by J Battle
‘If you want specific figures, then there is a six percent chance that he will be available to you within the next one point seven minutes.’
‘So, not much of a chance?’
‘That is an accurate appreciation of your current situation.’
'I could help you, Philly boy.'
Despite the heat. I froze. That was a voice I was never going to forget.
'Millie!' I gasped.
'You recognized me?' There was glee in her voice.
'Once heard, never etc…' I replied as I desperately searched for a way out of my predicament that didn't involve help from Millie, or getting shot again.
If I moved much further to my right, the cliff curved outwards and would expose me to Mandy's bullets. If I moved to my left, I'd just be making it easier for her.
'That looks a little dangerous, Philly.' She didn't sound at all worried. 'If you fall, I don't think your nano-machines will be able to save you.'
'I'm in no danger of falling,' I replied, sounding both pompous and unconvincing even to myself.
'Because of your sticky fingers? They're not really sticky, you know? They just have a high coefficient of friction.'
I looked at my fingers, splayed and clinging to the vertical smooth surface of the cliff face. I was just being held up by friction? Didn't sound very safe to me.
'Look what happens when I dial down the coefficient level on your thumb.' She sounded playful, but it wasn't a game I wanted to play.
My right thumb came away from the wall; then my left. I was hanging just by my eight fingers. Then it was six.
'Stop!' I yell.
'Oh Philly, you're such a spoilsport. I bet you could hang by one little finger. Shall we see?'
'No!' was my succinct reply, as I began to climb up the cliff. I was going to have to take my chances with Mandy's bullets. I didn't want to be roasted, boiled, burnt, incinerated, or whatever the proper description is for death by lava.
I reached the top with four sticky fingers, a headache, a bunch of tense butterflies in my stomach, and alarmingly relaxed bowels.
'Philly…' Her voice in my head seemed to trail off, as if the distance between us was increasing as I ran along the edge of the cliff.
There was a loud bang behind me and something struck me in my left buttock. I stumbled and fell, grasping at the cliff edge to stop myself from falling. This getting shot all the time was beginning to get on my nerves. Couldn't Annie Oakley miss once in a while?
I started to crawl as quickly as I could, fully aware that my chosen mode of movement was both undignified and ineffective, and presented a perfect target to me sharp shooting erstwhile paramour.
'Can I be of any assistance, Phil?'
I could have rolled over and kicked my legs like a happy puppy at the sound of his voice. I didn't, of course; someone was shooting at me.
'Neville! You're back. Thank goodness! Get me out of here!'
'Of course, Phil. You merely have to wait 3.2 seconds and we…'
I didn't hear the rest as my unerring huntress had taken another shot; right buttock this time, for a change. I was fervently hoping that on her next shot she wouldn't split the difference and go for the bulls-eye when, suddenly, we were gone.
I found myself sitting in the middle of a giant impact crater on a watery world; and then you turn up.
Chapter 25 Then the sound of Willow
The white van pulled up at the corner of the empty street. Barnes didn't feel the need to check his mirrors or flash his indicators. With so few cars on the roads these days, who would be watching?
Dart nodded to the three other passengers; one beside him and two in the back.
'Ready, Guys?' he asked, expecting nothing but confirmation that they were all up for it.
'Too right, Guv,' grunted Eric, from the middle passenger seat. He raised his cricket bat to show just how ready he was.
Dart frowned. He would have preferred for his men to be armed a little more effectively, but the cricket bats would have to do. Guns were out of the question, of course, with their stool pigeon fire and report facility, and now, even knives were no longer available as a weapon of choice for your average hard working criminal. Any knife with a blade longer than seven millimetres would set off alarms when removed from its registered and licensed place of use. This new policy instigated by the Law & Order AI was a real nuisance; it's very hard to impose your will and extract your due rewards from people who are foolish enough to carry money when the only threat you carry is to scratch them to death.
So, cricket bats all around was the order of the day. The sound of flesh on willow was not of any great appeal to Dart.
‘Can I have a go?’ asked Barnes, leaning over the steering wheel. ’I’ll make him cry like a baby.’
‘No, you stay at the wheel, in case we have to leave sharpish.’ Dart wanted to keep some sort of control over the situation.
Just then the door of the second house on the left opened and out stepped a certain Mr. Bliss, resplendent in his brand new and brilliant white tracksuit and his ridiculously large, and equally white trainers.
Without needing instruction from Dart, Eric slipped from his seat and moved quickly around the front of the van. His two silent associates had left the back of the van and were already crossing the street.
Bliss noticed them of course, and their bats. He glanced back to see if he was close enough to his front door to dive inside, but that resort was already being cut off by Eric.
'Hey guys, what's up?' Bliss raised one hand as if to stop them. His other hand was rummaging in his tracksuit bottoms.
'Just want a word, Son,' replied Eric, softly. 'Just a quick word and then you can be about your business.'
Bliss pulled the gun from his pants.
'Don't think so, mate. Don't think so at all. Drop your bats and bugger off, before things get ugly.'
Eric eyed the gun for a moment. It was quite an old looking gun; it might not have fire and report settings.
'You got bullets for that, Son? Or are you just waving a lump of metal?'
Bliss smiled.
'That's for me to know, y'know? And for you to find out, if you've got the guts.'
Without anyone noticing, Dart had left the van and was standing a couple of metres from Bliss.
'Come on, mate; we know you've got the blueprint. You've been bragging about a big payday for days. Well, you're in luck. You've got something we want, and you're armed. So, we'll be happy to pay you what you want and be on our way. How does that sound?'
Bliss looked at the newcomer in his sharp suit, with his immaculate grooming.
He played the guy's words back in his head. They sounded just about right, to his way of thinking.
'OK, then. That sounds OK. Just tell these fellas to step away and we can talk like gentlemen, y'know?'
'You do know that cricket is a gentleman's game?' asked Dart, just as Eric's bat connected with the gun hand of Bliss.
Bliss collapsed to the ground, holding his wrist and groaning in a most undignified manner.
Dart caught the gun one handed and cried 'Out!'
Eric flipped Bliss on to his back like some poorly dressed turtle and began to search him. He hesitated for a moment before he unzipped Bliss's tracksuit top and began forage inside.
'Got it,' he said, as he stood up and displayed his prize.
Dart glanced at the blueprint and nodded.
'I suppose I should thank you for retrieving this for us, Mr. Bliss. What do you think? Are thanks due?'
Bliss looked up, suddenly forgetting about his wrist.
'Maybe a finder's fee?' he suggested.
'A finder's fee? What do you reckon Eric? Does he deserve something from us?'
'I was thinking maybe some fingers?' Eric smiled, and tapped his hand with his bat.
'Fingers? How many, would you say?'
Eric appeared to mull this question over for a moment. 'What about four? Two on each hand? And he can have his thumbs
for nothing.'
'You are too generous, Eric, you know that, don't you? But, why not? We've got the blueprint and we can move along with our plans so, yes, I'm feeling a little magnanimous, so, go ahead. Be a big softy, leave him his index and middle fingers, and break the rest.'
He turned away and began to walk back to the van; the sound of Bliss's screams made him shiver. Whatever happened to accepting your just punishment with silent stoicism?
Chapter 26 Now Dumb and Dumber
‘So, how does this work?’ I ask, because it’s something I think I really need to know.
‘It’s quite straightforward,’ replies you-know-who, in his usual pompous way.
‘It may be straightforward to you, but my little monkey brain needs things explaining.’
Now he’s sighing.
‘I’ve set up a basic human level entity; I call him the dumb waiter. Do you like that? I thought it was funny.’
‘OK, so, the dumb waiter; what does he do?’
‘He has been loaded with every squirt co-ordinate that has so far been identified. I can justify this if the question arises by saying that it was a safety measure installed after the problems you had when I was temporarily incapacitated.’
‘How many co-ordinates are we talking here? A couple of hundred?’
‘More like a couple of hundred million; 198735112 to be more precise, as of twelve hours ago.’
‘That’s a lot.’ I’m known as a master of understatement.
‘I’ll also soup up your power source; it’s now really, really strong magic. You will have instantaneous squirting, effectively. The new power source will achieve appropriate power levels in 0.27 second.’
‘That’s quick,’ I say.
‘You understand that once we set this programme in motion, I will be deactivated? You’ll be on your own.’
‘Yeah, I got that. Just me and my dumb waiter.’
‘Yes, otherwise the Law & Order AI would demand your location from the What If Something Really Bad Happens? AI and that location will be provided and both you and your sister will be imprisoned; this time for Crimes Against the State.’
‘Yes, I understand that, and you know what Neville? I’m going to miss you.’ It surprises me that I’m actually telling the truth. Who’d have thought it?
‘Good luck, Philip. It had been good to know you. Perhaps one day, when this is all over, we shall meet again.’
‘You’re going now?’ I hadn’t realized it would be this quick.
‘No point in delaying.’
‘No last joke?’
He’s gone.
I’m in a coffee shop because something happened to pubs while I was away and they no longer serve beer; can you believe that?
Actually, now I think about it, what’s it like where you live? You never say; you never let on. You’re just a voyeur, sucking the juice from my life. Have you nothing better to do with your own life than to watch me mess up mine?
Be off with you! You should be ashamed of yourself.
Er…sorry about that. Didn’t mean to get all drama queen on your ass. It’s just, well I’ve had four or five coffees, and I’m all alone, without Neville and, any minute now I’m going to squirt to an orbital prison platform and attempt to rescue my sister, and I’m not sure I can do it.
There; I’ve said it. It’s out in the open now, and I know you think I should just up and do it, but that’s easy for you to say. All you have to do is read these words and tut-tut and shake your head when you see me doing something wrong, in the full knowledge that you’ll be tucked up in your own comfy bed tonight.
Sorry again; I’m beginning to sound a bit morose.
I wonder if the dumb waiter can talk.
‘Hey, dumb waiter. Can you talk?’ It’s worth a try.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, that’s great. I’m Phil.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what do I call you? I can’t just call you dumb can?’
‘Question not understood. Please rephrase.’
‘Great. I can see we’re going to have a wonderful time together.’
No response.
‘OK, then. Squirt me to the orbital prison platform, Only If You Don’t Mind.’
‘I have 123 co-ordinates that match that description.’
‘Oh, well that’s good, isn’t it? Can you display them in some way?’
‘Yes.’
I wait a moment for the display to appear, but nothing happens.
‘OK, I get it. Please display the co-ordinates.’
My right eye sort of flickers and I can see a 3D schematic of the platform. It’s sort of doughnut shaped and I can see the inmate quarters spread along the outer rim.
‘What time do they, what do you call it, when they are allowed out of their cells to sort of, you know get together, to socialise?’
‘Inmates of Only If You Don’t Mind are allowed to socialise at all times apart from designated sleep times.’
‘OK, then squirt to…’ I stop to take a breath and gather myself, because I know that as soon as I chose the co-ordinates, we’ll be off.
‘Right, I choose the second set from the bottom.’
‘2233-4436-7775?’
‘Yes, if that’s the right number. We have to be quicker at this; wait a minute. Before we go; let’s set up the co-ordinates for our next squirt. Then I can just say Squirt, and we’ll be off. Yes, that sounds like a good idea, and no, I’m not just putting things off.
‘OK, I want to squirt back here. This is our next squirt, and our emergency squirt, until we set up a new one, or I say otherwise. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, it is clear. I have also set up a series of emergency squirt points to evade any possible attempt to apprehend you.’
‘Good, that‘s good thinking dumb, Oh, be sure that none of those points bring us out anywhere we don’t want to be, like the middle of space, or in the centre of a mountain, or the bottom of an ocean, or a boy band’s audience.’
‘All that is taken care of. Shall we go?’
This is it. Maybe my last moment on Earth; maybe my last moment alive.
Jokes anybody?
Thought not.
‘Let’s squirt.’
**********
Sam was in the back room of the Hairy Follicle, nursing a long cool pint of 'Coffee'.
He'd been to Phil's office and watched the destruction of the building for as long as he could.
He couldn't believe that Julie had sold out on Phil whilst he was away. Were they really in that much financial trouble?
Lilly Don't Mind nudged his arm, as if by accident.
'Sorry Lilly, do you want a drink?' he asked, automatically.
'Don't mind if I do, Samuel. Don't mind at all.' She held up her empty glass.
Sam was about to seek out Pete for refills, when silence fell in the crowded room and there was suddenly a little more elbow room, as people began to file out, in ones and twos.
'Sit down, Sam,' hissed Lizzy, grabbing his arm. 'Sit down.'
'What's going on? Who's just come in?'
'Don't look, Sam. Just keep your head down, and they might not notice us. When there's more room, we can slip out.'
'But…'
A heavy hand fell onto Sam's right shoulder.
Lizzy was gone with a surprising turn of speed for a woman of a certain age.
Sam looked up at the tall, angular man towering above him. He felt a sudden lack of tin hat and face paint.
'Wh…?'
'Hello Sam, may I sit?' He sat beside Sam, already assuming that approval would be given.
'Do I know you?' asked Sam, as he slid along the couch, making a little room for himself, just in case he had a sudden need to dash.
'No, not yet.' Everything about the newcomer was long and thin; from his nose to his ears, from his legs to his hair. 'But we can fix that now, can't we, Sam?'
He held a long narrow hand, with long narrow fingers. 'My name is Draggle. B.E. Draggle. My fri
ends call me Bed.'
Sam felt that he'd ignored the hand as long as politeness allowed, so he shook it quickly.
'What can I do for you, Mr. Draggle?'
He was a little perturbed to see that he was now alone with the newcomer.
'I represent certain…interests that would like your assistance in a certain matter.' He leaned forward conspiratorially. Sam leaned back awkwardly.
'I expect to be busy for the next few days,' he offered as a preamble to a refusal.
'There will be a quite generous stipend involved.'
'Is that like…money?'
'Very much so.'
'Well, I might be able…what is this about anyway?'
'Let me explain,' said Draggle. His left arm had somehow become draped along the back of the couch. Sam didn't like that at all.
'You work with Philip Chandler Investigations, I believe?'
'Not exactly work. More a sort of residential consultation role.'
'In any case, you will be privy to certain…snippets shall we say? Certain snippets of information that my employer might be interested in.'
'Anything I may have learned, or not as the case maybe, would be confidential and require a written request in triplicate before any sort of divulgecation could be considered.'
'Divulgecation?'
'The act of divulging.'
'I see. Perhaps some figures, some zeros to be more precise, might lubricate this divulgecation?'
'Can't hurt.'
Draggle gave him a number, followed by a handful of zeros. It was a very nice number, thought Sam, especially with all those zeros.
'What do you want you know?' asked Sam, quite without embarrassment.
'It's all about a blueprint,' replied Draggle, allowing his left hand to drop lightly across Sam's shoulders.
Chapter 27 Now for a quick squirt
Right, this is it. I’m about to put myself at the mercy of Dumb Waiter and let him squirt me into space. What if he gets it wrong by a hundred metres or so and we miss the prison all together and I end up dying a horrible death? In space no-one can hear you scream, as they say.
It doesn’t help that he’s called dumb. It doesn’t inspire me with confidence. Maybe I should rename him Smart Waiter?