The Book of Ultimate Truths

  ‘That was close.’ The head of Cornelius Murphy rose in the darkness. Although he hadn’t been able to see the Campbell, he’d smelt him, smelt the pistol. The iodine scent of cordite, as the barrel turned in his direction. Cornelius took another noseful, rose from his cover and loped after the Campbell. He knew the scent of Tuppe well enough, and he knew that the deviant was hot upon his trail.

  The Campbell was very hot on the wee man’s trail. He followed it with no difficulty at all. The residual heat-traces left on the ground by Tuppe’s naked feet shone like rubies.

  Tuppe backed away towards the cliff edge. The Campbell closed upon him. He pushed aside a tree branch and focused his vision.

  There was the little multicoloured image. The clear silhouette of the ocarina obscuring the greater portion of its upper half.

  And there was something else. The Campbell blinked and squinted. Another heat image, long and low, snaking towards his quarry. Its contours were unclearly defined. It seemed to drag itself along on two front legs, but its overall shape appeared to be that of a great fish. A shark? Jim scratched at his baldy head. Whatever it was, it was closing fast on Tuppe. And suddenly there came a snap snap snapping.

  And with equal suddenness the moon returned in all its splendour.

  Cornelius caught sight of the Campbell’s plump backside.

  The Campbell spied out the Tuppe, inches from the cliff edge.

  And Tuppe, turning at the snapping sound, found himself staring into the gnashing jaws of a large and furry fish.

  ‘Hands up!’ cried Cornelius.

  ‘Don’t move!’ cried the Campbell.

  ‘Aaaaaagh!’ cried Tuppe.

  And snap snap snap, went the furry fish.

  And then the moon vanished once more and chaos reigned supreme.

  Tuppe took a leap in the dark as the furry fish sprang upon him.

  The Campbell flung his gun aside and himself at the furry fish.

  And Cornelius Murphy brought down the Campbell with a rugby tackle. All this accompanied by a great deal of shouting and snapping.

  And presently the moonlight returned once more. This time to illuminate a frozen tableau that was not without passing interest.

  Tuppe hung motionless in the air, approximately one hundred and ninety feet above the eighteenth green of the golf course below. He clung to the ocarina, that was now locked firmly in the jaws of the furry fish. The Campbell, hanging over the cliff edge, held the fish by the tail. And Cornelius Murphy clung to the Campbell’s knees.

  ‘Tuppe, are you there?’ Cornelius struggled to support the combined weight.

  ‘Cornelius, help me.’

  ‘Can you climb up?’

  ‘No. Can you pull me up?’

  Cornelius tried. ‘No,’ he gasped. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘That’s a pity.’

  ‘I think we’ll have to let the wee twerp go.’ The voice came from the Campbell’s left buttock, which now bore the features of his face. Specs and all.

  Cornelius drew back in horror. But he clung on nevertheless.

  ‘Let him go and I let you go,’ he told the grinning face.

  ‘I’ve still got the ocarina,’ called Tuppe. ‘Well, the fish and I are sharing it actually.’

  ‘Best hold on tight then, brother,’ said the horrid face.

  Cornelius slipped nearer to the edge. He dug his toes into the ground and strained for all he was worth.

  ‘Cornelius, help me.’

  ‘I’m trying.’

  ‘I can’t hold on much longer. The fish is dribbling on me.’

  ‘He’s a gonna, bruv, let’s try and save the fish.’ The horrid face grinned evilly.

  ‘Where is my father?’ Cornelius could feel his toenails splitting.

  ‘Our father, don’t you mean?’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Pull me up and I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Tuppe,’ called Cornelius. ‘Get ready to jump.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s the way,’ whispered the face. ‘Lighten the load.’

  ‘Is my father still alive? Quickly.’

  The face began to laugh.

  ‘Jump, Tuppe. Trust me and jump.’ And with that Cornelius let go of the Campbell’s legs. The face took on a perplexed expression as the legs up-ended and the Campbell toppled over the cliff.

  Cornelius clawed his way to the edge. ‘Tuppe, come back. Now!’

  Tuppe fell in a flurry of arms and legs. The great furry fish came after him and something bad and bloating on its tail.

  ‘Heeeeelp!’

  ‘Bring him to me now!’ shouted Cornelius, reaching down his hands.

  And something swept up, as all about it were sweeping down.

  Something black and cold wrapped around the Murphy’s wrists.

  He gripped it and pulled with all his strength.

  And Tuppe stopped falling. The fish and the ocarina and the swelling something flew by him and went down and down and down.

  But Tuppe began to rise. Up the wall of the cliff.

  It doesn’t take long to fall two hundred feet. No more than a few short seconds. There is, however, just enough time to do either of the following; curse the name of Murphy, or, swallow an ocarina.

  Then it’s SPLAT!

  The Campbell and the furry fish struck the eighteenth green of the municipal golf course. It was a hole in one. It was a very devastating SPLAT!

  Cornelius hauled Tuppe back over the cliff edge. The small fellow’s bewildered face gaped at him.

  ‘How?’ asked Tuppe.

  Cornelius lifted him to safety and set him down. ‘That was close,’ he said.

  The grand full moon shone down upon Star Hill.

  Cornelius sat in the thistles on his naked bottom, gasping and wheezing. ‘I think we’ve finally seen the last of the Campbell,’ he panted.

  Tuppe glared up at his friend. ‘I could have been killed. You let me fall.’

  ‘It was a calculated risk.’

  ‘A calculated what? You bas–’

  ‘Tuppe, there was no other way. I couldn’t have held on any longer.’ Cornelius plucked a thistle from his bum. ‘I had to rely on your magic shadow. It saved me. So it seemed reasonable to suppose it would do the same for you.’

  ‘And what if it hadn’t?’

  ‘If it hadn’t, I would have thrown myself over the cliff and let God sort it out.’

  ‘You wouldn’t?’ Tuppe looked into the face of his friend.

  There were tears in the tall boy’s eyes. They told Tuppe all he needed to know.

  They found their clothes and they dressed.

  ‘I’m sorry about the ocarina,’ said Tuppe. ‘I did my best.’

  ‘I know that you did. I’m just glad that you’re safe.’ And they strolled down to the car. Cornelius stuffed Arthur Kobold’s gun into his jacket pocket. ‘I shall have many words to say to Mr Kobold and also to the daddy, when we get home.’

  ‘I’m sure that you will.’

  ‘We may still turn a handsome profit though. All is far from lost.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’ The Cadillac stood where they had left it, shining beautifully in the moonlight, on the edge of the golf course. ‘Handsome car,’ said Tuppe. ‘Yours, is it?’

  ‘Birthday present. I’d hoped for an Allegro, of course.’

  ‘You could always trade it in.’

  Cornelius grinned. ‘Shall we go home?’

  ‘Let’s do. I’ve had quite enough for one night.’

  A light wind drifted over the top of Star Hill. Rippling through the grass. It turned the hem of a discarded silk robe or two and lightly brushed the strings of a hautboy, or it might have been a gittern. It trickled a little dust over the rim of a small crater, where a concrete plinth had recently stood. And the dust fell on to the soles of a pair of ancient clerical boots.

  ‘Hello,’ called a muffled voice. ‘Is it Judgement Day already? Hello? Hello?’

  21

>   ‘Let’s go.’ Cornelius turned the ignition key.

  Fut fut fut fut…fut… went the Cadillac Eldorado.

  ‘Oh great.’

  ‘Out of petrol?’ Tuppe asked.

  ‘Can’t be. Unless the tank’s been siphoned.’ Cornelius shinned from the driving seat and ambled around to the back of the ear.

  ‘Aha!’ He stooped down and plucked something up.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a sprout. Some joker stuck it on the exhaust pipe.’ Cornelius threw the vegetable at Tuppe, who caught it.

  ‘I hate sprouts.’ Tuppe gave the thing a sniff. ‘And this one’s on the turn.’ He flung it back at Cornelius, but it bounced on to the back seat.

  ‘Let’s go home.’ Cornelius climbed back into his seat. Keyed the ignition. The engine caught and the Cadillac rolled from the golf course and down towards the road.

  ‘I grieve for that ocarina,’ sighed Tuppe, as they rolled along. ‘All that booty, there for the taking.’

  ‘We’ll still make good, I told you. We have Rizla’s papers and the adoptive daddy will yield up the remaining. Mr Kobold will pay handsomely. And I will be claiming the bounty he offered on the Campbell.’

  ‘Quite right too. But what about your real daddy? Is he still alive, do you think?’

  ‘Oh yes, he’s alive. The Campbell knew it. I’ll find Hugo Rune somehow.’

  ‘Oh no you won’t!’

  ‘Oh yes I will.’ Cornelius turned to Tuppe. ‘How did you do that voice, by the way?’

  Tuppe shrank down in his seat. ‘I didn’t. Oh, Cornelius…’

  The Murphy saw it in the driving-mirror. A shiny green horror, rising in the back seat. Swelling from the discarded sprout. Forming once more into the shape of the Campbell.

  ‘Oh no!’ Cornelius slammed his foot down on the accelerator.

  ‘Ha ha ha ha ha,’ went the jolly green Jim. ‘You’re dead, by the way.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Cornelius kept his foot down and the Cadillac gathered speed. It swept from the golf course road to the place where the buses turn around. And there, parked all alone, was a spikey black VW. And through the crack in its bonnet, a pair of frightened eyes viewed the oncoming car.

  ‘Oh no,’ wailed Felix Henderson McMurdo.

  The Campbell sprang forward and caught Cornelius by his hair.

  Cornelius clung to the steering wheel. ‘Get the gun, Tuppe. Shoot him.’

  Tuppe rightly panicked. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘In my pocket. Oh ow.’ The Campbell yanked back the tall boy’s head. ‘Hurry, Tuppe, I can’t see.’

  ‘Look out. We’re going to crash.’ Tuppe grabbed the steering wheel and dragged it to the right. The Cadillac swerved and raked along the side of the VW, overturning it in a fine cloud of sparks.

  ‘My bloody car,’ roared the Campbell. ‘You vandal.’

  ‘Let go of me.’ Cornelius fought to free himself. ‘Get off.’

  ‘No chance.’ The Campbell opened a cold yawning mouth. Evil pointy fish teeth snapped ferociously. Snap snap snap, they went.

  ‘Get the gun, Tuppe.’

  ‘And steer the car?’

  ‘Use your initiative. Aaaagh!’

  The Campbell tore out a great chunk of Murphy mane. ‘Haircut, sir?’ he sniggered. ‘A little off the top?’

  ‘Tuppe, help!’

  The small fellow scrambled on to his friend’s lap. He couldn’t steer and search for the gun. And so he did a courageous thing. He swarmed on to the tall boy’s shoulder and poked a finger into the Campbell’s eye. ‘Take that,’ he said.

  ‘Ouch!’ The Campbell fell back. Lumps of big hair in each hand.

  ‘Ouch!’ Cornelius fell forward, dislodging Tuppe on to the floor. He flung the steering wheel this way and that. The Cadillac swung along the parade, narrowly avoiding the parked cars. It flew by The Wife’s Legs Café. And onward.

  The Campbell was up and at ‘em once more. He raised a claw-like hand, which had more than a hint of furry fish about it and flung himself again at the driver.

  ‘Find the gun, Tuppe. Hurry.’

  ‘I’m trying.’ Tuppe rooted from pocket to pocket. It wasn’t exactly an easy task. ‘Ah. I’ve got it.’

  ‘Then use it. Ooooooh…’ The Campbell’s talons hooked into Murphy’s hair again, dragging him up from his seat. His hands left the steering wheel and the car cannoned from one side of the road to the other.

  ‘Shoot him, Tuppe.’ Cornelius fought and twisted. He struggled and he kicked. ‘Shoot him, Tuppe. Tuppe?’

  But Tuppe did not reply.

  Because Cornelius had kicked him right in the chin and Tuppe was now unconscious. He lay slumped on the floor.

  On top of the accelerator pedal.

  The Cadillac thundered through red lights and into the high street. It smashed along a row of parked cars, losing many precious parts and a lot of shiny paintwork. But it kept right on going.

  The Campbell’s claws locked around the throat of Cornelius Murphy. ‘Goodbye, brother,’ crowed evil Jim.

  ‘Urgh,’ went Cornelius, fighting for breath.

  The claws tightened. Cornelius felt his ears popping. His eyes bulged as darkness began to close in. This was surely the end. This creature that called itself his half-brother was actually killing him. Killing him. The stuff of epics. That couldn’t be right. Could it? He was only starting out on his epic career.

  The claws closed upon his windpipe. And suddenly Cornelius Murphy saw the light.

  And the Campbell saw it too.

  A real Bobby-dazzler of a light. Sweeping towards them. It lit up the road and the sky and the shop fronts, flickering through a spectrum that was all its own.

  The Campbell gaped in horror. ‘Trismegistus!’

  Yabba Dabba Doooo…The train dashed forwards. Systems clicking and clacking. Full steam ahead. Its smokestack rained fireflies of electricity. Within its swift smooth shape, tennis balls with nails in the top modulated the flow of beta particles from the positronic generator. Transponders hissed through the anti-matter drive and the little clockwork mouse raced round and round in its wheel.

  Identification circuits meshed. Cross-referenced the face in the rear of the oncoming car with the one on the photograph in the slot marked ‘A’.

  And came up with a match.

  The Campbell’s grip loosened momentarily. Cornelius tore himself from it. He scooped up the Tuppe and forced both feet on to the brake pedal. The Cadillac slewed, wheels locked, tyres burning. Cornelius threw an arm across his face. The Campbell flew forward. Passed over the cowering Murphy and continued on. Straight into the path of The Train of Trismegistus.

  YABBA DABBA DOOOOO

  22

  ‘And then one night in Bangkok,’ the mother continued, ‘we were supposed to be going to this chess tournament. But the coach driver got lost and we ended up at this little night club on the north shore of the Chao Phraya. The star turn was a contortionist. His impression of The Worm Ouroboros was an absolute scream. More tea, Mr Kobold?’

  ‘Is there a fresh pot going?’

  ‘No, there’s plenty left in this one.’

  ‘I’ll stay as I am then, thank you. Did you say there was cake?’

  ‘No. Did you?’

  Arthur Kobold didn’t get to answer that one. Because the kitchen door burst open and two terrific figures stood framed in the portal.

  There was a long one and a short one. Both appeared somewhat smoke-blackened. The long one seemed to be lacking most of his hair. The short one looked a bit dazed.

  ‘Cornelius.’ The mother blinked. ‘What have you done with your big hair? And Tuppe, sit down, you look most poorly.’

  ‘Cornelius.’ The daddy rose from his chair. ‘Is everything all right with you both?’

  ‘We’re still alive. Almost.’

  ‘Let me help you.’ Arthur Kobold stepped up to assist.

  ‘Stay away from us.’ Cornelius helped his friend on to a chair. The mother reached down two
more tea cups.

  ‘The Campbell…’ Arthur Kobold asked. ‘Is he…?’

  ‘He’s dead.’ Cornelius slumped into the chair the daddy held out for him. ‘Very dead indeed.’

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘Don’t thank me. The Campbell was hit by a train. In the high street.’

  ‘The boy’s delirious.’ The mother put aside the cold teapot. ‘Let me phone for Doctor Jameson.’

  ‘Better tell him to bring lots of bandages. Mr Kobold is going to need them.’

  ‘Oh no please.’ Arthur tried to take a step back. But you just couldn’t do that sort of thing in the Murphys’ kitchen. So he wrung his hands pathetically. ‘Please let me explain.’

  ‘You’d better.’

  ‘I’ve never lied to you, Cornelius. I didn’t tell you all of the truth. But that was for your own sake. I didn’t want any harm to come to you. I told you to quit, didn’t I? When things began to get dangerous.’

  ‘You did, that’s true.’

  ‘You see, they wanted the Campbell back. And they wanted the papers. I wanted them to have the Campbell back. But I had no intention of letting them get the papers. I never trusted them. And when they released The Train of Trismegistus, not caring who it might have killed, I knew that I had to expose them. Let the whole world know the truth.’

  ‘The Ultimate Truth?’

  ‘The very same. Look, see, this is for you.’ Arthur Kobold pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Cornelius.

  Cornelius eyed it suspiciously. ‘What is this?’

  ‘It’s a cheque. Read it.’

  Cornelius read it. Then he handed it to Tuppe.

  Tuppe read it and he whistled. ‘One hundred thousand pounds. Made out for cash.’

  ‘It’s an advance. Against royalties.’

  ‘Royalties?’

  ‘Your father’s work. I mean to publish it. In its entirety. You do still have it, don’t you? The papers Brother Rizla gave you.’

  ‘I wonder how you knew about that.’

  ‘I phoned the abbot. He told me.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘But do you still have the papers?’

  ‘I have them. And the ‘daddy’ here, has the rest.’

  The daddy smiled.

  So did Arthur Kobold. ‘I’ve just bought his,’ he said. ‘Drives a hard bargain does Mr Murphy.’