Honour be Damned

by David Bishop

  "What took you so long?" Spatchcock asked wryly.

  "Traffic was a bitch," Dante replied before turning his attention to the princess. "Well, your royal highness? What have you got to say for yourself?"

  Marie-Anne pointed at Dante accusingly. "This is the man who tried to murder my father!" She shouted at the crowd of thousands upon thousands gathered around them. "This is the man who butchered your beloved Queen Mother, Babs!"

  "You know I had nothing to do with those attacks, princess. You know who pulled the trigger and you know who paid the assassins. You've known it all from the start, but made sure it happened far enough away from you so you could maintain deniable culpability!"

  "Will nobody rid me of these lies, these falsehoods?" the princess screamed. "Marksmen! At my signal, kill this accursed Russian dog and his accomplices where they stand! Ready!"

  "Wouldn't this be a good moment to take cover?" Flintlock suggested.

  "Aim!"

  "I think she fancies me," Dante replied.

  Marie-Anne stepped aside, giving all the sharpshooters a clean target. "Fi-"

  "Hold that order!" a regal voice boomed around Trafalgar Square from the vast holographic display suspended on the northern side. The crowd dropped to one knee in homage. The familiar face of King Henry smiled down upon his subjects, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Hello, everybody!"

  "Your Majesty," Dante said, breathing a sigh of relief before joining the others on bended knee. Only the princess remained standing, a pout on her face and both hands on her hips.

  "Now, what's all this nonsense about you trying to kill me, Nicola?"

  "I don't know, sire," Dante replied.

  The king turned away from the camera. "I can't hear what he's saying. Can't you get a microphone pointed at him out there?" Satisfied with whatever reply he got, Henry looked at the camera again. "What were you saying, Nicola?"

  "I did not try to kill you, sire - I saved you from the assassin's bullets. I only wish I had been fast enough to save your mother as well."

  "Old Babs had a good innings. For what it's worth, I can confirm young Nicola had nothing to do with the attack on me, nor did her chums. I invited Nicola to Britannia to protect me from assassins and that's exactly what she did."

  "But, father-" the princess tried to protest.

  "Tish and pish, my girl, I'll hear nothing more from you. You've caused enough trouble while I've been laid up. Once this is all over you're going straight back to the Tower. Consider yourself well and truly grounded, my dear!"

  "Your Majesty," Dante called out. "Another has been falsely accused of conspiring to assassinate you, a blameless operative from your secret service known as Agent Goodnight. But she possesses evidence that will show the identities of the true killers and the name of the person who hired them to attack you."

  Marie-Anne flung herself at Dante, her fingernails flailing the air like a bird of prey's talons. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you," she vowed. But Spatchcock and Flintlock stepped in front of Dante to protect him, keeping the princess a safe distance away.

  "The assassins were two bounty hunters named Boyle and Dobie," Dante continued. "Both have since died in violent circumstances, and nobody need weep for them."

  "Dashed glad to hear that, Nicola," Henry said. "But who hired these bounders?"

  "That was me," another voice cut in from the king's bedside. A gun appeared on the edge of the holographic display's picture aimed at Henry's head. The crowd gasped in horror. Few of them recognised the voice that was threatening the king, but Dante did.

  "Why did you do it?" he demanded of the unseen voice. "Why did you hire two bounty hunters to murder the king... Inspector Rucka?"

  The inspector stepped closer to the king, putting himself into the picture. He wanted to be certain everyone could see his face at the moment of triumph. "For years I worked my way up through the Britannia Royal Constabulary, proving myself over and over again. But what recognition did I receive for all my hard work? Next to nothing. And why? Because I refused to become one of the silly handshake brigade who still control so much of our life in this once great nation! Finally, I decided enough was enough. I would strike a blow for the decent people of Britannia. I would have the king murdered, so her royal highness would take her rightful place on the throne."

  "So why not pull the trigger yourself?" Dante demanded from Trafalgar Square.

  "Because I was ambitious and a fool," Rucka replied. "I knew this would be seen as the crime of the century. What better way to ensure my advancement by solving it, proving once and for all my genius as a detective. When the king invited you to Britannia, I knew it was the perfect opportunity. I was foolish because I entrusted the task to two bounty hunters and they let this old man escape them."

  "And my daughter knew about all of this?" Henry asked.

  "I gave her hints, enough to know her time was coming, but not enough to incriminate her. She is innocent, for once in her life," the inspector replied.

  "Why come out of hiding now?" Dante demanded. "Why tell us all this?"

  Rucka smiled. "Because after I murder the king, I will turn the gun on myself. You already have the proof of my guilt, there was no hiding place from that - but I can still rid Britannia of this old fool! He has been an embarrassment to us all for far too long. When he dies, a new era will begin." The inspector pressed the gun against the side of Henry's head. "Goodbye, your majesty - and good riddance."

  A single shot rung out, a shot that was heard all across Britannia.

  EPILOGUE

  "Touch what hurts, admire what's pretty."

  - Russian proverb

  "Midge bites are painful and irritating, no more so than when they occur on sensitive parts of the anatomy. For example, a single bite to the male genitalia can cause itching, redness and unsightly swelling. In such cases, all sexual activity should be avoided until the swelling has gone and the bites have healed. Certain creams can be helpful in speeding this process, but take care during application not to cause unnecessary arousal as this only leads to further frustration."

  - Extract from The Duffer's Guide to Britannia, 2670 edition

  "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it in time," Dante said. "I mean, could you have cut it any closer before you put a bullet through Rucka's head?"

  "Probably not," Penelope conceded. "There, how does that feel?"

  "Better, but now the front is starting to itch again."

  "Already? I only just finished putting ointment on there."

  Dante shrugged. "Can I help it if I'm extra sensitive below the waist at the moment?"

  Two days had passed since the death of Inspector Rucka ended Dante's latest adventure in Britannia. The king had granted royal pardons to all those previously accused of trying to assassinate him. Princess Marie-Anne was back in the Tower of London, still vowing to have her vengeance against Dante, and the money Rucka had embezzled to pay Boyle and Dobie was back in the proper civil service accounts.

  To celebrate not being a fugitive anymore, Dante had checked into the bridal suite of London's most expensive hotel. Spatchcock and Flintlock were given the room next door, but had been warned not to disturb their friend. "I've spent the past week being chased, hunted, shot at, bitten by bloodthirsty insects and generally put through the wringer," he told them. "Right now, all I want is a bath, a good meal and a bed to sleep in. Do what you like but don't disturb me! Got it?"

  He waited until both men were out of the hotel before calling Penelope on her private line and inviting her over. He had hoped her acceptance signalled a thawing in relations between them at last. His hope had risen further when she arrived with a large tube of cream and a determined look on her face. "Show me your crotch," she said once they were in the bedroom.

  "I thought you'd never ask," he replied, stripping off all his clothes in the time it took Penelope to remove her jacket. For once she was out of her ubiquitous catsuit, preferring a short black silk dress over matching stockings, a nea
t seam running down the back of each leg. She gasped upon seeing the state of his groin. "Impressive, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically.

  "Have you been scratching?" she asked sternly.

  "Why? Will you promise to give me a spanking if I say yes?"

  "Nikolai, you've almost rubbed yourself raw! The swelling is... considerable."

  "Well, I don't like to brag."

  "That's not what I'm talking about," Penelope snapped. "Lie down on the bed. I'll apply some ointment to the worst areas and you should start to feel some relief almost immediately."

  "Sounds promising," he agreed.

  "That's not what I meant and you know it!"

  "A boy can always hope, can't he?"

  Penelope settled down on the bed beside him, then quickly stood up again. "And keep your wandering fingers to yourself!"

  "Spoilsport," Dante said, sulkily removing his hands from beneath her.

  "That's better," she said, sitting down once more. Penelope turned the tube upside down above his groin and began squeezing the thick white cream all over him. After emptying half the ointment out, she cast aside the tube and began gently massaging the cream into his swollen areas.

  "Oh, yes," Dante sighed. "I'm feeling relieved already." He winked at her playfully. "You never told me whether you got any midge bites while we were on Hoy."

  "A few," Penelope admitted, her hands stroking the cream back and forth on the most swollen area of his groin. "Those bloody things always bite you in the most inconvenient places."

  "I hope you haven't been scratching."

  "Maybe a little."

  Dante smiled. "Let's see if I can guess where..."

  Spatchcock and Flintlock were returning from a hard day's drinking in the taverns of London when they heard a terrible moaning sound from Dante's suite. "Bojemoi, it sounds as if he's in agony!" the shorter man said, leaning closer to the door.

  "Dante told us not to disturb him under any circumstances, Spatch!"

  "But what if he's dying in there?"

  Flintlock shrugged. "I guess we could have a peek, see if he's okay."

  "Me first!" Spatchcock was peering through the keyhole before Flintlock could object.

  "What is it? What's happening?"

  "I think Dante is attempting the entrance exam for the Britannia secret service." Spatchcock muttered under his breath. "But I'm not sure he'll ever get in that way..."

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  David Bishop was born and raised in New Zealand, becoming a daily newspaper journalist at eighteen years old. He emigrated to Britain in 1990 and was editor of the Judge Dredd Megazine and then 2000 AD, before becoming a freelance writer. His previous novels include three starring Judge Dredd (for Virgin Books) and four featuring Doctor Who (for Virgin and the BBC). He also writes non-fiction books and articles, audio dramas, comics and has been a creative consultant on three forthcoming video games. If you see Bishop in public, do not approach him - alert the nearest editor and stand well back.