Raiders of the Lost Carpark

  ‘Have at you.’ A swish and a flash of steel. And the creature now longed for the return of his nose. ‘Yours I believe.’ Hovis proffered the severed conk, shish kebabed on the tip of his blade.

  ‘My dose.’ The creature snatched it back and refastened it to his face. You couldn’t see the join. ‘Now gimme those diamonds.’

  ‘En garde.’ Hovis skipped onto the roof of the Ford Fiesta, cleaving silvery arcs in the air.

  ‘Your flies are undone,’ said the creature.

  ‘Pardon me.’ Hovis hastened to adjust his dress. A big green fist hit him right in the teeth.

  And something hit Cornelius Murphy. Right in the brain.

  ‘The ocarina.’ He threw himself to the floor and scrabbled about in search of it.

  ‘Forget the ocarina.’ Anna clung to Tuppe. ‘He can’t breath any more.’

  ‘But I can.’ Cornelius snatched up the ocarina, put it to his lips and blew.

  The great green thingy dragged Inspectre Hovis to the pavement and began to knock seven bells of Beethoven out of him.

  And Cornelius Murphy played the reinvented ocarina.

  6

  A summer storm had risen from the south and the rain was starting to fall. It sang like frying bacon on the roof of the ice-cream van and laughed in the gutters, like a drain. It battered down upon the bandaged head of Cornelius Murphy, without grace or good humour. The tall boy stood, wringing his cap between his hands and staring down at the body of his dearest friend.

  ‘Is he alive?’

  Tuppe lay on his back like a broken doll. Anna was giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He wasn’t moving. She looked up at Cornelius. Her face was white and streaked with tears. ‘I don’t know. I’ll keep trying.’

  She bent back over the supine one. Pinched his tiny nose and applied her lips to his.

  Then she jumped back with a cry and struck Tuppe a mighty blow across the left cheek area. ‘You little sod!’

  ‘Ouch!’ Tuppe rubbed his cheek. ‘That smarts.’

  ‘Tuppe, you’re alive.’ Cornelius flung his cap into the sodden sky and knelt to embrace the revenant.

  ‘Alive and licking.’ Anna spat. ‘Your beastly friend just stuck his tongue down my throat.’

  ‘I feel greatly reinvigorated.’ Tuppe grinned shamelessly. ‘But I do appear to be getting somewhat wet.’

  Inspectre Hovis was getting very wet indeed.

  He was lying on his back in the middle of Kew Green, wearing nothing but his monogrammed underwear and his handmade socks.

  Very wet indeed. That’s what he was getting.

  All about and around and around and about lay the shredded remains of his once immaculate suit. Torn to banjoration. The Godolphin diamonds were no longer on the person of the man from Scotland Yard.

  Hovis awoke with a start. He gagged and spat. He gasped and swore. He tried to rise but fell back. He groaned. He groped at his head. He drew himself up a few inches and then collapsed again. But this time to the accompaniment of a great and terrible scream. It began life as a ghastly groan. But he’d already done one of those and there was nothing particularly distinguished in the repetition. But then this groan rose in pitch. Up through the octaves it went, taking them all in and passing them by. Finally to end as a shriek of such an ultrasonic persuasion that few were even the dogs of Kew, the king’s included, that woke to its soul-splitting intensity.

  And was this for the ruination of his suit? Oh no.

  Then for the shame at the beating he’d taken? Not that.

  Then, the loss of the Godolphin diamonds?

  Nope.

  What then? What? What? What?

  ‘Twas for the blade of his silver pommelled sword-stick. That’s what.

  And specifically its present location. The blade rose Excaliburesque, its pommel proud to the sky, its tip buried into Mother Earth. But, ‘twixt pommel and tip, the blade passed directly through the crotch of the Inspectre’s underpants.

  ‘OH MY GOD!’ Hovis raised himself upon his elbows and stared in terror at the shining steel. He was pinned to the ground, pinned like a moth on a specimen board.

  But how was he pinned?

  Pinned by the privy member, that’s how.

  Another unholy wail escaped the dire detective’s lips. Pinned by the pranger! Horror born of horror, born of nightmare, son of dread. And great granddaddy to the worst of all imaginings.

  Hovis threw back his head and howled.

  The wind also howled and the thunder roared. Inside the ice-cream van, Anna fumed, Cornelius schemed and Tuppe asked, ‘How did you get me down off the ceiling?’

  ‘You’ve Anna to thank for that.’

  ‘He has?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Magic.’ Cornelius straightened his now sodden cap and returned it to his head. ‘The notes you played, Tuppe, to open the portals. They might open the portals, but whoever plays them is going to end up in orbit.’

  ‘Nifty bit of defence.’ Tuppe shifted his shoulders about. He ached plentifully. ‘There’s no under-estimating these fellows, is there? So what did you do?’

  ‘I played the notes in reverse order. That voided the spell and you floated down. Well, fell down. We nearly caught you.’

  ‘Well thanks a lot. I really mean it. Where does that leave us now, by the way?’

  ‘Sitting pretty.’ Cornelius Murphy grinned for all he was worth. ‘Because I now have a plan.’

  Inspectre Hovis wasn’t grinning. And he didn’t have a plan. But he did cease the howling. He had no wish to be found in this condition by anyone, St John Ambulance, anyone.

  He was going to have to get himself out of this.

  Drenched to the skin, he lay and shivered. He was a dead man. He knew it. Cut off in his prime. Emasculated. It was the monastery for him. Saint Sacco Benedetto’s.

  Inspectre Hovis tried to marshal his thoughts. But marshalled they would not be. They ran riot. They roared about the many things he had never done and now would never do. They kept roaring around certain lady newsreaders, and porny video viewings with the lads from vice squad. And in his delirium they roared around lady newsreaders in porny videos and him in porny videos with lady newsreaders and him at home with a lady news-reader, watching himself onscreen in a porny video with...

  And then. And then.

  Hovis jerked up his head and gaped in the direction of his loins.

  There were now two swords Excalibur. One rising from the outside of his pants. And a new one, rising to join it from within.

  ‘O joy!’ Hovis threw up his hands to the rain. The blade had missed him. His pranger was un-pranged. ‘O joy. O bliss. For this deliverance, much thanks, O Lord.’ The intact Inspectre cupped his hands in prayer. ‘And now, where did that bastard go with those diamonds?’

  At a little after one, the storm blew over and the stars returned to the night sky. In the ice-cream van Cornelius asked, ‘Are we all set?’

  ‘I’m set,’ said Tuppe.

  ‘I’m not altogether set,’ said Anna. ‘Would you kindly run through this plan of yours, just one more time?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Cornelius sat at the driving wheel. ‘Tuppe, as you can see, is now securely belted into the passenger seat. I will switch on the speaker system. Tuppe will play the magic notes. Throughout this musical interlude, you and I will have our fingers firmly plugged into our ears. When the portal opens, I switch off the speaker, Tuppe plays the notes in reverse order to void the spell on himself. If the portal is big enough, I back the van in. If not, we rush it on foot. Grab whatever looks worth grabbing then make our departure. That will be quite enough for one night.’

  ‘I like it.’ Tuppe nodded enthusiastically. ‘I like it very much.’

  Anna didn’t like it. She shook her head.

  ‘Would you prefer that I dropped you home before we start?’

  ‘No way.’ Anna folded her arms. ‘I’m in this now, no matter what.’

  ‘Good, then shall we do it?’

  ‘Let’s
do it.’ Tuppe. raised a small thumb in large support.

  ‘Right.’ Cornelius keyed the van’s ignition and brrrrm’d the engine. ‘Ready, Tuppe?’

  ‘Ready to rock.’ The small fellow tightened his seat belt.

  Cornelius switched on the speaker system. ‘Then blow,’ he whispered.

  And Tuppe blew. The magical notes breathed out into the otherwise still night air, piercing the firmament. Severing that oh-so-slim and fragile little thread, which tethers us all to what we know as ‘reality’.

  Tuppe nodded to Cornelius. The tall boy took his fingers from his ears and switched off the speaker. Tuppe hastily replayed the notes in reverse order, ceased to strain at his seat belt and slumped down. ‘Did it work?’ he enquired.

  Anna peered out through the rear window. ‘Holy Hand of God!’ said she.

  ‘That would be a yes, I think.’ Cornelius scrambled back to join her. Tuppe did likewise. Something was happening. And it was something awful strange. The ancient ivy-hung wall was vibrating. Rattling all about. there came a hissing and a grinding, as of steam being released and vast cog wheels engaging. And then a section of the wall literally plunged into the ground. Dropping away to reveal the yawning maw of proverb. The gateway, or one of them at least, into a world beyond.

  Three faces gazed into it from the rear window. They wore expressions of considerable awe. The long high one on the left said, ‘I think we’ve cracked it.’

  The low and cherubic one on the right nodded in agreement.

  And the very beautiful one in the middle said, ‘Let’s grab that booty.’

  The hideous green muscular thingy stood on Kew Bridge. It was smoking one of Inspectre Hovis’s handmade cigarettes and wearing his regimental necktie. It was looking pretty pleased with itself. And feeling somewhat euphoric, these were rather special cigarettes, after all. It grinned, farted and tossed the little bag of diamonds up and down on the palm of its left claw. Another job jobbed. And gone midnight, that was time and a half. It would put in for its expenses with Mr Kobold as soon as it got back. All that was wanting now was the black cab that was supposed to pick the big green thingy up. Where was that Mulligan?

  Fast asleep in his bed, that’s where Mulligan was. And down in his wretched kitchen, the little red plastic telephone stood on the table. The receiver was off the hook.

  And now upon Kew Bridge stepped unshod feet. A dripping wreck of a man hefted his swordstick in a muddy mitt.

  ‘Right, you bastard,’ whispered Inspectre Hovis. ‘You bally bastard. Enjoy your smoke. A few more puffs and you’re all mine.’

  ‘In and out,’ said the tall boy at the wheel. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Let’s go.’ Anna and Tuppe clung to what they could as Cornelius put the van into reverse. The wheels span on the wet road and Mulligan’s Ices slewed through the open portal.

  From one world to another.

  And then it came a-shuddering to a halt. And then three people looked out from it. Somewhat uncertain of what they should actually do next.

  ‘Lordy Lordy Lordy,’ whistled Tuppe.

  ‘And then some.’ Cornelius tried to take it in. It took a fair amount of taking. They were now parked inside a vast Victorian warehouse. It spread away, acres of it, towards towering walls and rising iron-work. The roof was lost in shadow. What light there was came from no identifiable source.

  The warehouse was here. But it couldn’t be. They all knew it couldn’t. They had driven through a gap in a wall, which led, according to the A-Z, and all reason, surely to the road which lay on the other side. But it didn’t.

  ‘It’s incredible,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘It’s impossible,’ said Tuppe.

  ‘It’s empty!’ said Anna.

  And it was.

  ‘Let’s go see.’ Cornelius swung open the driver’s door and climbed down from the van. He sniffed the air. It was dead. Dry. Nothing lived in this place. Nothing. The tall boy shuddered. There was something deeply unsettling about this huge and empty hall. Tuppe shinned down and dropped to the floor.

  ‘Cornelius.’

  ‘Yes, Tuppe?’

  ‘I don’t think we’re in Kansas any more.’

  ‘That’s very sad,’ said Anna, following him down.

  ‘Well I thought it was quite funny actually. I’ve been saving it up.’

  ‘I liked it,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘Thank you, my friend.’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  ‘So where is all the booty?’ Anna asked. ‘Don’t get me wrong, this is very impressive. But other than for opening it up as a Rave Venue, it sucks.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s just an entrance,’ Tuppe suggested.

  Cornelius searched the horizons. ‘I don’t see any other doors.’

  ‘Perhaps someone got here before us. Cleaned the place out.’

  Cornelius shrugged. ‘Let’s take a look around. We might find something.’

  ‘You take a look.’ Anna folded her arms once more, in a manner which the epic duo were beginning to find mildly annoying.

  ‘Please yourself.’ Cornelius struck off across the deserted floor. ‘I’ll see what I can... Oh ouch!’ He began to hop around on his left leg, clinging to his right knee.

  ‘Is that supposed to be funny?’ Anna asked. ‘Because, if it is, it isn’t.’

  ‘I bumped into something.’ Cornelius hopped to and fro. ‘Something... invisible.’

  ‘Whoa,’ went Tuppe. ‘Invisible.’

  ‘Don’t take the piss. I did. I really did.’ Cornelius ceased his foolish hopping and kicked out, favouring the left foot.

  ‘I think he means it,’ said Anna.

  Tuppe chewed at his lip. ‘Did you ever see Predator?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Anna. ‘Wasn’t that the one where the alien had this electronic camouflage that could bend light? Make itself invisible?’

  ‘That’s the boy. And it ripped out people’s spines and took their skulls for trophies.’

  A dull clang echoed about the walls of the warehouse.

  ‘And Cornelius has just kicked it in the codpiece.’ Tuppe hid his face. ‘Tell me when it’s all over, I don’t want to watch.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ called Cornelius.

  ‘Gotcha?’ Tuppe asked.

  ‘Over here, come on.’

  Tuppe shrugged and hastened over to Cornelius.

  Anna was there before him. ‘What have you got?’

  ‘Grazed knee.’ Cornelius raised a trouser to display the wounded appendage.

  ‘You’ve got really skinny legs,’ Anna told him.

  ‘I’ve got really short legs,’ said Tuppe. ‘They only just reach the ground. What have you found, Cornelius?’

  ‘There’s something here. Something big.’ Cornelius lowered his trouser leg and felt about before him. ‘Here. Feel. Put your hands out.’

  ‘I’m not keen, did you ever see—?’

  ‘Come on. Feel it.’

  Tuppe looked at Anna.

  And Anna looked at Tuppe. They exchanged shrugs. Then they stretched out their hands. Then they both went, ‘Ooh.’

  ‘Something big,’ said Cornelius.

  ‘Covered by fabric,’ said Anna.

  ‘Canvas,’ said Tuppe.

  They traced their hands along, around and about it. ‘It’s quite long,’ said Anna.

  ‘But not too high,’ said Cornelius. ‘I can feel the top of it.’

  ‘And I can see its wheels,’ declared Tuppe.

  ‘Its wheels?’ Cornelius turned around in small circles. ‘Where are you, Tuppe? You’ve vanished.’

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘You’re not.’

  ‘I am. I’m underneath. It’s a car. Covered by some kind of tarpaulin. You can see it from under here. Pull it off.’

  Cornelius gripped a handful of invisible tarpaulin and began to tug. The thing came away, weightlessly.

  The visual effect was quite stunning. Far better, in fact, than anything you could do with the old
Soft Image and Parallax Matador software, even if run on Silicon Graphics Iris 4D workstations, digitally matched and scanned into a large scale frame-store. Of course you really had to be there to fully appreciate it. In the full 3D and everything.

  Anna’s eyes widened as the mantle of invisibility fell away.

  ‘Beautiful,’ said Cornelius Murphy. ‘Beautiful.’

  And it was. Cornelius had seen cars and he had seen cars. Many cars. His adoptive daddy had wangled it for him to test drive some of the very best. But he’d never seen anything quite like this. The car was evidently of pre-war design, but with many features that looked distinctly modern. And it was silver. All over. Silver. Not as in silver paint. But as in silver. Polished, burnished silver. It was long and broad-bodied, yet the lines were sleek and aerodynamic. Flared fenders that swept into the shell without visible join. High bumpers and trailing fins.

  ‘What make of car is it?’ Anna jigged from one foot to the other.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Cornelius paced slowly about the marvellous automobile, peering in at the windows, lightly brushing the polished bodywork with his sensitive fingers, holding down his cap and shaking his head all the while.

  Tuppe climbed to his feet and joined the tall boy in his perambulations. ‘Is it real?’ was his question.

  Cornelius shrugged.

  ‘It looks fresh off the production line. But it’s not, is it?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Cornelius reached out and tried a door handle. The door clicked open. Cornelius lowered his face and took a little sniff. Showroom fresh. He pulled the door wide open and prepared to climb into the car.

  ‘Careful, Cornelius. You never know.’

  ‘Don’t be fearful.’ Cornelius settled into the driving seat. It was very comfortable. Green leather upholstery squeaked in a posh, exclusive manner. The steering wheel was of shining golden wood. Cornelius ran his hands about it. Savouring the feel. He studied the dashboard. The milometer displayed a row of seven stylized zeros.

  ‘It’s never been driven.’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’ Anna flung open the passenger door and dropped down next to Cornelius. ‘It’s booty, isn’t it? What do you think it’s worth?’