The Dave Hinchy Code

by Richard Ainsworth

  “I'm using Biedermeier cards, rather than Tarot. I find them so much more direct and bluntly honest. I do find that there is a great lack of directness and honesty in the world these days. Don't you agree, Doctor?” Ruby had begun to employ an infuriatingly twee, sugary, little-girl-lost voice which was happily winding Hariman up a treat.

  “I said, read the cards”. Hariman was hissing his words slowly through gritted teeth by now.

  “As you wish. OK. Now let us see…” Ruby placed her pince-nez on the bridge of her nose and then began to turn the cards over. “I shall have to translate for you, Doctor. Although the cards are graphically pictorial, they have their inscriptions in an Eastern European language... Here we go... Card the first. Oooo! Now that IS interesting!”

  The picture on the card was that of a young girl sitting at a table, with a picture frame laid out before her. She was gazing through an open window across a bay into the distance.

  “Chezhnia... Desire!” breathed Ruby, altogether a little too dramatically. “I see that your plans stem from an old desire – quite how old, I have not the faintest idea. Let us press on... The second card tells us of obstacles which may come to thwart you…”

  At the mention of this, the Hariman shifted in his seat and drew a little closer.

  “Hmmm... Udova.” Ruby peeped at him from above the rim of her pince-nez. “You understand, dear Doctor?” Seeing from his expression that he obviously did not, she explained: “Udova is the widow, the old wise woman; faithful, knowledgeable, a good and reliable friend, yet a tenacious enemy. I wonder who that could describe? Any thoughts?”

  Ruby gave Hariman one of her sweetest smiles. Not waiting for an answer from him, she continued with the reading:

  “The third denotes the situation you find yourself in at the present moment. Aaaah, temper, temper, Doctor! The third card is Neprilika. Anger. For your own good you must learn to curb your emotions; it isn't good for the digestion. As a Doctor, you, more than anybody, should know this!”

  Ruby permitted herself a slight smile at Hariman's expense; Hariman did not see the joke.

  “Are you ready for card number four? This card tells us who or what is working behind the scenes, for you, or agin! Svechenik! The priest! Well... We all know that Reverend Phullaposi has been a good conduit for you don't we?”

  Hariman curled his lip as a dog would, ready to bark.

  Before he could do so, Ruby had carried on to the next card.

  “Influences,” she announced grandiosely: “All those things seen and unseen which help or hamper our way... Sudac, the judge... Maybe He who judges us all will play his part in what we are seeing here?”

  Hariman said nothing, he merely hissed between his teeth again in an impatient manner.

  “The final card, Doctor Hariman. Please remember that a reading only tells us what will be if we do nothing to avert the natural course of events. We all have some choice in destiny, but it is up to us to make the right choices... Are you sure you want to see this last turn of fate?” Ruby's tone was deadly serious.

  “I told you to read the cards. Now finish it, you bothersome old wart”.

  Without even looking at the card, Ruby flipped it over. Hariman's eyes widened as he saw the image. The card showed a skeleton in the middle of a graveyard, grimly gripping a scythe; below was the word, 'smert'. Death.

  “Are you satisfied now? No good can come of what you seek. You should know that your imminent demise is but a short while away if you continue on this stupid path of folly and destruction. Are you not afraid, Doctor Hariman?”

  After the initial shock, Hariman composed himself, and then, amazingly, he started to giggle, his giggle turned into a laugh and his laugh turned into a howl of hysterics.

  “Afraid?” he guffawed. “Afraid? Afraid of what? A rotund, mad old woman who performs parlour tricks for the amusement and astonishment of village idiots?” His booming laughter continued, unabated: “I have nothing to fear, except fear itself! Now keep out of my way, and when this is all over, I may see fit to ignore our little squabbles and let you keep some of your wits! These dismal little cards prove nothing!” He spat the words out with as much contempt as he could muster. “Do not cross me witch, or I shall crush you under my foot like the insignificant bug you are. Stick to your own business, and leave me to mine! For my anger is mighty! I have waited for this day, this hour, and this moment for far too long to be dissuaded by a modern day wannabe Wiccan. Clear my path and be gone!”

  His eyes rolled, turning the colour of wild hot embers as he spoke. He stood up from the table, turned on his heel and made to leave the tent.

  He had gripped the curtain and was about to storm out, when Ruby called to him.

  “One more thing, Hariman,” she piped.

  The Doctor paused, his back still to her.

  “You have forgotten this...”

  From her deck of cards, Ruby produced a card that was not in keeping with the rest, and offered it to Hariman. It was a plain, pink-coloured card, with some simple words printed in black on one side. It was, in fact, a card from the game of Monopoly.

  “'Get Out of Jail Free'? What kind of joke is this?” asked Hariman, irritated.

  Ruby smiled benignly at him.

  “No joke, Doctor. It is a second chance. Something that your associates would never dream of handing out so freely, and with benevolence and love. Not many of us receive them. Now, go. Go in peace; take Nutter and Devizes with you, if you wish. For I warn you - if you try to pursue your original foul plot to its terrible conclusion, then it is not simply a tubby, wittering, sandal-wearing, mushroom-munching, tea-soaked old maid like me that you will have to contend with. Oh, no. Others, too, stand ready to stop you. And there will be more to come if we should fail. I impress on you, Doctor, the Forces of Good shall never surrender. We shall chase you wherever you are, from here to the Adriatic, from the Baltic to the Eastern steppes; we shall shut you out and seal you away with an iron will and an iron curtain.”

  Ruby's face was stony serious and the air between them was heavy with malevolent intent.

  They stood there staring each other, eye to eye.

  Silence.

  Hariman then quickly flashed Ruby his warmest reptilian smile, put his bony pale hand to his lips, blew her a kiss, and winked.

  “Catch you later, blossom, ” he laughed.

  Then he swiftly departed through the curtains.

  Chapter 14

  Reverend Phullaposi Becomes Bogged Down

  It did not take the Reverend Phullaposi very long to find Dave Hinchy. The hapless Postman was idling by the hoopla stall, chomping his way through a huge candy floss, the colour of which clashed hideously with his hair (still a shocking hue of blue). The comedic value of this had not been lost on the children at the fête, most of whom were now crowding around, giggling at Dave's garish coiffure.

  The Reverend strode purposefully towards his quarry, pointed at him, and shouted:

  “Oi! Coco the clown! Bog! Now! Move it!”

  Not even breaking his stride, the clergyman jerked his thumb in the general direction of the privy, and continued on his way. Startled, Dave limped off after him to see what the fuss was, still ploughing through the mountain of sticky pink floss.

  Inside the Privy, the Reverend immediately began tearing a sizeable strip off a decidedly nonplussed Dave.

  “Have you any idea of the peril that you have placed not only yourself, but our entire community in? By opening up this portal and inviting Hariman here, you could bring obliteration to us all!”

  Dave shrugged his sloped shoulders in confusion and began blithely parroting the point of view that had been carefully spoon-fed to him by Hariman and the Nutters.

  “Don't be so daft, Rev. The Doc and his friends are just planning to set up a charity, that's all – to offer a helping hand to those who deserve it. The Doc says his organisation will benefit of all those who choose to commit themselves to its cause; will help them rise in the wo
rld like – like a bright morning star…”

  The Reverend’s already manic eyes nearly popped out of his head: “M-Morning Star?” Whatever fears that he might have had previously of Hariman had now been magnified a hundredfold. “Those were his very words?”

  Dave nodded, smugly.

  “You bog-eyed, bungling, banjo-twanging twonk! The Morning Star! Lucifer, Son of The Morning! Does that name ring any bells with you, Einstein? Lucifer?! The Apostate? The Fallen Angel? Satan?! And you – yes, YOU! – have contracted yourself to him. Consigned yourself to him. Do you honestly think in your wildest, most deluded, demented dreams, that Hariman, Nutter, Devizes or, God help us all, Lucifer himself, could give a tinker’s cuss for your benefit or well being in this entire charade?”

  The Reverend was seething.

  “Don't kid yourself, David. Once your usefulness to this pack of jackals is over, you will be tossed aside into the abyss and forgotten about within the same instant. And understand this, David. If that happens, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that you, I, nor indeed any other power, here or Above, can do about it. Do I make myself clear? Hariman may be able to give you some tiny token or trinket – a modicum of pleasure, a taste of worldly success – for some small, insignificant time, here in Widdowshins. But, David, mark this well: Eternity is a very long time... You may think that waiting for the 506 bus on a cold rainy morning takes forever. But that is nothing in comparison with Eternal Damnation – especially when you have signed a pact that will condemn you to spend that time in suffering and pain. Come, David. Take my hand. Take it, now. Renounce Hariman. Reject his Master, and all his works. Do it now. Please. Then together we can go forward and banish him, back to the nether regions where he belongs. Do it now and I swear that you will be absolved and everything will be OK.”

  The bewildered Postman stared at the Reverend's impassioned, earnest, pleading face and his outstretched hand. His eyes narrowed suspiciously behind his large, round, glasses. Finally, he shook his head and let out a long, low whistle from between his teeth.

  “Have you finished? Phew!... Man... You have really have flipped your wig this time... I don’t know whether to laugh or call for a van to come and take you away. All this stupid talk of Devils, demons, hobgoblins, ghoulies, ghosties and fings wot go bump in the night. Pure tosh, the lot of it. Hariman told me you'd try something like this. He said you’d even claim that he was Old Nick himself! He warned me not to listen. He knew you’d be jealous because I’m going to be a major player and you’ll only have a bit part, scrambling for the crumbs while I'm at the head table making all the really big important decisions.”

  “David... David, please. You have to listen to me...”

  “Nah. I don't think so. You’re crazy.... Ta-ta, Padre. I’m off”.

  With that, he shook his bespectacled head once again in bemusement, turned his back on the Reverend and shuffled out of the privy.

  The door swung back shut on its own, with a forlorn clatter against the latch.

  Reverend Phullaposi was alone. And at that moment, he felt it; totally and utterly. He turned his head heavenward, breathed out a long, long sigh and then yelled from the very bottom of his lungs:

  “Give me strength!”

  Chapter 19

  Nephthys Knight

  Ruby’s tent was still closed to the public. She had summoned Magpie Jack, Tobias and Pearl back to her tiny fabric fortress for one final briefing. Once they had all arrived and stopped jostling and mumbling to each other, she began:

  “As I have already intimated to you all, I have stumbled upon an important fixture within our parish, namely, The Privy of Simon. Yes, it would seem that the humble outhouse in the churchyard is in reality a portal to other dimensions and reality levels; between this world and other, darker domains. Not only that, but it has already been used by followers of the Left Hand Path for evil means; to summon a certain malevolent entity here to Widdowshins. An entity currently masquerading as a member of the medical profession.”

  There was an audible gasp from those in the tent. Even Tobias gasped, though he wasn’t sure why. Everything Ruby was saying sounded big, important and scary, however, so he supposed that if he ever were going to gasp, then this would be the right time to do it.

  “In order to close down this pernicious little passageway and to return the horrible Dr Hariman to his rightful abode from which he should never have been allowed to escape from in the first place, we must employ some rather low cunning, and some equally High Magick. Then we must carefully seal the door so that neither he, nor any other less than desirable denizen of the deep, black abyss, can ever return through it.”

  “But how do we get him there? Surely he’ll be expecting us to do try something?” Pearl asked.

  Ruby smiled.

  “We shall use the most potent and destructive weapon we have. Hariman’s own greed and vanity”.

  Ruby outlined her plan. It involved all of them pulling together, with perfect co-ordination and split-second timing. But bearing in mind the doubtful reliability of certain members of her team (ie Tobias), Ruby had also built in one or two ‘contingencies’ should something unexpected happen and the whole scenario end up going a little ‘sideways’.

  “The important thing is to remain ultra watchful at all times, as we can never quite be sure what else Hariman, Nutter or Devizes might have hidden up their grubby sleeves.”

  With those words, Ruby sent them all about their business.

  It was time to save the world.

  Chapter 20

  Hariman is Stage Struck

  The village fête was coming to a close. The fires for the ‘folk roast’ had been lit and all the stalls were being either tided up, or taken down, that is, apart from those that had already fallen down, of course. The Bring and Buy had all been bought. The Tombola had rolled, and the winners declared. Mr. Atkinson had given out his remaining coconuts to the local children hanging round his stall. The bunting was still fluttering, albeit a little limply.

  The sun was ebbing away; yet the roses were still blooming. They seemed larger than ever; their thorny branches ever more densely entangled; their scent increasingly overwhelming.

  The fête was to officially end at seven o’clock in the evening. This was at Hariman’s suggestion. He had also proposed that, as it would take a few minutes to tidy up a bit and for people to settle down, his speech should take place at six minutes past seven, precisely. Although the Reverend had considered this request a little peculiar, he had agreed; and after that he didn’t really think much more about it.

  The church bell chimed seven, and, as per the Reverend's earlier request, all the stall holders and villagers began drifting dutifully towards the platform near to the old church tower, for “a few words from our main sponsor.”

  On the podium, together with Reverend Phullaposi, were The Mayor, Trixie, Bubbles, Alice Nutter, Liz Devizes and of course, Hariman, flashing his serene crocodile smile.

  Magpie Jack was in an over-looking tree. Tobias had taken up his allotted position next to the platform steps. Pearl and Ruby were as close to the podium as they could physically be without drawing the attention of the Doctor and his henchwomen.

  The bell finished tolling.

  Everybody waited.

  Nothing.

  Hariman, Devizes and Nutter stood smiling at the crowd, nodding in hello to this person or that, but not a word nor a sound came from any of their lips.

  The Mayor gave a highly theatrical and impatient “Cough, cough,” and glowered at Hariman; tap-tapping his large, ornate pocket-watch pointedly, gesturing with his free hand, and mouthing irritably for the Doctor to “get a move on.”

  Hariman still made no sound; he just continued to gaze out at all the villagers, smiling his soulless smile.

  After a couple more minutes, the crowd was becoming more than a little restless. There was a sullen, surly hubbub of questions, as each began to ask his neighbour: “What's the delay? Why doesn’t Ha
riman just get on with it? When are the festivities going to start?”

  People started to shift from foot to foot, muttering to each other and coughing loudly enough to give the hint that they were expecting something to happen, something good, right now; and, what's more, that if nothing did happen, then they would make something happen.

  By this point they were all getting just a little bit… mutinous.

  The increasingly strong scent of the roses was not helping matters, either; it really was uncomfortably overpowering now...

  With the practised eye of a skilled politician, Mayor Whittle began looking around him for the quickest escape route in case things turned ugly. He was rapidly beginning to regret giving his chauffeur, bodyguard, and general oppo Paul Bassey the weekend off to visit family in Tiger Bay. Paul was the man to have in your corner in a crisis.

  “Come on, lad,” Whittle snapped. “Say summat. Yer losin' 'em, y'fool! Look at 'em. It's about to kick off any second!”

  Hariman sniggered. Abruptly, he lifted up his arm, checked his wrist watch, noted that it registered six minutes past seven precisely, nodded his head to Devizes and Nutter and began:

  “You might be wondering why someone of such importance as I would ever wish to display such... passionate benevolence to your church-fête-holding, morris-dancing, cricket-loving, dwarf-daffodil-cultivating, neat-lawned, excruciatingly boring, tiny, trivial, backwater village?”

  Mutters were getting louder with each slur that the Doctor uttered; he was not making any new friends, he continued in the same disdainful, imperious voice.

  “No matter. I have been awaiting this moment for a long time. A very, very long time. I’ve been longing for it, you might say. For one hundred and twenty years. Yes. I know. That is indeed a long time. A lifetime and more. And now, thanks to your lowly local postman, David, I have a place here, at last, amongst you. His gracious invitation for me to come here won’t be forgotten. For although I have my doubters,”