Preston starts to protest, but it’s too late. I’m up and out of the seat.
‘I can help you,’ pleads Preston, all pretence of the tough guy gone. ‘I just need the watch.’
‘Everyone needs the watch.’ I walk over to Yin and Yang.
‘We have devolved as we have evolved,’ says Yin.
‘Yeah, yeah.’ I wave away his platitudes. ‘You can tell Kieran that I only deal face to face. Tell him to ditch the philosophical, social and metaphysical crap and stop sending me his patsies to bargain with. I only work one way, and that’s my way.’
‘Kieran follows his own path,’ they say in unison. ‘As we follow ours.’
They’re automatons. I wander over to the fridge and open the door, and see Sue hunched up inside of it, blinking against the light.
‘Where have you been?’ she asks, and then: ‘Never mind. Look, we’ve got a problem. The sheep are after us.’
‘Don’t tell me, they fly?’ I say, and she nods, grabs me, and pulls me into the fridge.
SIXTY FOUR
We fall for a few seconds and hit a wet, cold street. Huge tower blocks rear up on either side of us.
Sue doesn’t seem concerned. She’s up and out with the Uzi in a second.
‘Let me guess,’ she says. ‘Preston was in there with you, and he was starting to spout a barrelful of pseudo-personal bullshit, correct?’
‘You’ve hit the nail on the head, sister.’ I get up and pull out the cannon.
‘He’s entering stage two psychosis,’ she explains. ‘It’s what happens when you hang out with Kieran too much. You start to literally crawl up your own ass. Here they come!’
And with the sound of a heavy prop engine and demonic bleating the sky fills with row after row of fluffy white sheep. But these sheep have giant wings sprouting from their sides.
They peel off and start heading for us, bullets blazing from the guns in their wings.
I fire off a shot, taking one right in the goggles, then we’re running, tearing down the street as bullets churn into the ground around us.
‘Genetic mutations!’ screams Sue. She spins and sweeps with the Uzi, taking off the wing of one of the flying sheep. The engine coughs and belches black smoke and then explodes, sending the bleating animal down to the earth.
‘Kieran’s?’ I yell, taking out another ovine attacker.
‘Not this one,’ yells Sue, and drags me into a doorway as bullets chew up the pavement behind us. ‘Professor Spanner. He used to work for Kieran. Unlike Teffle he’s not one of the good guys.’
‘So why is he after us?’ I yell, popping out and emptying the cannon at one of the sheep. It dips, spins, barrels out of a slide and screams down towards us, wing-guns blazing.
‘For Kieran’s honour,’ says Sue as the sheep approaches, its face set in a look of grim determination. She steps out and blasts the thing full in the face and it veers away, flips over and comes crashing to the ground with a strangled ‘baah’ of existential misery.
‘And for the fun of it,’ she says with a smile, and then she’s out and running. I pitch in after her, reloading the cannon as I go. Behind us the phalanx of sheep slide in for a second run.
‘Hold on,’ says Sue, and pulls a small bag of grenades out from under her jumper. ‘Watch this.’
Sue pulls the pin on a grenade and waits. The sheep stream in closer, bullets ricocheting off the ground and walls around us. One slices straight through the end of the cigar I’ve got in my mouth and lights the tip.
Sue lobs the grenade high into the air.
‘Good time to get down,’ she says.
The grenade flies dead centre into the mass of sheep, and it’s carnage. When the explosion dies down there’s nothing but wool and goggles falling from the sky.
‘Eat my grenade,’ says Sue, after the fact. Then the ground shakes.
‘I’ve got a reasonably wary feeling about this,’ she says, and turns. ‘Oh dear.’
SIXTY FIVE
‘I am Molesto, the King of the Sheep!’ booms the seventy foot creature. It stands on its hind legs, almost wedged between the buildings, staring down at us with pure hatred. ‘Who dares disturb my slumber?’
‘Joe Fury,’ I snap, levelling the popgun. ‘Take a hike back to the mint sauce factory.’
That doesn’t go down well with Molesto. He roars and rears back, eyes flashing a deep red. I grab Sue and wrench her out of the way as two laser beams shoot from his pupils and blow a chunk out of the pavement.
‘You got another fridge out of here?’ I ask her, and she pulls out a map and starts to run a finger down it.
I step out in front of the giant sheep.
‘Let’s negotiate,’ I yell, and the creature stops for a second.
‘What do you have to offer?’
‘You’ve got to ask yourself, “what does a sheep like me want from a life like this?”’ I’m stalling for time and glance back at Sue. She’s still looking. ‘And “what does a sheep with my personality want to gain in life?”’
‘A fast car and a nice pair of shoes!’ roars the sheep.
‘I can understand that,’ I say. ‘But that kind of luxury doesn’t get handed to you on a plate. You have to work for it.’
‘Got it!’ Sue stabs the map.
‘And what do you suggest?’ roars Molesto.
‘Here’s my first piece of advice.’ I whip out the popgun and start blazing away, putting a few stretch marks in the giant sheep, but doing little else.
And we’re off and running as the sheep roars in fury behind us and starts thundering down the street. Sue grabs me and yanks me into a doorway, and we burst through into a living room.
Molesto starts hammering away at the building, smashing his hooves into the brickwork, trying to tear it down around our ears.
Sue drags me into the kitchen where the fridge is. She pulls open the door and we’re staring into the deep, empty blackness inside.
‘Here goes nothing,’ she says, and she’s in. I pause for a second to relight the Cuban in my mouth, then I follow, and I’m tumbling through an endless blackness.
SIXTY SIX
I can feel something happening to my mind. It’s like black fingers are seeping into my consciousness and telling me to give up the cheroots and whisky and start contemplating the meaning of existence.
We’re floating in black space and I can see Sue’s straining against her own problems.
‘I… I should wear frilly dresses and think about kittens,’ she gasps. ‘No, dammit. Must fight!’
And I know what she means. The notion of buying a small, economical foreign car enters my mind and I suddenly like the idea of slippers.
‘What’s happening to us?’
‘Fight it!’ screams Sue, and then we’re out of the blackness and spilling onto a cold, hard metal floor.
‘Congratulations, mein liege,’ comes a voice, and I look up to see a man in a white surgeon’s gown—holding a scalpel—standing over me.
‘Professor Spanner, I presume?’ I ask, and he just smiles.
SIXTY SEVEN
‘So, vot do you think of my vortex of ultimate displeasure?’ asks the Professor, walking back and forth in front of us.
We’re in the middle of a lab, the place stuffed full of curios and scientific instruments.
‘I think it could do with some improvement, Einstein,’ I snap. ‘Nothing bags me out of a cigar and a shot, you understand me?’
‘Hoh, yes, I understand you,’ cackles the Prof. ‘But unless I am very much mistaken, you do not understand what kind of trouble you are in.’
‘My right fist says you’re lying,’ I say, and take a step towards him. He recoils, then cackles to himself.
‘You are one of those hard men who likes to beat up smart guys, yes?’ he asks.
‘Only when they don’t spill the goods,’ I snarl. ‘Now cut the coming attractions and start counting the beans, before your jawbone does the man dance.’
The Prof stops
and looks confused, then cackles and rushes back to his desk and starts scribbling notes on a pad.
‘Fascinating language skills,’ he mutters to himself. ‘Ze subject talks almost total gibberish and yet I understand him completely.’ He turns back to me. ‘Would you, er, like ein apple strudel?’
‘Save the hospitality, wise guy.’ I’m in no mood for side projects. ‘Just cut to the chase and we’ll be out of your hair. Kieran—just the facts.’
‘You vould like me to tell you about Kieran, yes?’
‘As long as the day is dusty, then why not?’ He stares at me with fascinated bemusement and I take the advantage and pour myself a quick drink of rye. ‘How long have you known the target?’
‘Oh, such a long time, mein liege,’ he nods. ‘He gave me ze brains to have ze brains, if you know vot I mean. Is funny, yes?’
‘Like a cancer,’ I mutter. ‘I got some dealing to do and you might be able to help out. We need swift passage over to his compound and you’re the kind of man who can handle his business. You tell us how to get there and we’ll see your palms are greased with the finest green.’
‘Fascinating, fascinating,’ says the Prof, and walks close. ‘And you are speaking English, yes?’
‘The last time I checked.’
‘I vould like to study you further, please,’ says the Prof enthusiastically.
‘No dice, Prof,’ I tell him. ‘No room for passengers where we’re going.’ But I look at Sue and she’s giving me signals like we should take him along. I turn back to him. ‘But on the other hand, let’s see what you can offer.’
‘Oh yes, I can offer goot stuff,’ says the Prof, excited. ‘I will need my larger brain for zis!’
And he runs off into the back of the lab and unscrews the top of his head, from the eyebrows up. He plucks out his brain, gets one the size of a small German Shepherd, and then slams it in, screwing down a bigger forehead. ‘Now ve are ready.’
SIXTY EIGHT
The Prof is in the back of the shark dressed in a trench coat, with a trilby perched on the top of his ridiculously large head. He smokes a pipe and mutters occasionally.
‘Ze Kieran man iz a strange creature of many substanzes,’ says the Prof, jabbing the pipe at me as we tear down the road. ‘He has no perceptible blind spotz undt no obvious weaknesses. He is impenetrable.’
‘You’re talking crazy, Prof,’ I tell him. ‘Every man has a weakness.’
‘Zis man iz a shard of steel in a large factory of impenetrable objects,’ the Prof tells me. ‘I haf known him for many years now undt haf seen nothing get ze better of him.’
‘Yeah, but he hasn’t met Joe Fury yet,’ I say, and turn to face the way ahead just in time to see a puppy in the middle of the road. I slam on the brakes and the shark squeals to a halt, the front bumper inches from the puppy’s head.
It yips.
‘Could be a set-up,’ I warn the others. ‘Sit tight and wait for my all-clear.’
‘I like zis man,’ the Prof says to Sue. ‘He is talking such utter nonsense.’
I slide out of the car with the cannon drawn. You can’t expect anything too easy on a ride like this, and the closer we get to Kieran the more elaborate his traps become.
I give the dog the once over. It’s small, brown and furry.
The dog yips at me and turns it’s baby browns up. I level the popgun at it.
The Prof steps out of the car and laughs.
‘I zink you haf become so agitated by zis job you haf taken zat you are seeing all kinds of bad zings where zere is nothing.’ He bends down and picks up the puppy. ‘See, it iz chust a puppy with cute eyes und a fluffy tail. Say “hello”, Rover.’
‘Hello,’ says Rover.
SIXTY NINE
The Prof cuddles the animal. ‘A talking dog. May my hairy gooseberries always deliver ze goods!’
‘This isn’t the dog talking, you moron,’ says the voice. It’s coming from a small speaker on the dog’s neck. ‘This is Kieran. God, no wonder I sacked you.’
‘You didn’t sack me!’ the Prof rages at the sky. ‘I quit. You are nuzzink but a cheapskate with a tiny vinky!’
‘Flying sheep—what an idiot,’ comes the voice of Kieran. ‘Anyway, that’s not important. I have the knowledge to destroy myself. This knowledge is contained in a small room on the edge of this road a hundred miles distant. If you want to end this game then find the knowledge and discover how to eliminate me. It’s your choice.’
‘Zuch a blow-hard,’ mutters the Prof. ‘I’m keeping ze dog as vell.’
It doesn’t take us long to reach the room. It’s got arrows painted all over the side of the building and hoardings screaming about ‘The Knowledge.’
I skid the car to a halt and walk over to the door. I push it but it doesn’t give. This is no time for subtlety so I step back and kick the door inwards.
And it’s totally empty. Just a blank room.
The Prof turns up behind me with the dog, which starts to struggle in his arms.
‘This some kind of metaphysical joke?’ I ask the Prof. ‘Because it if is, I’m going to kick his ass even harder than I intended to.’
‘No. Votch.’ He lets the dog go and it leaps into the room and vanishes.
Sue walks over and leans up against the threshold.
‘It’s cryptic, but then so is everything else on this road,’ she says. ‘You want to take a leap?’
‘Anything you can add to this, Prof?’ I ask.
‘Yes,’ he nods. ‘I zink ve are ein shaften trousered.’
SEVENTY
‘In all mein travels I have never encountered such a zing as zis.’ The Prof is peering into the empty room. ‘I have never developed anyzing like it, either. Flying sheep are easy—zis is something much more complicated.’
The Prof pokes an arm into the room. It doesn’t disappear.
‘I haf heard about zis place, and it has nuzzink to do vith Kieran. I zink he is tellink you vot is known as “za big bag of old badger’s bollocks”.’
The Prof turns to us.
‘It is “Za Zone.” You enter zis and all your dreams und fantasies vill be rewarded. Go on, Mr Fury, vot is your dream?’
‘I don’t have dreams. I just want to take down Kieran and get back to my whisky.’
‘Zen it shall happen.’
I take a few steps towards the room, then hesitate.
‘You first, Prof.’
‘Votever you say.’ And he steps into the zone and disappears. I snatch a glance at Sue, who shrugs.
‘It’s not my bag, honey,’ she mutters, and I unholster the popgun, steady myself, and leap into the abyss.
SEVENTY ONE
The cage is locked from the outside and the Prof is laughing at me.
‘You are zuch ein fool,’ he witters, and wanders off into the darkness. I glance around but there’s nothing to see except three walls of pipes and steel and an endless darkness ahead of the cage.
A second later Sue joins me.
‘We got the quick trip up the creek, sister,’ I mutter.
‘Never trust a mad Professor.’
‘We’ll deal with him later,’ I say, eyeing the shadows around us. ‘First of all we need a one way ticket out of here.’
Sue tests the bars of the cage with a few yanks. ‘Solid.’
‘But that isn’t.’ I point upwards. The cage is suspended on a pulley system, with the bar it’s hanging on leading off into the darkness.
‘You sure this is a good idea?’ asks Sue.
‘We don’t have a choice.’ I slam myself against the cage and it shifts forwards an inch.
‘This is too easy,’ says Sue. ‘Why set us up in this trap if it’s so easy to move?’
‘I’ve stopped worrying about questions like that, toots,’ I tell her. ‘Everything about this case seems like some kind of bad dream. But I’ve got a job to do.’ I slam against the cage and it shifts forwards again. ‘Besides, I’ve got to get back to the diner. I’ve got a clue a
bout Kieran to pick up there.’ I hand her the half note that the butler gave me and slam myself into the cage again.
This time it shifts further. The bar looks like it slopes downwards. This could be a bumpy ride.
‘“Look”.’ Sue turns to me. ‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘Hang on, sister.’ I slam the cage again. It tilts forwards and then starts to shift, gathering pace. ‘This could be tight.’
Around us shadows flash past, looking like shapes in the gloom. Features. Faces. Arms. Claws. Eyes. All around us. As the cage picks up speed the pulley on the bar starts to shriek, metal grinding against steel.
‘I think I see the end coming.’ Sue points and there’s definitely a wall in front of us, and it’s approaching fast.
‘Not even time for a Havana,’ I mutter, and move to the back of the cage. Sue gets close and the wall gets closer.
SEVENTY TWO
We hit the wall like a rocket and smash through into the light. A short fall and we crash into the ground. The cage buckles and the door pops open.
I’m out like a flash and the gun is drawn. The place is white and quiet. Sue is out beside me with the Uzi in her hand.
‘Analysis?’ I ask her.
‘Some kind of empty room,’ she says. ‘I suggest further investigation.’
‘Sounds like a deal to me.’
We don’t get time. A door in the far wall opens and a man in a kaftan and coloured glasses enters, a huge joint in his hand.
‘Wow, daddio, and all that groovy kind of thing,’ he croaks. ‘Totally fantastic to see you, man. Like, drop in for a visit, why don’t you?’
‘You wanna try that in English?’ I snap. ‘I don’t talk freak.’
‘Heavy gig, man,’ says the hippy. ‘Like, chill. We always like a new face around this pad, man.’
‘Where are we?’ asks Sue. ‘Er man.’
Joe Fury and the Hard Death Page 9