The Educated Ape & other Wonders of the Worlds (26 page)

The
sun wallowed low in the Martian sky and strange beasts howled in the distance.

24

ery
early the next morning, Mr Bell awoke hangover—free, as was the way with him.
He eschewed today the bathroom spa, taking instead a cold— water wipe-down,
then dressed and descended to the dining room for the earliest of breakfasts.

Then
he returned to his room, where for the next hour he interviewed a number of
the loafing boys, paying some for services already rendered and receiving from
them certain illicit goods; thanking others for jobs well done and dispensing
coin of the realm in a carefree, generous fashion.

When
all was done and he was once more left alone, he attended to certain pressing
duties, then took up the brown-paper-covered parcel and his Gladstone bag and
marched from his room in a most determined manner.

Although
it was still relatively early and the Martian sun was only just upon the rise,
there was a very great deal of activity before the New Dorchester. A very great
deal of rubbing and fussing and cursing from hotel staff.

During
the night, vast works of vandalism had been performed upon the building’s
façade. Huge red painted ‘A’s were in evidence and the ominous line

TODAY THE REVOLUTION
BEGINS

had been wrought
many times in letters large and red.

A
driver, all swaddled in blankets, sporting a big black beard and a high top
hat, stood to the rear of the hotel’s steam charabanc, adjusting stopcocks and
scalding his hands. Of the loafing boys who usually loafed, none was to be
seen.

Mr
Bell climbed aboard the gleaming automobile, which offered its fragrances of
polish and oil to the great detective’s nostrils. He seated himself upon the
luxuriously appointed forward leather couch, tucked the Gladstone between his
feet and placed the parcel carefully upon his lap.

‘The
spaceport,’ said he. ‘if you will be so kind.’

The
driver yanked levers, tugged upon enamel thingamajigs that resembled vast
organ stops and drove the steam charabanc the short distance to the spaceport.

Where
further vandalism of the anarchic persuasion was plainly to be seen.

TODAY IS THE DAY

was heavily
painted all around and about.

The
driver of the charabanc had no comment to make about any of this. Nor did
Cameron Bell, although he nodded once or twice in a manner that might almost
have been described as ‘approvingly’. But for that, he strictly kept his own
counsel.

Before
the arrivals building stood a row of carts and carriages harnessed to curious
creatures, the drivers standing idly by, smoking cigarettes and making
ill-informed comments about the apparently forthcoming revolution.

‘We’ll
‘ave all the toffs up against the wall, come the revolution,’ Mr Bell heard one
remark as he stepped down from the charabanc.

‘We’ll
string that Septimus Grey up from a lamp post, ‘announced a cabbie with a proud
moustache. ‘We all know what
he
has been up to.’

Mr
Bell did
not
know, but neither did he care. Leaving his Gladstone bag
aboard the steam charabanc, he hefted his brown-paper-covered parcel, said
loudly, ‘Please wait for me here, driver,’ then strode into the arrivals
building, whistling merrily.

High
upon a wall a great clock, its dial advertising the virtues of a popular
laxative, ticked loudly in the all but empty hall, its minute hand approaching
twelve, its hour hand at the eight.

Mr
Bell halted his perambulations, drew his pocket watch from his waistcoat,
flipped open its case and perused its face. Then, nodding with thought, he
returned it to his waistcoat. Ahead were the left-luggage lockers — large brass
cages capable of accommodating considerable bags and trunkage. Mr Bell took
out the key that Lavinia Dharkstorrm had given him.

And
then, from the corner of his eye he spied a henchman draped upon a bench, but
all alert. A strange henchman this time and one quite new to Mr Bell. A
moment’s perusal, however, of the Campbell tartan kilt, the scuffings on the
gumboots and a tidemark about this fellow’s neck told Mr Bell all he needed to
be told. This was the witch’s associate who was presently on duty at the
spaceport awaiting Mr Bell’s return in the company of the reliquary.

Mr
Bell half-turned towards this henchman and waggled the parcel about.

Then
took a step towards the left-luggage lockers.

At
which point—

A
mighty explosion, coming from the direction of the landing strip, rocked the
building. Several tiny windows shattered and smoke began to billow over the
concourse.

Mr
Bell clutched the parcel to his chest as the henchman in the Campbell plaid
leapt from his seat and rushed towards him.

Another
explosion echoed and the detective did duckings of the head.

‘Give
me that parcel!’ shouted the henchman. ‘Give me that parcel now.’

‘That
is not what was agreed,’ said Mr Bell, his arms wrapped tightly about the
parcel. ‘I demand in exchange the return of my partner, Darwin.’

The
henchman now drew out a ray gun, and quite a substantial ray gun it was, too.
‘Give me that parcel or die,’ he said in a tone which expressed that no further
words needed saying.

Another
explosion nearer at hand had Mr Bell staggering sideways. The henchman snatched
the parcel from him and fled at speed from the building. Mr Bell sat down on
the floor and covered his face with a handkerchief.

The
henchman ran out to the carriage rank just in time to see the driverless
carriages racing away at speed.

‘Explosions
have scared the damn animals!’ he was told by a driver.

The
henchman clubbed him down.

Sighting
the New Dorchester’s steam charabanc, the henchman leapt aboard it.

‘Drive,’
was his command.

The
driver mumbled into his beard. ‘This vehicle is hired,’ said he. ‘If you wish
to engage it at some future date, please make arrangements with the management
at—’

The
henchman displayed his ray gun. ‘Drive or die,’ was all he had to say.

The
driver adjusted stopcocks, and then he drove.

Folk
were now fleeing in many directions, most of these being
away
from the
spaceport, jamming themselves up in the doorways as folk will do in such
situations and generally behaving in the manner of ‘every man for himself. When
Mr Bell finally issued into the early-morning sunlight, his handkerchief over
his face, he was just in time to see the steam charabanc merrily puffing away
with the henchman aboard.

Mr
Bell’s face wore a placid expression as he dusted at himself then walked away.

Fire-alarm
bells were now ringing and flames licked up from the flammable parts of the
arrivals building.

‘Faster,’
demanded the henchman. ‘Get a move on, do.’

The
driver once more mumbled into his beard. Words to the effect that with a
maximum speed of five miles per hour, it would probably be to the henchman’s
advantage to step down and walk if he was in such a hurry.

The
henchman hunched and shouted out directions. The charabanc rumbled on.

Presently
it rumbled down a paved track into the forest and at the henchman’s orderings
drew up before a tall, narrow house of ancient aspect.

The
henchman stepped down. ‘Now sling yer hook,’ he said.

‘I’ll
need to stoke up the boiler,’ said the driver.

The
henchman turned and slouched away.

The
driver stepped down from his perch.

On the topmost
storey of the tall, narrow house was a very nice room indeed. Nicely furnished
with a nice fire in the grate, a nice chair beside that and a very nice table,
upon the top of which was an exceedingly nice brass parrot’s cage which
contained a sleeping monkey named Darwin. This monkey’s dreams were not very
nice. Nor indeed was the woman who sat beside the nice fire in the nice chair
toasting a nice-looking muffin on a rather nice toasting fork.

The
henchman pushed open the door to this room without knocking.

Miss
Lavinia Dharkstorrm made the fiercest of faces.

‘Sorry,
mistress,’ said the tartaned henchman. ‘There’s trouble at the spaceport. The
revolution has begun.’

‘And
you have abandoned your duties and brought me a present to celebrate this?’

‘I
have brought you the stolen reliquary,’ said the henchman, puffing out his
chest and doing a sort of arrogant head-wobbly thing.

Miss
Lavinia Dharkstorrm grinned the wickedest of grins. ‘So quickly,’ said she,
tossing her muffin and toasting fork into the fire and rubbing her slender
hands together. ‘Place it upon the table, if you will, next to our slumbering
friend.’

The
henchman placed the brown-paper-covered parcel onto the table, stepped back,
made a proud face— Then shouted, ‘Ouch!’ and fell down onto the floor. Lavinia
Dharkstorrm stared in surprise at the chap in beard and blankets who smelled
somewhat of brass polish and oil. This fellow held in his hand the heavy
spanner which he had just brought down upon the head of Miss Lavinia’s
henchman.

‘What
of
this?’
cried the mauve-eyed witch. ‘What do you think you are doing?’

‘He
didn’t pay me, ma’am,’ said the driver.

‘
What?’
shrieked Miss Lavinia Dharkstorrm.

‘In
truth,’ said the driver, now removing his blankets and pulling from his face
his big black beard, ‘I am not normally a driver by trade.’

‘Mr
Bell,’ said Lavinia Dharkstorrm. ‘This is quite a surprise.’ The witch’s hand
moved towards her corset.

Mr
Bell dropped the heavy spanner and drew his ray gun swiftly from his pocket.
‘No tricks, please,’ said he. ‘I merely wish that we transact our business and
then I will take my leave — in the company of my companion, of course.

Miss
Lavinia Dharkstorrm nodded her head but had nothing to say.

Mr
Bell viewed the sleeping monkey. ‘You have drugged him,’ he said.

‘I
tired of his conversation.’

‘And
where is your familiar today?’

Miss
Lavinia winked. ‘That would be telling.’

‘Well,
no matter,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘But just one thing before I depart. I have, as
you are aware, done my research regarding the four reliquaries and I know what
the sacred texts foretell will occur if they are all brought together into an
unhallowed place. Do you truly wish to bring destruction upon humanity? Is
there nothing that I can do to persuade you from this abominable course of
action?’

Miss
Lavinia’s eyes seemed to glow as she fixed them on Cameron Bell. ‘Do you love
your country and your Queen, Mr Bell?’ she asked.

‘With
certain reservations,’ said the detective.

‘Many
consider that if left unchecked, the Empire will inevitably wage war upon the
other planets. History surely informs you that this is a strong possibility.’

‘Yes,
it does,’ said Cameron Bell, in sadness. ‘But this does not give you the right
to bring death to millions of innocent people.’

‘Innocent?’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm laughed. ‘I would kill a billion if my mistress ordered it.’

‘Your
mistress?’ asked Cameron Bell.

‘We
have spoken enough. See, my henchman is starting to stir and his colleague
awakens in the cupboard over there. They might wish to punish you. Best you
depart at once. Our business is done — take your monkey and go.’

Mr
Bell bowed his head politely. ‘So nothing I can say will sway you from your
evil ways?’

‘Depart
now,’
said Lavinia Dharkstorrm.

Mr
Bell lifted the parrot’s cage from the table and with his ray gun still aimed
at Miss Dharkstorrm backed swiftly from the room.