Retromancer

  And so we crouched until it was nearly eight. And then my dad said, ‘Damn!’

  ‘Why did you say “damn”?’ I asked him.

  ‘Because I have messed this up,’ he said. ‘If there is some kind of electrical jiggery-pokery going on each night at eight within this shop that is connected to the mysterious arrival of goods at The Four Horsemen, it is not going to happen tonight.’

  ‘Why not?’ I asked.

  ‘Because you did not deliver the vital valve,’ said my dad. ‘I have it here.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ And then I said, ‘Hold on, no problem. I will take it around to the front door, knock, tell him I am sorry for the delay. No problem.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I am sure.’ And so I took the boxed valve and legged it as fast as I could around to the front of the shop.

  And I bashed upon the front door and I did not have to bash for long before that door was thrown open and Mr Betjamen looked out at me all white-faced, a-sweat and in a lather.

  ‘Sorry I got delayed,’ I said. ‘I have your valve.’

  ‘You foolish boy! You foolish boy! Give it to me now! Give it here.’

  ‘There is a pound delivery charge,’ I said.

  ‘There is no time for that now. You’ll have to come back.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ I said, ‘but I cannot.’

  ‘Then come in. Come in. Gott in Himmel!’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Just come inside.’

  And I was ushered into the shop and the shop door was bolted behind us. And then I was led through to a back room where there was a great deal of very futuristic-looking electrical apparatus, the likes of which I had only seen once before. And that time only in passing.

  ‘I will take the money in coins,’ I said.

  ‘You’ll have to wait. I am on a tight schedule and this apparatus must be carefully attended to. Timing and accurate calibration are everything. Without it the consequences could be dire.’ And Mr Betjamen snatched the box from my hand, tore the valve from it and slotted same into a hi-tech valve bank. Then he threw one of those big Frankenstein we-belong-dead power switches on a wall and all manner of strange things lit up, buzzed and flashed and hummed and made a lot of noise generally. And that bumper-car electrical smell, which I had come to recognise as one that rarely, if ever, presaged good fortune, began to fill the air.

  ‘What does this thing do?’ I shouted over the growing racket.

  ‘None of your business. I’ll fetch your money.’

  ‘I am not in any hurry. I should like to watch.’

  And Mr Betjamen turned away and rummaged in a drawer. And when this rummaging was done he turned once more to face me and would not you know it, or would not you not, he was now holding the inevitable Luger pistol. And this he pointed at me.

  ‘Stupid nosy slovenly boy!’ he shouted, above the roar of the electrical gubbinery. ‘You could have delivered that valve on time, but no, you idled about and now that idling will cost you your life.’

  ‘That is a bit drastic and unnecessary,’ I said. ‘Whatever is going on here is nothing to do with me. I will get off now, forget about the money. I will let myself out, you just carry on as if I had never been here.’

  ‘No, you’ll go nowhere, this is your end.’

  And the shopkeeper pulled the trigger.

  38

  And I would certainly have died. As that gun was pointing right at my head. Most certainly would have died, if it had not been for my dad, who had entered quietly by the back door and who now struck Mr Betjamen a blow to the skull with what seemed to be half a brick.

  ‘Thanks a lot,’ I said. And I really meant it. ‘Thank you oh so much.’

  My dad was now tinkering with controls, and the noise was growing and growing.

  ‘Do you know how this thing works?’ I shouted.

  ‘I don’t even know what this thing is,’ he shouted back.

  ‘Then perhaps you should not tinker with the controls.’

  But tinker he did, eliciting now a terrible whine, which grew to a terrible pitch.

  ‘I think it is going to blow up!’ I shouted as loud as I could shout. ‘I think we had better run before it does.’

  Smoke was now starting to fill the air and a terrible vibration was running through the very ground itself. The entire building was starting to shake. The dire consequences that Mr Betjamen had suggested would come, if the apparatus was not correctly attended to, seemed very near to coming. My father and I took flight.

  We had not got far before it went up. The explosion was spectacular, all coloured firework flares and rainbow hues. The force of the blast sent dustbins hurtling after us down the alleyway, but we ducked-and-covered and survived intact.

  My father rose and dusted me down. ‘Are you sound of wind and limb?’ he asked.

  ‘I am,’ I said. ‘Although shaken.’

  ‘You were very brave in there. You did very well.’

  ‘You saved my life,’ I said. ‘He would have shot me in the head.’

  ‘Well, he’s gone to where all Nazis go. And we should be grateful for that.’

  I shivered and my dad took off his jumper and wrapped it about me like a blanket.

  And I looked up at that kindly man.

  And I confess I wept.

  39

  THE FOOL

  I thanked my dad and said farewell and returned to Hugo Rune.

  Himself was in a slightly truculent mood, having had to awaken Himself for tea and later too for dinner, as I had been out adventuring.

  But when I told him the details of my adventuring (neglecting to mention that I had met my father) he perked up considerably and said, ‘You just did what?’

  And I explained again about the futuristic electrical contraption that I had seen in the back parlour of Mr Betjamen’s electrical shop in the High Street. And how it had been the dead spit of a field generator that I had seen a photograph of amongst the papers in the Above-Top-Secret PROJECT RAINBOW/Philadelphia Experiment box file, that very morning.

  And how the contraband goods at The Four Horsemen were being delivered there invisibly, through the use of said field generator.

  And so was I not a pretty nifty secret agent to have been involved in the blowing up of the field generator, and everything?

  But did Hugo Rune come over all smiles and pat me heartily upon the back in the spirit of congratulation?

  No, he did not.

  In fact he did nothing of the kind. Rather he called out to Fangio to supply him in haste with a map of the borough. Took pens and protractors from his pockets, made prolonged and complex calculations, cried, ‘Yes and I shall have it!’ Returned the map to Fangio, told me that he would meet me right here at eight-thirty tomorrow evening and then rushed from the saloon bar most speedily.

  Leaving me to pay the bill for his luncheon, tea and dinner!

  I sank several pints of Stone Informal, then wandered back to the manse and bed.

  And I slept well upon that night, because I had met my father and had a brief adventure with him and that had made me very happy indeed.

  And I mooched around during the following day, opening up boxes of contraband goods that I had liberated from The Four Horsemen, tinkering with their contents and missing Mr Rune.

  At a little after eight of the evening clock, I took myself off to The Purple Princess, which proved upon this particular evening to be rather crowded as it was

  BRENTFORD INTER-PUB

  JUMPING-OUT

  COMPETITION

  Prizes Prizes Prizes

  I had hoped that perhaps my dad might turn up, but he did not. Nor indeed did the new guv’nor of The Four Horsemen, who had apparently been arrested the previous evening as an enemy agent and carted off to prison.

  I do have to say that for the most part I was singularly unimpressed with the quality of the jumping-out in the inter-pub competition. Some of it was just plain silly, with folk bringing on large cardboard bo
xes, climbing into them and then springing out and going, ‘Boo!’

  And as for the technique of Mr Gardner the air-raid warden, who shouted, ‘Zulus, thousands of them,’ then pointed, and when folk had turned their heads in the direction of his pointing, left the bar - I think, perhaps, he had failed to actually read the poster, in order to see what the competition was all about.

  But some were good, some were bad and some were utter rubbish. Mr Hartnel was superb and many spilled their beer and soiled their trousers when he came jumping out.

  So it did look as if Mr Hartnel was going to be the outright winner and had it not been for the sudden arrival of an unannounced contestant, whose jumping-out outclassed the all and sundry, he no doubt would have been.

  With a flash and a bang and a kind of a whoomph, Hugo Rune jumped out of nowhere, shocked all present and justly claimed the prize.

  Well, I say, justly . . .

  ‘You cheated,’ I said to Hugo Rune. Once the evening was over and we had returned to the manse. ‘You cheated and I know how you did it.’

  ‘Of course you know, Rizla. But as to cheating, I recall no rules precluding the use of artificial aids.’ The prize was a silver cup and Hugo Rune now placed this on the mantel shelf.

  ‘A Philadelphia Experiment field generator! That is how you did it,’ I said. ‘But as to where you acquired it and by what means, I have no idea. I thought it had got blown up.’

  Hugo Rune poured brandies and I took one graciously. ‘They come in pairs,’ he said. ‘Although, as you saw this evening, they can be used singly, if they are carefully calibrated.’

  ‘So where was the one that you used?’ I asked.

  Hugo Rune sipped brandy. ‘When you told me the location of the one that was destroyed, you will recall that I called for a map. This was in order to work out the triangulation. The objective was, on the face of it, to sneak contraband into The Four Horsemen. But bear in mind, Rizla, these were simply test runs for horrors to come, in the shape of invisible invading troops. I had the location of one of the field generators; I had therefore to discover the location of the other.’

  ‘Uncle Ted’s Greengrocer’s Shop,’ I said. Suddenly.

  ‘You are correct!’ said Hugo Rune. ‘But how?’

  ‘The electrical shop would be about three hundred yards south of The Four Horsemen,’ I said. ‘Uncle Ted’s would be about three hundred north. And yesterday, as I passed it, a pigeon pooed on my hat. Then simply vanished, right above Uncle Ted’s shop. I will just bet Uncle Ted was tinkering with his field generator at the time.’

  ‘Bravo, Rizla, Bravo. I had him arrested, shortly after I had the new guv’nor of The Four Horsemen arrested. And then I availed myself of the second and surviving field generator. It is presently housed in the conservatory.’

  ‘Impressive,’ I said. ‘I did not even know this manse had a conservatory. And impressive also, how you recalibrated the field generator to project you into The Purple Princess so you could win the jumping-out competition. Impressive, if a little silly.’

  ‘There is nothing silly about winning, Rizla. Losing can make you look rather silly. But winning? Never.’

  ‘But I am a tad confused,’ I said. ‘This device actually projected you? Teleported you? Like the report said that the USS Eldridge was teleported to a shipyard in Norfolk, Virginia?’

  ‘More than that, Rizla, it projected me into the future. I walked into the electronic field yesterday evening and it projected me into The Purple Princess at eight-thirty this evening.’

  ‘This was a very dangerous weapon in the hands of the Third Reich,’ I said. ‘I think that, like the Chronovision, I should smash it up.’

  ‘And I think not. We will hold on to it for now. As far as I am aware, the one in the conservatory is the only remaining prototype. It is the original prototype built here in Brentford by Nikola Tesla. And this contraband, Rizla—’ Mr Rune made encompassing wavings at all the liberated contraband that was stacked against every wall.

  And yes, I confess it, I did buffings of my fingernails.

  ‘Pretty nifty, eh?’ I said. ‘We will be in pop-up toasters for life. Or we can sell the entire job lot to Fangio, if you wish.’

  ‘Sadly, no.’ And Hugo Rune did shakings of his head. ‘All must be consigned to the flames, young Rizla.’

  And this I too did shakings of the head.

  ‘It must be,’ said Himself. ‘These goods are stolen goods. But that is not the problem. They were stolen from the future. Look at this. What do you make of this?’

  He displayed a box with the words SONY MP3 PLAYER printed upon it.

  ‘Now, I confess that I am baffled by that one,’ I said. ‘I think it might be an electric razor, or possibly a hearing aid.’

  ‘It will not be invented until the turn of the twenty-first century,’ said the Magus, gravely. ‘Future technology, Rizla. This might well explain how the Reich gained the atomic bomb before the Allies, might it not?’

  ‘Indeed it might,’ I said. ‘So must we really burn the lot?’

  ‘I regret that we must. But do not lose heart. You did very well. We have a powerful weapon now, sitting there in my conservatory. And when the time comes for us to use it, we will use it wisely. Well done.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr Rune,’ I said. ‘Thank you very much.’

  And we clinked our brandy balloons together and Hugo Rune toasted me.

  ‘There is only one thing that still puzzles me,’ said the guru’s guru, ‘and that is the matter of the tarot card.’

  ‘THE SUN?’ I said.

  ‘THE SUN, indeed. I am still at a loss to understand its significance. You did tell me everything about your adventure, didn’t you, young Rizla?’

  ‘Ahem,’ went I. ‘Pretty much so,’ I said. And my fingers were crossed as I said this.

  ‘Really?’ said Hugo Rune. Smiling. ‘Well, isn’t that odd, then? Because I see two possible interpretations of the card. But if you have told me all, then I must discount them.’

  ‘As a matter of interest,’ I said, ‘what might these two interpretations have been?’

  ‘Well,’ said the Magus, and he peeped at me through his brandy balloon. ‘The Sun was, in ancient times, worshipped because it was considered to be the father of the Earth. And then, of course, you have the word Sun itself. How easily might such a word be misspelled, or misused? As in son, perhaps.

  ‘Which would leave us with father and son - would that mean anything to you?’

  And Hugo Rune did lookings at me.

  And I did lookings at him.

  And he winked and I smiled.

  And no further words needed saying.

  40

  I wondered a lot about all that had happened. And I knew that all was significant. That field generator stood there in Mr Rune’s conservatory and I certainly wondered about that.

  Had it, I wondered, somehow been the means by which Mr Rune had transported himself and myself into this age? He had used the word Retromancer to describe himself,7 hinting that it was through his magic that we had travelled back in time. But that field generator did not look like the product of the nineteen forties. Even though it bristled with valves and copper coils, there was still too much of the future about it. Had it, perhaps, been invented in the future and then found its way into the past?

  And I was certainly not comfortable about it just sitting there, amongst the potted aspidistras and late-flowering triffids. Surely the underground network of German spies would soon locate it. Surely Mr Rune’s life would be in danger.

  And mine also.

  ‘Dismantle it,’ I said to Mr Rune. Upon a Bank Holiday Monday in the August of the year. ‘Pack up the pieces and ship them away to various bank vaults, under assumed names, and—’

  ‘Rizla,’ said Hugo Rune. ‘Do you want that egg?’

  ‘I certainly do,’ I said, moving my plate beyond his range and shielding it with my fork. ‘But please leave my breakfast out of this. I am very worried abou
t that machine just standing there in the conservatory. What if the manse were attacked? What if the Germans snatched it away? They must be furious about losing it.’

  ‘Hopping mad,’ said Hugo Rune. ‘My overseas sources inform me that Count Otto Black has had to return one of his Iron Crosses to the Führer.’

  ‘Was Count Otto in charge of the project, then?’

  ‘He is their man in Brentford, so to speak.’

  ‘Perhaps we should just smash it up,’ I said.

  ‘No, Rizla, no. Its moment will come. Please do believe me on this. Some things are inevitable. Some things will surely happen. For example, if I draw your attention to the barrage balloon that hovers up there—’ And he pointed towards the window.

  I followed the direction of his pointing. Observed no such barrage balloon and returned my gaze to my breakfast.

  Which now lacked for an egg.

  ‘You thieving swine,’ I said.

  ‘Some things are inevitable,’ said Hugo Rune. ‘I was only seeking to prove a point.’ And he dabbed at his mouth with an oversized red gingham napkin.

  ‘So,’ I said, ‘if today we are to have a special word and that special word is to be “inevitable”, I suppose you are about to read an article in the newspaper that will be the inspiration for a new case. Which in turn will involve a visit to Fangio’s, where we will engage in a conversation that, although appearing irrelevant at the time, will later prove to be of great significance. And also we will revisit Mr McMurdo, who has probably now been relieved of his weight problem, but to such a degree that he floats at ceiling level. Then—’

  ‘Stop that, Rizla, please. Are you suggesting that there is some kind of formula involved in the way we do business?’

  I shrugged and said, ‘Well—’

  And Hugo Rune struck me with a sausage. ‘Beastly boy,’ he said. ‘We have but two more cases to deal with here, before we move on.’