‘What of you?’

‘Well, I have just had a very interesting conversation with a chap called Tobes, but other than that, nothing.’

‘He will be here,’ said Mr Rune. ‘He
is
here, somewhere.’

‘Then I hope we find him soon. This music is giving me a headache. What is the DJ playing now?’

‘Carcass,’ said Mr Rune. ‘Track three from their
Reek of Putrification
album.’

‘Let us go home,’ I said to Mr Rune.

‘No, no, no,’ said Mr Rune, and he waggled a porky digit at me.

‘We should have asked Fangio for a more precise description,’ I said. ‘Distinguishing marks and scars, tattoos and whatnots. A proper detective would have done that.’

‘Are you implying that I am an
improper
detective?’ Mr Rune raised that hairless eyebrow which I had come to know so well.

‘It could be anyone here,’ I said. ‘It could even be
him.’
And I pointed down at the prone form of Tobes de Valois.

Tobes de Valois belched in his slumbers.

‘Or him,’ and I pointed towards a tall, imposing fellow who was striding our way. He was dressed all in black, with long black hair and one of those natty goatee beards that I had so far failed to grow to any convincing degree – although it had been getting pretty good before Mr Rune made me shave it off to disguise myself as a girlie.

The crowd seemed to part before the onward stride of the tall, imposing figure. He raised his hand as if in benediction and smiled benignly, too.

‘I bet
that’s
him,’ I said to Mr Rune. ‘Should I complain of a bunion and see if he offers to heal me?’

‘Most amusing.’

‘I am sorry,’ I said. ‘It is probably nerves. I really need the toilet now and I am not too certain about whether I should go to the gents’ or the ladies’.’

‘Stay here,’ said Mr Rune. And he stepped forward to bid a hello to the tall, imposing figure and engage him in conversation.

And I heard the imposing figure say, ‘They call me the Wiseman of Withdean.’

I crossed my shapely legs and perused the bottom of my empty glass.

‘Another of the same, gorgeous?’ asked the nearest barman.

‘Yes, indeed,’ I said and I ran my tongue around my lips in a
manner that I had once seen Marilyn Monroe do in a movie on TV. I was about to ask Mr Rune whether he would care for another beer, but I saw him being steered away through the crowd by the tall, imposing figure, stepping over Tobes as they went on their way. They were making, it seemed, towards the fire exit.

‘And I do not get an invite,’ I said. ‘Typical.’

And then Tobes de Valois lurched to his feet. ‘Whoa,’ he went. ‘That was horrible. Felt as if someone just walked over my grave.’ And he dusted himself down and ordered a pint from the bar.

‘I think you have had enough,’ I said to him.

Tobes glanced me up and down, mostly down, and winked lewdly. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘I can drink until I pass right out, then sleep for less than five minutes and I’m stone-cold sober again.’

‘This is quite a talent,’ I said ‘I wish
I
could do that.’

‘I’m sure you can do a lot of other things. Are you with the lady-boys of Bangkok?’

‘Actually, I am in disguise,’ I said, as I sipped at the new free pint that had been given to me. ‘And yes, I
am
a chap, although so far
you
are the only person who has discovered this.
And
you did it while you were drunk. What gave me away? Is it the bosoms?’

‘Nah,’ and Tobes shook his head. His hair looked somewhat nitty. ‘I just have a knack for that sort of thing. I can tell if people are telling the truth or not, and whether they are good or bad. I get feelings, you know what I mean?’

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘Am I good or bad, by the way.’

Tobes stared me up and down once more. Mostly up, this time.

‘Good,’ said Tobes. ‘But there’s something odd, as if you don’t know who you really are, or something.’ And he applied himself to his pint.

‘Remarkable,’ I said. ‘You should go on the stage, or something.’

Tobes shrugged and raised his glass once more.

And as he did so, the shadow of his arm passed across a girl with long dark hair and long white legs, who leaned upon the bar, sipping a mineral water.

Which she suddenly spat on the floor.

‘Ow did
that
’ appen?’ she went, and started to cough.

I patted her gently on the back – which you can do to a strange girl if you are a girl yourself. ‘Are you ill?’ I asked. ‘Can I help?’

‘I’m fine,’ said the girl. ‘It’s just me water. It
was
water, then suddenly it wasn’t. It tastes like wine now.’

I took the glass from her hand and sniffed at it.

And it certainly smelled like wine.

It smelled like that really expensive vintage Mulholland Chardonnay that Mr Rune had once ordered for us in a restaurant that we never went to again.

I looked at the glass. And then I looked at Tobes.

‘Oh my god!’ I went. ‘I mean, oh my God, sir. It is you, it is you.’

‘It’s me,’ said Tobes and he raised his glass, but finding it empty, ordered another beer.

‘I mean that it is
you.’
And I got a real shake on. ‘Water into wine. Knowing good people from bad. Becoming sober in five minutes flat. You are The One – the One that Mister Rune seeks.’

‘Rune?’ said Tobes. ‘Hugo Rune? I’ve read his book.’

‘He was just here,’ I said. And I really
was
a-tremble. ‘But he left with
… Oh no!’

‘Do you mean Yoko Ono – John Lennon’s bird?’ asked Tobes.

‘No,’ I cried. ‘It is that “oh no!” feeling you just had, that felt like someone walking over your grave. Mister Rune is in danger. Come with me, quickly.’

‘I’ll just finish this new beer,’ said Tobes. ‘Ah, that’s better. So where do you want me to go?’

‘To the fire exit,’ I shouted.

‘How exciting.’ And Tobes stumbled after me.

‘You are drunk again,’ I said as I dragged him through the crowd.

‘It’s this Old Back-Masker,’ slurred Tobes. ‘I’m fine with wine. I can drink bottles and bottles. Must be something in the blood.’

We reached the fire exit and I pushed open the door. Beyond it was an iron staircase leading down to an alley.

‘Mister Rune!’ I shouted. ‘Mister Rune, where are you?’

And then I heard it. A terrible sound. The terrible sound of a gunshot. I raced down the stairs with Tobes a-bumbling after me. And there ahead I saw him, sprawled in the dirt. And I saw the other man, too – the tall imposing figure, lounging on the bonnet of an
evil-looking black car and smiling down at the body of Mr Rune, a smoking pistol in his hand. And then he reached to his head and drew off a full-face mask and threw it aside. And it was him, of that there was no doubt at all. The evil Count Otto Black.

‘Go back inside, young woman,’ he shouted. ‘There’s nothing for you to see here. Just disposing of some rubbish.’ And he turned away and got into the car, which tore off at great speed.

‘Oh no!’ I cried. ‘Oh no no no.’ And I rushed to the body of Mr Hugo Rune, which was not easy in heels.

He lay flat upon his back, his stout stick at his side. I put my ear to that big chest of his, but Hugo Rune breathed not.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Do not do this to me again.’ And I shook at his leather lapels. ‘I know you are faking it. Wake up now, this is not funny.’

Tobes peered over my shoulder and pointed with a grubby mitt. ‘I think he’s dead,’ said Tobes to me. ‘I really think he’s dead.’

‘He cannot be,’ and I shook once more at the lapels.

‘He can,’ said Tobes. ‘And he is.’

I looked up at Tobes and made a bitter face. ‘How can you be sure?’ I asked.

‘Because I know these things,’ said Tobes, sadly, ‘just as I know good people from bad. But even if I didn’t have a natural intuition for such things, I can’t help feeling that the big gunshot hole in Mister Rune’s forehead might just give it away. God, I’m pissed.’

And Tobes passed out and fell in a heap by the corpse of Hugo Rune.

PART III

I stared at the corpse of Hugo Rune, and the big bullet hole in his forehead. And I went, ‘Wah!’ and my hands flapped, and I span around in small circles.

It was over. It was all over. He really was dead this time.

‘Do something! Do something!’ I stopped flapping and spinning. ‘What can I do? What can I do?’ I flapped some more and span some
more. Then caught my head on something or other and fell on top of Tobes.

And, ‘You!’ I shouted. And struck at him. ‘You do something! You can do something!’

‘Oh!’ went Tobes, returning to consciousness. ‘Not here, love, let’s go back to my place. Oh, it’s
you
– get off me please.’

‘You have to do something.’ I scrambled up and gave Tobes a kick. ‘You have to bring him back to life.’

‘Do
what?
And stop kicking me.’

‘Bring Mr Rune back from the dead.’ I dragged Tobes to his feet. ‘Go on, do it.’

‘Have you gone completely insane?’

‘No. You
can
do it. You
can.
You are Him, the One that Mister Rune sought, the last of your line. You have the powers.’

‘Get off me,’ said Tobes and he pushed me away. ‘I’m really sorry about Mister Rune. I wanted to meet him – there are some things in his book that don’t make a lot of sense to me – but
I
can’t bring him back to life. Who do you think I am?’

‘The last living descendant of Jesus Christ.’

Tobes looked at me.

And I looked at Tobes.

‘Piss off!’ said Tobes, which was not very Christ-like.

‘You are,’ I said. ‘You turned that girlie’s water into wine. You
can
do it. You
must
do it.’

‘I can’t and I won’t. I have to return to the bar now – I have a real thirst on me.’

‘Do it!’ I said. ‘Or I swear that you will never leave this alleyway alive.’

Now, looking back, that probably was not the best thing to say to the last man in the bloodline of Jesus.

‘I know Dimac,’ said Tobes, and he raised one of his hands and made foolish gestures.

‘I know it, too,’ I said. ‘Mister Rune taught it to me.
^*
Take one step towards the staircase and I will break your right hand off and ram it up your bum.’

‘Couldn’t we just talk about this?’ said Tobes. ‘Back at the bar?’

‘Mister Rune is lying dead,’ I said, ‘and he will catch his death of cold if he lies there much longer. Bring him back to life and do it
now.’

‘I can’t,’ wailed Tobes and he wrung his hands.

‘Then from this day forth the world will know you as “stumpy”.’

And I reached forward.

And Tobes shrieked, ‘No, all right. I’ll try.’

I stood there. In that alleyway. In the bitter cold. I hugged at my naked arms and my thigh-high-booted knees knocked together.

Tobes knelt over the body of Mr Rune.

‘Abracadabra,’ he went. ‘Come back to life. Shazam.’

‘Do it properly.’

Tobes looked up at me with bitterness. ‘And how
is
it done,
properly?’

‘Lay your hands on him. Pray or something.’

‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Do it!’ I made knuckle-clicking sounds. Which hurt my knuckles somewhat. Tobes laid his hands on the body of Mr Rune and prayed.

‘Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep,’ prayed Tobes.

I looked over his shoulder. But Mr Rune was still as dead as he could be.

‘It doesn’t work,’ said Tobes. ‘I’m not who you think I am. I’m just a bloke. I can’t work miracles.’

I leaned down and whispered words into the ear of Tobes. These words described to Tobes in graphic detail
exactly
what I would do to him should he fail in his allotted task. So horrendous were these threatened tortures that crucifixion would have been little more than a Sunday-School picnic in comparison.

‘Awake from the dead!’ cried Tobes. ‘Return to life.’

And there came a drumming-humming sound that caused my ears to pop. And then a light so pure and white that I had to shield my eyes.

And when the noise had died away and the brightness was all gone,
I opened my eyes, and I looked down, and Tobes was there, but Hugo Rune had vanished.

‘He has gone.’ I pointed. ‘What happened? Where has he gone?’

‘Dunno,’ said Tobes. ‘Did you see a real bright light?’