'And I want you to do something about it. Oh, and from here on in it's entirely my own little scheme. Although my Pandiloop colleagues are here with the same intention in mind, I've decided to adopt this direct action approach myself. They don't know what I'm up to. So don't think they're your salvation from what I'm now about to tell you.'
More looks of confusion. And now, real puzzlement.
'The hoax, you see, was to get you to handle those objects in the box. That's all. I just needed the Council to get its hands dirty for once. So you'd all work for me - when I asked.'
Blank stares joined the puzzled looks.
'The yellow stuff is nardane. You're all now contaminated with it. Which means you've all got no more than thirty hours to live…'
There was a chorus of gasps, gulps and groans from around the table.
Meitchers went on '…unless, of course, you can get some nardane antidote inside your systems. Which, as I'm sure you all remember from your days as real knights, takes fifty hours to mature into efficacy. And there's only one supply on this planet that's been brewing long enough - and that'll be ready before your thirty hours is up. And only I know where it is. I repeat, only me. Remember, nobody else even knows that I'm here.
'So now the job I have for you - and the way you might stay alive. It's simple. I don't mind how you do it, but you're going to uncover whoever it is who's been sending messages from this office to have knights killed - whether it's just one person or a whole gang of them. And you're going to do it within thirty hours. You have to. And you have to succeed, gentlemen. Just trying won't be enough. Do I make myself clear?'
And then Meitchars chuckled. He thought he could now afford to.
'Just nod if you understand,' he said smiling.
And they did, every one of them.
'Good. I'm very pleased. In fact, I'm so pleased, I'll now take questions if there are any - and if you feel you have time to ask them. I mean you may now speak without having your heads blown off.'
There was universal hesitation. Meitchars was still holding that photon pistol, and they clearly wanted to be sure.
'Come on, any questions?' he encouraged. But still nothing. Then Blobe's hand went up - as though he were a child in a classroom.
'Ah, Blobe, you have a question?' sang Meitchars.
'Errh yes,' squeaked Blobe nervously. 'Errh, I just wanted to know… well, I really would like to know whether this nardane stuff is… well, whether it's another hoax, you know, like the time capsule bit - or whether it's serious. I mean, is this stuff on our fingers really nardane…?'
'No Blobe, you needn't worry. You have my assurance as a Knight of the League that what you have on your fingers - and in your system - really is nardane. You can still buy it in this town of yours if you know where to look - and the little examples of objects from the past. Facsimiles of course, but very well made. And the same place sells the antidote precursors, the ones I've got brewing away now. And unless you receive a shot of the finished product within the next thirty hours, your mortal coil will find itself unwound and you will function no more. You will be dead, Blobe. Irremediably extinct. Forever. Understand?'
Blobe nodded. Plainly he did understand.
Then a less nervous contribution was hurled from the table. It wasn't a question but a threat.
'You're a fool, Meitchars!' snarled Smegerill. 'All this blackmail and stuff is just nonsense. What makes you think we'll let you leave this room before you tell us where the antidote is? Or do you think you're a match for us all - with or without that pistol of yours?'
Meitchars turned to Smegerill and fixed him with an icy stare. Then he dropped his pistol to the floor and brought his hands together behind his legs - just a few inches from his ankles.
'I think I'm a match for all of you,' he said quietly.
Smegerill didn't respond. Instead he looked satisfyingly deflated. And Meitchars knew he could now count on the support of the entire Council. He felt better than he'd felt for years.
Almost as one, the Council members rose from their seats, and a queue quickly formed at the door from the room. They were all obviously eager to embark on their allotted task - and with a degree of urgency that was next door to panic.
Only Gleeze remained with Meitchars in the boardroom. Untainted by the nardane and untroubled by reality, he sat and played out a new film on the screen of his mind. It was called “Gleeze, The Great Senior Knight of the League”. Soon it would become his obsession and, within a very short time after that, his whole existence.
38.
It was early evening when Renton arrived with For-bin-Ah at the League's head office. He had prepared himself for anything: arrest, assault - another assassination attempt, whatever his Korpulund brethren had in store for them. He would just take it in his stride. He was not going to be surprised. Repeat: not going to be surprised.
But he failed. He was. He was really taken aback. And so was For-bin-Ah. Renton could see it behind his outward composure. They had been met at the entrance by a burly-looking trooper, who had greeted them by name, and then, with a burly-sized smile, had invited them to follow him to Kanker's office - 'which your friend, Meitchars is using'.
'Using?' queried For-bin-Ah.
'Yes, using,' confirmed the trooper. 'You know, he's taken it over as his own office - while he's here on Korpulund.'
'Taken it over?' repeated For-bin-Ah slowly.
'Yes, that's right. And he's expecting you. We all were, of course.'
And with that, the oversized receptionist smiled another generous smile and beckoned them to follow him to the Leader's lair. They did so. If it was a trap, it was a trap. But Renton didn't think it was. It just didn't feel like a trap. And he knew For-bin-Ah thought the same. It was in his eyes - caution but no apprehension.
Their journey to Kanker's domain took them through a large office building in the middle of the League's base on Korpulund. It was very different from their own office on Pandiloop, not just in its size, but also in its style. It bordered on the sumptuous. And here and there it crossed over that border - by quite a long way. It was awful. Not at all what Renton would have chosen. Nor did he care for the bustle of the place. Because that's what there was - everywhere. As unexpected as their greeting and just possibly, Renton thought, the source of some amusement for their trooper-guide. Maybe this wasn't the normal pace of life at HQ? It did look a bit peculiar. So many people going hither and thither, and some even running. And the expressions on their faces - worried, distracted, almost panicky. It couldn't be like this all the time, surely? Something funny must be going on. Somebody's stirred it all up. 'I wonder,' thought Renton. 'Now, who could that be?'
Then they arrived in Kanker's office, and the wonder stopped - as soon as he'd set eyes on Meitchars. It was his partner from the outback who'd put the place in a spin. There was no doubt about it. He looked so happy and so… well, so wicked. Renton had never seen him like this before - and never thought he would. What could he possibly have done to cause such a change? And all on his own, damn him. Meitchars versus Korpulund, a singlehanded storming of the bastion. And he'd already breached the walls - and put all the buggers to flight. He was amazing, crushingly amazing.
'Good evening, you two,' beamed Meitchars. 'And welcome to Kanker's Korpulund. I'm afraid he can't be here to greet you himself. So I'm standing in. I hope you don't mind.'
'Meitchars, you old bastard,' returned For-bin-Ah. 'What the hell have you been up to - apart from absconding? Oh, and by the way, it's great to see you again - and to see you like this.'
'My sentiments entirely, old chap,' said Meitchars, his face beaming more brightly than ever. 'And you,' he said turning to Renton. 'It's very, very good to see you - after all you've been getting up to. Seems you've got a good friend in that Boz bloke. You should make sure you don't lose him. You and your young Madeleine.'
'We won't,' smiled Renton. 'And I don't think he'd let us anyway. He's a bit like you, you know. A bit of a mothe
r hen. Big wings and a sharp beak.'
Meitchars smiled but said nothing.
'But he hasn't commandeered Kanker's office for his own use,' continued Renton. 'Not that I'm aware of, anyway. And as you have, you'd better tell us how. We might want to do it ourselves one day. And while we're on the subject of interfering with the facilities here, what the heck have you done to cause all that agitation out there? They're all running around as though the place is on fire.'
'That's because I've set it alight,' replied Meitchars. 'And you know how well rotten wood burns. It was on your survival module, wasn't it? You couldn't have forgotten that? Not yet? Surely?'
Meitchars winked. He actually winked. He really must have been wicked. And then he proceeded to tell his colleagues just how bad he had been - and how one goes about igniting the locals - with photon pistols and assorted bric a brac - and a little nardane. He delighted in the telling.
And Renton delighted in the listening. It was a fabulous story and a heartening one. He only wished he'd have been there to see it unfold. But never mind. He'd be there for the finish. And that would be just as good. He was sure it would.
'So you see,' finished Meitchars, 'they're in a bit of a tizz. They're wetting themselves - probably literally. And I have to confess, I'm enjoying it. In fact, I'm revelling in it. It's beautiful, isn't it? And it was all so easy.'
He smiled again - as though he was making up for lost time in that department.
'You're a bloody marvel,' observed For-bin-Ah, 'a Class one, Grade-A marvel. And I'm more than happy that you're on our side, I really am.'
'Always will be,' responded Meitchars quietly. And for the first time since they'd arrived in Kanker's office, he looked subdued and a little embarrassed.
It caused a pause in their exchange - until Renton spoke. He thought it was time to return to the present - and to address the subject of food. He hadn't eaten for hours, and doubted whether Meitchars had either. It was time to put this to rights. And in any event, arrangements had been made.
'Come on, Meitchars,' he announced, 'time for you to meet Boz. We're all going out to eat at some bistro he's found - with Madeleine and with this Kernik bloke, the one who helped Boz save our lives. We might have something of a celebration…'
Meitchars looked thoughtful and then he spoke. 'I can't refuse, can I? It sounds like a splendid idea. I've been sorting through some of these recordings of the Council. But they can wait. They're becoming a bit of a trial anyway. And while we're eating we can all think about how we can get into that safe-room over there…' He pointed to a small metal door in the corner of Kanker's office. 'It's got a nifty bio-lock on it. Kanker's, I'm sure. And I'm just as sure it's worth cracking. There's bound to be something of interest in there, something to keep these fires of ours burning, if you know what I mean. We've just got to get in there before he gets back.'
Only a short while ago, the idea of breaking into the Senior Knight's private, protected inner sanctum would have been absolutely outrageous. Now, all that had changed. It was just the obvious thing to do - and damn the consequences. Who cared any more? After all, everything had changed now, hadn't it? Meitchars had seen to that.
'OK,' agreed Renton. 'We'll go and give it some thought. But remember, you've got our friend Boz to meet as well. And we've all got to make the acquaintance of this chap, Kernik. And there's still the small matter of Grader.'
'Mmm, yes Grader,' whispered Meitchars. 'We mustn't forget him.'
Within half an hour they were sitting down to eat with Boz and Madeleine and a gang of Pandiloop troopers. And Meitchars met Boz and Boz met Meitchars. And they got on like an office on fire. But none of them met Kernik. He failed to show. It was another surprise on this day of surprises - but not one they'd wanted to have.
39.
Kanker's office was full of his images. It was a large office and there was plenty of room for them - on the walls and in standing frames on any flat surface. In some of these holograms he was meeting Important Persons. In others he was the Important Person himself, opening a new office of the League or addressing a gathering of knights. In yet more he was quite on his own - looking either studious or threatening. And there was one on his desk that was a caricature - of his Godship as some sort of omnipotent thing surveying the universe. It was ridiculous. But given its privileged position, the sad old sod obviously cherished it. He must have looked at it all the time as he sat in his seat of power. Or so Renton thought.
Now he was sitting there, behind the Senior Knight's vast desk, surveying his leader's lair and trying to work out what it told him about the man. It didn't take much trying. It was the space occupied by a self-important egotist - and an egotist who wielded all the power he might ever need to indulge his egotism to the full. He loved himself. He thought of himself very highly, very highly indeed. And he expected others to take the same point of view. Something he helped them to do by providing visitors to his office with some of the lowest seats Renton had ever seen. They were barely inches from the floor. And Renton had tried one. They were impossible - and humiliating.
He shook his head. How the hell had the League let this monster into its midst? How could they have allowed it? How could anybody…
'Morning, Renton,' chirped Meitchars as he strode into Kanker's office. 'And how does it feel sitting there? Starting to feel like a real bastard, are you?'
Renton blinked. Meitchars had taken him by surprise. And now he realised that just behind him were For-bin-Ah and Madeleine. They'd both added their greetings before Renton could muster a response to Meitchars' jibe. When he did, it was a little less than convincing.
'Errh… I was errh… just errh… you know, just errh…'
'Yes, that's what it looks like,' interrupted Madeleine smiling. 'But don't get any big ideas. Remember, I know your limitations…'
Her smile turned to a wicked grin and Meitchars and For-bin-Ah both chuckled. Then Renton joined in. He was so happy to see Meitchars happy he couldn't do otherwise. It was delightful.
'Boz should be here soon,' announced For-bin-Ah. 'He's gone to check on Kernik. He shouldn't be more than a few minutes - with or without Kernik. My betting's without him. If the guy didn't turn up last night, I can't see him turning up now.'
'Yes, it's strange, isn't it?' said Renton. 'He went to so much trouble to help us, you'd think he'd want to meet us. I mean, just out of curiosity if nothing else. To make sure he hadn't made a mistake - that we were actually worth saving.'
'Well,' interrupted Madeleine, 'just in case he does turn up, you'd better get out of that chair. We don't want him to think you've got some sort of character defect. He might go and organise another spell of hyperbolicalling for you - to shrink your ego.'
'Yes, and anyway,' added For-bin-Ah, 'you can come over here and give us a hand with this bio-lock. Meitchars thinks he may have a way to get through it. But it needs a bit of brute force and ignorance as well.'
'And we're clean out of ignorance this morning,' smiled Meitchars. 'So if you don't mind…'
'Mmmmm,' murmured Renton, as he rose from Kanker's seat, 'I don't think I'm quite as well endowed with ignorance as our colleagues on the Council, but if you want…'
And immediately there was a strange forced laugh in the room, somebody trying to sound amused when he was clearly not. It could only be a member of the aforementioned ignorant Council. And it was. It was Vorskyn. He stopped laughing and addressed the assembled visitors.
'Good morning, everybody,' he sneered. 'I hope you all had a relaxed night…'
'A relaxed night?' thought Renton. 'But more to the point, a relaxed knight. For somebody with about ten hours to live, he looks mightily relaxed. And he should now be shit-scary scared…'
Then Renton's thoughts drifted away from the immediate and into what the immediate had prompted: the recollection that his friend, Meitchars, had poisoned eleven of the most senior knights of the League, and that soon all these knights would be dead. And however justified that might
be, it wouldn't stop a big shipment of excrement hitting some giant League fan.
And it was all so matter of fact. When Meitchars had shared this part of his plot with them, it had been accepted as just that, just another step in his march towards justice. Not really wrong and not really very shocking. Certainly For-bin-Ah hadn't appeared shocked at all. And Renton knew he'd not been either. His only thought was that, again, Meitchars had demonstrated his professional cold-bloodedness - when required. And would he, Renton, have been able to do the same in the same circumstances? He doubted he would. But that was his problem. What Meitchars had set in train - the immediate death in service of the entire Council - wasn't a problem at all. Unless, of course, one was a current member of the Council. In which case one should be very concerned. And one should definitely not be relaxed, nor should one look relaxed.
But this Vorskyn bloke… well, just look at him. He wasn't only looking relaxed, he was… well, he was oozing relaxed. He was positively oozing it!
'…and that you're all ready,' continued the slimy one, 'for whatever today may bring, for whatever excitements are in store.'
'Good morning, Vorskyn,' responded Meitchars. 'And I'd say from your manner that you've either got your man or you've got a serious mental problem. Which is it?'
'Ah, always to the point, my dear Meitchars. Never one to take the long way round, eh? Well, I think I should respond accordingly. No point in dragging this out anyway. I think we'd all like to get our hands on the antidote as soon as possible, if you don't mind. So why don't we just wheel him in? The man you asked us to find. He's waiting for you in the boardroom.'
Vorskyn beamed a smirk, not an easy manoeuvre for most people, but he appeared accomplished in the task. And then he shouted out a command. 'Wojjer. In here. Now!'
Immediately the door to the boardroom opened and in walked Wojjer followed by the rest of the Council. And with them, held between Smegerill and Blobe, somebody who was clearly not in the Council mould. He was unkempt, his hands were bound, and he was bruised about the face. And he looked as though he was as hard as nails.
Ticklers Page 21