“Sebastian?” she said, taking a step forward.
“Here boss.” said Romney in her head. I figured you didn’t need me anymore. Besides. I found out what the diamonds are for.”
“We have?” she said and Romney chuckled.
“Over where I was when I just became discorporeal. Go there.”
Victoria walked across the room, as she did so she saw a small Babbage engine that had been converted to what looked to her to be some form of transmitter.
“It’s a transmitter I think.” she said.
“It is.” said Romney. “It is transmitting a message in hexadecimal. Look up at the roof. I nearly missed it to be honest. I only saw it by accident.”
Victoria looked up at the roof and gasped as she saw a huge metal spike jutting from the curved ceiling and out into the night air through a gap in the canopy of the roof itself. She used her enhanced vision to zoom in and saw that long metallic spikes lined the metal rod, and at its tip were arrow like fins, in which diamonds were aligned.
“It is a transmitter.” she said. “But it is not transmitting radio waves. I think we have found the star of Ashida as well as quite a few other diamonds I should imagine.”
“No.” said Romney. “Not radio waves. It is more like light waves. I have never seen anything like it before.”
“A message transmitted by light.” she said, staring back at the Babbage engine before her. “You said that the message was in hexadecimal.”
“Yes.” said Romney.
“What does it say?”
“It is a standard pattern repeated once every thirty seconds. The message never varies and repeats constantly.
“What does it say?” whispered Victoria, repeating herself.
“Well that’s the odd part” he said, “It is not words. It is numbers.”
“Numbers?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Mostly, yes. There are two letters. It isn’t hexadecimal.”
“What are they?” she asked.
“51.3333N 0.5489W”
“Anything else?” she enquired.
“Just that. Never anything else on repeat for… well forever.”
“Coordinates.” she said. “I will access the data clouds. “She paused for a brief second, looking puzzled. “Odd.” she said, “Just an open space really. Nothing important at all. I will pass the location to Vaillant and he can send a squad of policemen to have a look. I suspect all they will find is leaves and mud though.”
“Very strange.” sighed Romney. “Where is it?”
“Horsell Common.” said Victoria, “Nothing there at all.”
“Let the Inspector deal with it then.” said Romney.
Victoria looked down at the small Babbage engine and raising her hand blew it apart with one tight burst from the pulse beam weapon in her hand. Above her the transmitter instantly went dark.
“That’s enough of that.” she sniffed. “Any idea where it was transmitting to?”
“None.” said Romney. “Completely new technology to me.”
“Well it may very well be that we shall never find out.” she sighed. “We will leave now, Romney. We will let Inspector Vaillant and his officers deal with retrieving the diamonds from up there. I am weary and need a full diagnostics check.”
“The sooner the better too.” sighed Romney and Victoria made her way back to the skimmer. Once aboard she did not need the ship to be misted and so progress was much faster. Romney monitored the autopilot and Victoria contacted Inspector Vaillant through the skimmer’s communication system.
Romney looked at the factory they were leaving behind them through the rear cabin window, the top of the transmitter only vaguely visibly jutting from Hugo Topping’s workshop. He pondered that if you did not know what you were looking for you would not know that it was there in the first place.
“Horsell Common.” thought Romney. He sighed. Victoria was probably right. It was a curious thing for certain but they would probably never know for sure what the message meant or for whom it was intended. If indeed it was intended for anyone at all.
Behind them the factory slowly shrank into the distance in the moonlight, the countryside that surrounded the oddly placed factory swallowing it up. On the horizon thick white clouds gathered, but they were not yet far enough north to cover the moon. Soon they would though, and with them they would bring rain. Those that were skilled enough to know these things would look in that direction and say, “London is getting it. Heavy downpours too.” or the like.
Above it all, the sky was black and clear for now, the stars twinkling down as the skimmer took them home. There was the North star, the sailors guide, and Venus, the goddess of love. For those that knew where to look though it was on such a clement night just possible to spot the deepest colour of them all, a crimson star blinking slowly but regularly in the dark night sky. This was the god of war. Red, red Mars.
Romney’s Day Off
The steam wagon hung over the edge of the cliff, its sleek metallic and brass covered bodywork gleaming in the bright summer sun. The wagon was teetering on the very edge of the cliff, the front of it suspended in the air and being kept from plummeting to the beach a good one hundred or so feet below by the rear end of the engine which at this point was the heaviest part of it. The situation however was not being improved by the young man hanging from the front bumper of the steam wagon by his braces.
He was tall and broad shouldered, his hair flopping down over his eyes. He was also hanging face down over the drop and doing his very best to keep very very still, the car see sawing on the cliff top above him. He did also seem to be screaming.
A lot.
On the bonnet of the car was a young dark haired women dressed in an elegant white summer dress, a floppy white hat on her head. She edged slowly towards the front of the steam car on the bonnet, doing her very best not to tip the car over the edge.
‘Fanelda!” gasped the young man who was hanging in mid-air from the car bumper, “Please don't come any further. Your additional weight will end the steam wagon over the edge!”
“But what can I do, Romney?” she shouted, revealing that she had a relatively strong South Wales accent.
“Go back to the farm and get help!” he shouted, “And stay clear of those two silly old sods from the village!”
The woman on the bonnet nodded and began to slowly edge back towards the rear of the car, pausing only once as the vehicle slipped slightly forward, sending the man dangling by his braces swinging through the air.
“Silly old sod, you say?” came a voice from below. Romney sighed with grim acceptance as a small broom rose from below him and hovered in mid-air. Astride it sat a somewhat spritely looking silver haired woman who wagged a finger at him in what looked like mock annoyance and cackled loudly. She wore a long black robe and a pointed hat. Upon the end of the broom sat a small thin ginger cat that was bizarrely, smiling wildly at the man.
“Nice ta peep yo' again my homie” said the cat, smiling broadly. The man hanging from the car winced but otherwise ignored the animal.
“I use the term lightly, mistress Alice.” said the man and the woman cackled just as a thick swarm of bees appeared from the side of the cliff and made, well, a bee-line for him. “The cushion had very little to do with me at all!” shouted Romney, but it was of no use. The bees settled on the bonnet of the car and began to watch him very closely.
“I saw him first, Mother Alice!” shouted a voice from the clifftop as an man dressed in what appeared to be a worn leather overall peered over the edge. “As sure as I am the Chief Exorcist Demon Hunter of Ponty Bodkin and the environs thereon, then that demon is mine!”
“Is there anyone else?” asked Romney in exasperation. “Neasden ladies jam club or the Sefton Barking choristers? Perhaps a visiting ecclesiastical jigsaw piecing club? Have I missed anyone?
As if in response to his exclamation over the edge of the cliff peeped a small skeleton that raised a fist to him angrily, foll
owed by the appearance of what appeared to be an incredibly enraged rabbit and a goat that had a simple look about it as if it was just pleased to actually be there in the first place.
“Dear God.” said Romney in resignation, “I really do wish that I had not been told to take a day off!”
***
Victoria took a sip of her tea and sat back in the cradle. It was difficult to sit upright with the wires attached to her but the tea made it worth the effort. Since her encounter with Hugo Topping the day before Romney had insisted that she run a full system check. It was the reason she had built the cradle in the basement of her house she was now attached to. This meant that she had little option other than to concur with her demon assistant's plan.
“We can close your systems down entirely for say twelve hours.” he had told her. “It won’t hurt, boss. It will just be like having a sleep.”
“So sleeping increases the speed of the tests and any necessary repairs?”
“That’s it yes. It’s an automatic process really. I press a button here once the necessary cradle cables are attached and twelve hours later you wake up as good as new.”
Victoria looked at the cradle and nodded as Viktor popped his head around the door.
“It is today I do ze interviews for ze role of manservant.” He said, raising an eyebrow as he saw that Victoria was securely attached to the cradle. “Would today be inconvenient? I can alvays request them to return a different day.”
“No.” said Victoria, watching him as he clapped an eye on the tools hanging above a workbench at the back of the room and began mentally rearranging them. “It is fine. Manservants are your responsibility anyway Viktor. I will leave it to you. Whosoever you select is good enough for me.”
“You’re leaving him to it alone?” asked Romney, Viktor raising an eyebrow and pretending that he could not tune in to their mental conversation.
“Viktor is I am sure a fine judge of character. I will be happy with his decision.” she said out loud to avoid any embarrassment to either of them. She found it mildly amusing that nobody could hear her conversations with Romney at all. Except for Viktor, and he spent all of his time pretending that he couldn’t. Romney of course used this to his full advantage.
“Excellent.” he said. “I vill be on my way then. Zer are five candidates spaced throughout the day. I had best prepare myself.” With that he gave a slight bow of his head and left them to it.
“I hope you know what you are doing.” said Romney. “Asking him to pick someone may not be such a great idea, boss. After all, he is a vamp…”
“Enough!” said Victoria quickly. “He is very sensitive you know.”
“Sensitive?” repeated Romney in disbelief, “Well if you say so boss. I can’t wait to see who he is going to employ. I for one am not going to babysit him all day while he does his interviews. It’s all up to him.”
“So what will you do all day?” she asked, sitting up and sipping the tea once again, before allowing herself to slide back down into the cradle.
“I will watch the dials.” he said lamely, “Dust around a bit if I have the time,”
“You just said it is an automatic process.” she laughed, “What on Earth are you watching the dials for? You should have a day off Romney. It will do you the world of good.”
“A day off?” he said incredulously. “A day off from what?”
“Me.” she laughed. “You must get bored with me sometimes I am sure. Besides. You must be used to leaving me alone. Like when I you know?”
Romney stayed resolutely silent.
“Like when I have a bath and what have you.” she said finally, amazed to find herself reddening a little. Romney continued to remain absolutely silent however.
“Romney?” She said. There was a pause for a moment and she was about to call him again when he solemnly replied.
“Yes?”
“You don’t watch me when I am in the bath do you?”
There was a silence as Victoria found herself reddening even more.
“Look boss.” said Romney finally, “I am a Demon of the Third Circle of Hell, provisioned to be your assistant. Yet I am still a demon.” He paused slightly, now sounding almost embarrassed himself. “Of course I watch you in the bath. As I say I am a demon after all.”
“Oh.” she said, a thousand and other questions suddenly falling into her mind, the answers of which she was suddenly too embarrassed to hear, never mind ask in the first place. “Well that just proves it.” she said finally, “You definitely need a day off. You must be sick of the sight of me.”
“No.” said Romney, “I am not.”
“Well I command you. You must go about your business all on your own for the next twelve hours.”
“But I…” began the demon but Victoria carried on.
“It is a command. Twelve hours off. A holiday if you like. A proper day off.”
“What shall I do with myself?”
“I don’t know.” said Victoria, “Take Fanelda on a picnic or something. Take the steam wagon. It is entirely up to you.”
“Fanelda is a ghost.” said Romney.
“Yes she is. But I am sure she would enjoy being asked. The way you and Viktor follow her around I should imagine she would be pleased to be out of the house for a while I would have thought.”
“Right. Well maybe I will.”
“Well I am ready now then.” said Victoria, putting her teacup down after a final sip of tea and closing her eyes.
“See you in twelve hours boss.” said Romney.
“Have a nice day off.” She said, “And be good.”
Romney nodded glumly and pushed the button. Instantly Victoria fell asleep.
***
Alice juggled the small wicker basket that held her shopping from one hand to the other and reached for the door key in her cloak pocket. The wicker basket was pretty much standard equipment for all witches, Alice knew, especially if it had a cloth on the top of it that you could hide the contents of the basket with. The irony of a witch possessing a wicker basket was of course never lost on any witch, and hardly ever failed to raise a smile from even the hardest of witches when they thought about it.
Struggling to get the key out she placed the bag down on the doorstep and putting the key in the lock, opened the door. She muttered a small spell under her breath to dispel the intruder hex on the large coconut hair welcome mat in the hall and stepped inside. A small ginger cat sat at the bottom of the stairs watching her.
“Did yo’ get thinking to get my goddamn' food witch?” said the cat and Alice tutted under her breath, closing the door behind her as she did so.
“One day you will learn some manners, Cat.” she said and the cat strode off into the hall and sat in the kitchen as if waiting for her to reveal exactly what it was that she had bought.
“I be waitin' fo' yo'” said the cat from the other room. Alice removed her coat and hung it up.
“In my own good time, Cat.” she said, “In my own good time, and any more lip from you and you’ll spend the rest of the day as a frog.” Wisely, seeing the look on Alice’s face the cat said nothing.
She wondered, and it was not the first time that this had crossed her mind, why she had never given the cat a name, referring to it merely as, “Cat”. Succinct as it was she always felt a little guilty about not having picked a nicer name for the feline, or any name at all, actually. It was usually at this point that she remembered the arguments she had suffered when she was trying to pick a name for the cat.
“Lucky.” she had said as the cat looked at her through slitted eyes as if it was about to pounce on her and cut her jugular vein, or at the very least was imagining such a scenario in its small ginger furry head. “You are ginger I know, not black. But black cats are said to be lucky and I don’t see why just black cats should have the monopoly on all of the luck.”
“Therez nothang lucky 'about me, believe yo'' me. Pick anotha name.”
So on it had gone. Cat had ob
jected to every name that she had come up with, and had none to contribute itself.
“What the hell do I need a name fo' anyway? names r' stupid n' old fashioned” Had been cat’s final take on the matter and so it was set. From then onwards the cat had been called, “Cat”. This Alice found was not entirely a bad thing. As far as witches went she really did not pay a great deal of attention to the conventionalities that witches generally relied on. “The Dummy’s Guide to Witchcraft” for example had this to say about a house that a witch should live in:
“Your house must be in the middle of a thickly wooded hollow. To get to your abode any visitors must scramble through thick briar or brambles patches, follow twisted forest paths, the trees close and hanging over the way. A stagnant pond or rippling brook are also other good options.”
Alice of course was having none of it. As far as she was concerned a nice little two up two down with full ensuite was the only way to go. The only nod she gave to the book's suggestion was a large Willow tree in the garden, but that was there really to help the lawn as the soil was full of clay and had drainage problems that the Willow solved easily. In fact, the Willow seemed to be thriving.
Her lack of attention to the generally subscribed to conventions, did not stop her receiving clients of course. Only yesterday there was a love potion, the day before an unction for assisting in the as the man described it “problems with the plumbing”. All in all it led to a cheerful existence in which Alice was not officially a witch as such, but was definitely the person you would go to if you were looking for something that did not quite fit the brief of your local general practitioner.
There was also the unofficial business as well. When the local council had commissioned a new Zeppelin tower in the village it did of course have to be given the approval that a priest or vicar struggled to provide tangible results for. A witch’s blessing of course was a much more powerful, if not a necessary thing. Which was not quite the view of the local mayor, Ted Everington, who had got the local priest in to bless the site when ground was broken on the building of the new one hundred foot Zeppelin docking tower.
The Complete Adventures of Victoria Neaves & Romney Page 25