by Clive Mullis
Lenny took them through the workshop and out through a little door that led to a lean-to which housed the furnace, and then out into the yard where Frankie could be seen standing by a small pile of hay, into which the nag had firmly planted its nose, chewing away contentedly.
‘There you are, Jack. You took yer time. I’ve been here quite a while; that old gluepot could get up a good turn o’speed when it got the chance,’ he said, indicating the old horse. ‘I wonder who ‘ad it before?’
‘Good question,’ responded Cornwallis. ‘That’s something we will have to look into. Jethro and I found out something else as well. Our potential murderer is very neat in his habits.’
Lenny polished his spectacles once again and then walked over to the big barrel, which he’d placed on an old upturned water tank. He’d taken all the bits and pieces of metal out and had piled them up in a heap; the small barrel containing the black powder stood next to it.
‘I’m pretty sure that this is gonepowder,’ said Lenny. ‘I haven’t checked for certain yet, but it smells like it, tastes like it and looks like it. So perhaps we should see if it goes bang like it. We’ll do that now.’
He pulled a spoon out from his pocket and dipped it into the powder, taking out a small sample. He then took it over to the far side of the yard, where he tipped it out onto the ground and made a tiny conical pile. He then walked back and began to rummage around in the junk in the yard. Cornwallis, Frankie, Rose and MacGillicudy looked on with interest.
Lenny began to get a little frustrated, as he couldn’t find what he looked for. Bits flew out behind him rather like a dog digging into a rabbit burrow as he rummaged around. Eventually he gave a little cry of triumph. ‘Got you, you little bugger.’
He turned around and held aloft a long pole. He quickly tied a bit of rag to one end and then walked over to the furnace. A couple of minutes later he emerged with the end of the pole flickering with a tiny little flame.
Indicating to the three observers that they should really stand back a bit and that perhaps it would be a good idea to take the nag with them, he walked over to the little pile of powder.
Standing as far back as he could, he leant forward with the pole extended. He sort of crouched and stood on the half-turn as the pole lowered. As soon as the pole and the little flame came into contact with the powder, there came an almighty WHOOOSH! The pile belied its small size and gave up a flame that soared high into the air.
‘Definitely gonepowder,’ said Lenny with conviction. He turned around, the end of his beard singed and smoking. ‘Next thing we have to do is work out what damage your barrel could have done to the watch-house.’
Cornwallis nodded. ‘But we want to keep this intact. It’s evidence.’
Lenny smiled. ‘In that case, I will build a replica. Must have enough bits and pieces around here to do that, and I can get the gonepowder just next door. Then we can see what damage it would have done.’
‘And we do that here?’
‘Oh no, no, no, it’s far too dangerous to do it here. But I know just the place.’
CHAPTER 7
They examined all the scraps of metal before Lenny got to work. He found a couple of barrels which would be up to the job, but were, unfortunately, not the same size. They were a bit smaller. He seemed to indicate that this wouldn’t be a problem as he could just scale up the damage caused. The barrels were about half of the size and fitted snugly together.
‘This will do nicely,’ he said by way of confirmation. He tipped the barrel up and examined it from all angles before rushing out the back and along the road to another workshop.
Cornwallis and MacGillicudy hurried after Lenny. They wanted to speak to the alchemist who produced the gonepowder, see if he had recently lost a large amount, or even a small amount, come to that.
Lenny banged on the door. ‘Oi, Fred. You in there?’
A few moments later the door swung open a crack and a muffled voice came through the gap. ‘That you, Lenny?’
‘Aye, Fred, it’s me. I have a couple of friends with me too.’
The door swung open a little more and then a head peered out. Manky looking rags covered the face and head, with just two beady eyes peeping out. The head nodded to itself.
‘Come on in, Lenny. Who’re the posh blokes?’
‘This is Mr Cornwallis, Fred, a friend of Gerald, and this is Commander MacGillicudy. They want to ask you some questions, and I want a favour.’
‘Right you are, then.’
The door opened fully and Fred beckoned them in. If the smell outside wrinkled the nostrils, inside, it took the skin off. Cornwallis couldn’t help but cough and splutter as the rancid odour hit the back of his nose and throat. MacGillicudy screwed up his eyes which seemed to be watering under the attack. Lenny didn’t even seem to notice, while Fred looked at Cornwallis and MacGillicudy with distain.
‘Got a bit of a cough there, Mr Cornwallis? Commander?’ enquired Fred.
Cornwallis tried to recover his breath. ‘So it would appear,’ he managed to say in the end. ‘What is that smell?’
‘Smell? What smell?’
‘The one that I could cut with a knife.’
‘You got me there, Mr Cornwallis. Must be sommat wrong with yer nose.’
‘If there’s no smell,’ countered Cornwallis, ‘then why are you wearing all that cloth around your face?’
‘I reckon you would too, if you worked with the stuff that I work with.’
‘Perhaps,’ said MacGillicudy, ‘you could occasionally open the door for some ventilation.’ His eyes streamed and his nose felt like it wanted to explode.
Fred began to unwind the rags from his head to reveal a face pockmarked with scars and burns. He had no eyebrows and a totally bald head; there might have been hair there once, but it had long gone and no chance of ever making a return.
‘I do open it. Every time I go out, I opens it. Can’t let too much air in coz it’ll spoil my ingredients.’
The workshop itself was rough and ready in the extreme. There were boxes of sticks and hollowed out tubes, ready to be filled — the whizz-bangs without the whizz and the bang. There were bottles and bags full of foul smelling ingredients and there seemed to be loads of little balls of black stuff drying on racks.
‘What can I do for you then, Lenny?’ asked Fred, dumping the rags in the corner.
‘Need a bit of gonepowder for a little experiment, enough to fill this little barrel.’
‘As much as that, eh? Few days work involved there. Who’s gonna pay?’
‘I will,’ replied Cornwallis. ‘Just tell me how much.’
‘Twenty dollars,’ said Fred quickly. ‘Bargain at half the price.’
‘Done,’ replied Cornwallis, equally quickly.
Fred frowned. Perhaps he should have asked for a bit more, but it was too late now as Cornwallis whipped his wallet out and laid the notes in the open palm of his hand.
‘What’s the experiment?’
‘Want to fill this barrel up,’ said Lenny. ‘Then pack some metal around it inside another barrel and see what happens when we light it.’
Fred gave a low whistle. ‘You don’t want to do that; it might make one helluva bang. Big one, massive bang.’ He thought a moment and then chuckled. ‘Good name for something like that. Big One, Massive Bang. Could call it a BOMB. The alchemist shrugged and then looked pleased with himself. He turned around and then began to pick up some of the little balls in the racks, picking enough to fill the barrel, and then handed them over.
‘You want me to finish off, Lenny?’
Lenny shook his head. ‘No, I can do that. Just a bit of pounding to make a nice little powder.’
‘Lots of powder for yer bomb, eh? Must start using that word; might start using it to make some bigger whizz-bangs. Get yer bombs here, sort of thing. Let me know what happens when you fire it up.’
‘Thanks, Fred, we will,’ said MacGillicudy, watching Lenny pouring the balls into the barrel. ‘Tell m
e though; have you lost any of your materials recently?’
‘Always loosing whizz-bangs,’ replied Fred. ‘Bloody kids sneak around the back and whip them away. Must admit, a few more than normal ‘ave gone over the last week or so.’
‘Really? Have you seen them do it?’
Fred shook his head. ‘No, I only ever see their backs as they run away. Kids, mainly from the Brews, I reckon. Bloody nuisance they are too. ’
‘Would you say a lot of powder is involved, then?’ asked Cornwallis.
‘Reckon so. Has cost me a lot of money, I can tell you. I keep having to make more of the bloody stuff. Anyone would think it only takes a minute to make, but it can take months to dry out the piss and shit.’
‘Piss and shit?’
‘Oh gods, yes. You’d be surprised at what goes into the stuff. Which shit you use depends on—’
‘Thank you, Fred,’ interrupted Cornwallis, before he heard any more. He really didn’t want to know what went into the stuff.
‘I think that’s all for the moment, Fred,’ said MacGillicudy, keen to get out of the workshop. 'Might need to have another word at some point, about the powder that went missing.’
‘Right you are, Commander. But don’t forget to let me know how it goes.’
Gerald waited for them when they returned; his two henchmen standing outside as Gerald never went anywhere without a couple of bruisers in tow. As normal, he paid a lot of attention to Rose.
‘Now, my darling,’ said Gerald, trying to reach up to put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Why ain’t yer been ‘round to see me, eh?’
Gerald’s head only reached up to her shoulders and accordingly he had to stretch. As the King of the Brews, he always dressed appropriately when venturing outside of the slum: black trousers and jacket with a white shirt matched with a little red neckerchief. A little hat perched at a jaunty angle on his head, the jacket and hat covered in shiny little buttons.
‘I came to see you last week,’ countered Rose. ‘That little trouble we had with the organ grinder and the monkey. You remember? We caught the monkey pick-pocketing down the west end.’
‘Was that really last week? My, doesn’t time fly.’ He smiled and gave up resting his arm on her shoulder and dropped it down to hold her around the waist.
Cornwallis pursed his lips as he walked back in. ‘Rose, will you put him down. You don’t know where he’s been.’
‘I tell you what, my darling, when you’ve had enough of ‘im, just you come and see yer old mate Gerald,’ he replied, pulling a face. ‘Wiv you by my side we could rule the world.’
Rose smiled and gave him a hug. ‘You know, I might just do that. What do you think, Jack?’ She turned her head to look at Cornwallis and poked out her tongue.
‘I think he would find out he’d bitten off a bit more than he can chew,’ he replied seriously. ‘She’s expensive, Gerald,’ he added to the King of the Brews. ‘Bloody expensive.’
‘Oh well, in that case, yer can keep ‘er.’
Rose looked from one to the other and then sighed. ‘There are times when I wonder what I’m doing here.’
Gerald chuckled. ‘Yer here ‘cause yer love me. Ain’t that right?’
‘We are here, Gerald, because we want to find out what this thing can do,’ answered Cornwallis, holding up the barrel. ‘Lenny’s friend next door has let us have some powder. Now all we need to do is make a replica. Did Frankie show you what we found in the cart?’
Gerald finally let go of Rose and became serious. ‘I did. Can only imagine what sommat like that could do.’
Cornwallis nodded. ‘That’s what we’re here to find out.’
Frankie and Lenny rummaged in the yard, trying to find enough small bits of metal to fill the barrel tightly, and with the amount of junk there, it didn’t take them very long. Soon they were back in the workshop with the device fully assembled, including the little bit of string.
‘We’re not going to set fire to it here,’ announced Lenny. ‘Too dangerous. There’s a little place down the road a bit, so we’ll take it there.’
Lenny grabbed hold of the barrel and they all piled onto the back of the cart. Frankie drove as he had already got used to the thing when bringing it across town. He found that the old nag had a little bit more about it than first appearances suggested. Its main pace was slow, but he did try to give it a bit of oomph on the flat, to open it up a bit, to see what it could really do, being pleasantly surprised at what he found. At the moment, he only had to hold onto the reins as it plodded up and down the hills, no slowing on either the up or the down, just one pace regardless.
Lenny gave directions from the back, squashed up against Rose and Gerald. MacGillicudy and Cornwallis sat opposite, their feet intermingling as they stretched out on the boards. They were holding onto the sides to stop themselves sliding down the cart to where Gerald’s two henchmen sat by the tailgate. The cart appeared to be pointing to the sky as the weight at the back tipped the front end up.
The cart lurched from side to side as the wheels found the potholes with remarkable regularity. Lenny just held on to the barrel even harder, bringing it in tight against his chest.
‘Can’t you find a decent bit o’road?’ yelled Gerald, clinging on for dear life. ‘You’ll bounce us all out in a minute.’
‘Doing my best,’ returned Frankie, aggrieved. ‘You try driving the thing on these roads. Bloody road maintenance probably ain’t never set foot up here.’
Frankie then found a particularly deep pothole and took a bit of pleasure in putting the wheel right into it. Those in the back couldn’t see the grin that spread over his face as the curses flew in his direction.
They crested a rise and Lenny instructed him to do a right down a particularly rough looking dirt track. Frankie obliged, and the cart bounced and lurched precariously as they snaked down the long and winding track. When they got to the bottom all the passengers let out a sigh of relief.
They were in a disused clay pit, where in the olden days the workers dug up the clay to make cheap bricks for use in the building trade. As a good portion of the Brews could testify, it wasn’t top quality stuff, so eventually the pit fell into disuse after a few houses fell down.
‘This looks like it has seen better days,’ observed Cornwallis, as Frankie pulled to a stop.
A few scrub bushes and some trees were trying to find a home amongst all the rubbish left over from when the pit-diggers left. There were rusted carts, tools and various bits of equipment scattered over the whole site, with a couple of old and crumbling sheds, presumably built from the bricks that were once made there, judging by the state of them.
Lenny leapt off and began to look around for a good place to light the barrel, while the rest stood around waiting for the excitement to begin. He moved over to a likely looking spot and placed the barrel down, right on top of a little mound, so that they could get a good look when they lit the little bit of string.
‘Won’t there be a bit of a bang?’ queried Rose. ‘I mean, if it was meant to do some damage to the watch-house, then what’s it going to do to us if we’re all standing around it?’
‘That’s a good point,’ agreed MacGillicudy. ‘Perhaps we’d better take a bit of cover.’
‘Well, if there’s going to be a big bang, then I don’t want this old horse frightened. Maybe I’d better move it,’ said Frankie, who had quickly got attached to the scrawny looking beast.
Lenny came walking back to them, and they all started to quiz him about the likely outcome of setting it off.
‘Well,’ began Lenny. ‘The thing is, I don’t rightly know. Fred said that it would make an enormous bang, but I can’t say that I know. It could do one of two things really. One, it could just give a little fizzle and then burn itself out, or two, it could do as he said and go bang, sending all those bits of metal flying everywhere.’
‘So, in that case, it wouldn’t really be a good idea to stand around watching it?’ replied Cornwallis. ‘My initial t
houghts were that it could do a serious amount of damage, remembering what we used to get up to as kids. I think we should err on the side of safety and keep clear.’
Frankie nodded and so too did Gerald, who had had a similar upbringing. Lenny looked from one to the other as they discussed the ramifications and eventually agreed that perhaps they should all keep clear, just in case.
Gerald volunteered to light the thing because of his special ability. Having fallen into the Universal Collider a few years ago, he found that he could now decide not to exist — a definite advantage for someone who lived on the wrong side of the law. He would hang around and describe what he saw, as nothing had yet been found that could pose a danger to him — and a good few people had tried to find something.
Frankie returned from tethering the horse and cart to a tree someway back up the track and they all gathered behind the sturdiest looking shed. Gerald’s two minders took some persuading, but eventually they agreed to leave him be, just this once.
Rose clung on to Cornwallis’ arm as they waited patiently for the thing to go off. Lenny felt particularly aggrieved that he couldn’t go and stand with Gerald, after all, he was the alchemist, not Gerald, and he should really be there to see what would happen and record it properly. MacGillicudy had put his foot down on that score, so with reluctance, Lenny stood behind the shed and peeped out from around the corner, just keeping Gerald in vision.
‘You lot all ready?’ shouted Gerald, as he pulled out a match.
‘Carry on,’ yelled Cornwallis in reply. ‘Just tell us when it’s lit.’
Gerald twisted his leg and struck the match against the sole of his boot, sparking it into life. As the match fizzed into flame, he bent down and set the match to the little bit of string. The flame caught straight away and the string began to sizzle as it quickly burnt down towards the barrel.