Hallucinating (26 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

...laser rifle etiquette...

Then, some days after the first drop of petals, there is a second, but this time it is much lighter, a fluttering fall of red petals that lands between the Chalice Well and the Tor. Suspicions are raised; this time the glider was lower, as if a more accurate drop was required. There is something freaky going on. Uncertainty descends upon Glasto, as if people are waiting for something to happen. This glider—who owns it? It must signify something.

Kappa is as freaked out as anybody. An eerie atmosphere descends upon the High Street community, something that she cannot recall happening before. Other communities are spooked also. People are watching the skies, but not for UFOs.

It is early morning and Kappa is walking alone down the High Street, making for the Courtyard. The sun is shining in a clear sky and it is warm. At the bottom of the street she can see the town centre obelisk and the house where she and Nulight lay up, above the 'Crystal Eyes' shop, a couple of years ago. Today the building is empty and ivy-covered, but a sensitive soul nearby has their window open to let Force Majeure out.

Patchouli Zane passes her on the opposite side of the street, heading up the hill, and they wave cheerily to one another. He has a dog on a string.

Kappa reaches the entrance to the Courtyard, where she pauses, watching the dog pull Patchouli Zane up the street. It is a bloodhound.

Famed for their olfactory capabilities.

That's odd.

Footsteps warn her of people approaching, and she turns to see Matey all togged up in a maroon velvet jacket and corduroy flares, also Slim Ciggie in poncho and cowboy boots.

"Hey," says Slim, "have you seen Greenstyle Patel?"

"No," Kappa replies.

"He's vanished. We were meant to be meeting him."

Kappa feels her skin go cold. Concatenation of many facts in her mind: glider, petals, defection, two strangers, one missing, one with bloodhound.

Chalice Well!

"Oh, Buddah!" she cries.

Matey jumps. "Wha'?" he asks.

Kappa turns to look up the street, but Patchouli Zane is out of view. "Quick!" she gasps. "Follow him!"

"Who?"

Kappa turns back and spies Robbie Blacksword by the obelisk. She makes a megaphone of her hands and yells, "Rooooooobbieeeeeeeee!"

He sees her. He runs the few yards up to the Courtyard.

"Wha's matter, Kappa?" Matey asks.

Kappa speaks to them all. "That man, Patchouli Zane. He had a bloodhound!"

"Yeah?"

Kappa runs. They follow. Her air of urgency has inspired them. The quartet run up the hill and turn right at the top, where the road is level and they can put on a bit of speed; but no sign of the stranger and his bloodhound. At the mini roundabout they pause. The Chalice Well site is only a few yards away.

There are alot of people here. Kappa sees Patchouli Zane, Greenstyle and Sir Trance-alot amidst the throng. But before she can speak she hears her own voice.

"Run! They've got guns!"

It is not her who is speaking. A fake: a tape. One of the men turns his head, trying to pinpoint the origin of Kappa's voice. Then he spots Kappa. Greenstyle whips out a pencil from up his sleeve and points it at this man: tall, blonde dude.

Red dot on the blonde dude's chest. 

Patchouli Zane pulls a sawn-off shot-gun from his capacious pocket, points it in the approximate direction of the blonde man and fires. The bullet—or whatever it is—curves in the air, heading for the laser dot, but at the last second Greenstyle is kicked by Sir Trance-alot, who is standing nearby, and the mini-warhead misses by an
inch.
It hits a brick wall and explodes. People are flung to the ground. Then there is a second, far larger explosion at the entrance to the Chalice Well underground site.
Whoomph.
There is dust and earth and grit flying everywhere. Burning hot air gusts past Kappa as she flings herself to the road. Hard to breathe.

This is an assassination attempt.

Kappa looks up. The tall blonde man—she
knows
it must be Master Sengel—is running towards the Tor, the entrance to his headquarters obliterated. Greenstyle and Sir Trance-alot are engaged in a massive ruckus. But Patchouli Zane is cold and focussed, and already he is following his bloodhound, now free of the leash and sniffing out the scent of the victim... both of them now out of sight inside the dust cloud.

Kappa looks on in horror. This, of course, was all planned. This is who the government wanted to trace—through her. This is how to kill an invisible man.

"
No!
" she yells.

Robbie Blacksword is at her side, lifting her to her feet. "Robbie!" she chokes. "They're after Master Sengel!"

"Huh?"

"You know, Robin Hood! We've got to stop Patchouli Zane!"

Robbie does not understand as much as Kappa, but he knows this name and he can grasp the urgency of the moment, so in seconds he and Kappa are sprinting up the lane along which Master Sengel and Patchouli Zane have already passed on their way to the Tor. In seconds they are fighting their way through mini permacultures, apples and brambles and spuds and courgettes, all mixed in with their companion plants, creating a dense greenery through which the narrowest of paths has been forged. Not easy to follow. It is along such dark alleys, roofed by green boughs and protected by thorn and gate, that Master Sengel is being chased. And he is no longer protected by invisibility.

A second shot rings out. Kappa gasps and stands still, but she hears no yell of pain. Voices of shock and anger are raised, however—the Tor People, outraged at this intrusion of violence.

"Keep going!" she urges Robbie.

They struggle on. They are free of the lanes now and on the lowest slopes of the Tor, before them an almost impenetrable maze of trees and veggies, bushes and chicken roosts, glittering peace-engines and whizzing windmills. A fleeting echo of Radio Free Festival drifts down from the tipi style enviros that the Tor People like to live in, but through this cool beauty strides a killer.

Kappa shields her eyes against the sun and tries to spot fast motion. The Tor People move slow, but Master Sengel and the assassin, she reasons, will be fast. She should be able to spot them.

"Can you see them?" she asks Robbie.

He points high. "There!"

Kappa looks, sees two dark shapes each surrounded by whipping, thrashing greenery: the two men in flight, no more than a hundred yards away. The bloodhound is barking its head off.

"C'mon! We've got to get to Patchouli Zane."

Tor People nearby are calling out, "Kappa!" and "What's going on?" and "They went that way!"

Kappa and Robbie struggle on. The slope here is gentle, but after only twenty yards it gets steeper, and there are gates, styles and vegetation in their way. Soon, both of them are gasping for breath. They have to rest for a sec.

A third, then a fourth shot rings out. The bloodhound is going mental. Voices shout, some in fear, others in anger. But here a lone gun can rule. Patchouli Zane will not find opponents standing in his way.

They hurry on. A concentrated effort and they are two thirds of the way up the Tor, with a comparatively gentle slope ahead; the lone tower of Saint Michael's in view, covered by a mohican of windmills. From shouting, from the sight of people running, and from the whip and slash of vegetation they can see that Master Sengel is making for the tower, with Patchouli Zane perhaps forty yards behind.

"Don't leave me," Kappa gasps. "Need your muscle. I can smell Robin. You'll have to take out Patchouli."

"Okay," Robbie replies. Fit, he is not so hoarse as Kappa.

They run on. Kappa's legs are turning to lead, but, determined that Master Sengel must never face his assassin, she has a panicky energy that for the moment is sustaining her. They forge their way through the undergrowth, leaves slapping into their faces, thorns cutting them; all distractions of which they take no heed.

And then the tower is near, and Kappa realises that she must be careful.

This is a different situation. Clearer views, windy, less greenery, two score Tor People, perhaps more; Master Sengel out of sight. But the bloodhound is sniffing and doing its work—Kappa is fifty yards behind the assassin, and she can see the frantic dog. Patchouli Zane looks around. Many of the Tor People are hurrying away or hiding. The place is clearing. Then Patchouli Zane glances over his shoulder. Kappa and Robbie duck behind a bush, and they are not seen.

"What now?" Robbie asks. "He's got the rifle."

"I know, I know," Kappa whispers. "Shhh!"

"What will Robin be doing?"

"Don't know. Just watch."

"But he can't escape."

"Shhh!"

The bloodhound is barking again and running off. Patchouli Zane steadies the rifle then follows the dog. Kappa and Robbie creep forward, using vegetation as cover. Then from a tipi near the top of the Tor a figure emerges, and it is Partzephanaiah, looking cool, no sign of anxiety, in his hand a six-button frank (Frank, Frank Zappa, zapper, remote control). He looks across the Tor, manipulating the frank while Patchouli Zane and the bloodhound approach. Something of a stand-off begins, as a suspicious Patchouli Zane watches the chilled Partzephanaiah. There is no sign of Master Sengel.

Patchouli Zane calls out, "Hand him over!" He aims the rifle at Partzephanaiah, but it is obvious that the bloodhound knows this is not who they seek.

Partzephanaiah says nothing, concentrating on the buttons of the frank, which he is tapping as if playing a computer game. Patchouli Zane takes a few steps forward. Then something passes over Kappa's head, smooth and silent, like a shadow, but it is a lotus flier and it is heading for Patchouli Zane. There is a collision. Patchouli Zane is knocked to the ground, while the bloodhound, spooked, barks and runs off with its tail between its legs. Partzephanaiah chucks the frank to the grass and concentrates on immobilising the dazed Patchouli Zane, while Kappa and Robbie run up.

"Well done!" Kappa cries.

"Nice one, yo," Partzephanaiah replies. "But this not what I is expectin' when the boss ask me to develop them lotus technology. Still, it is workin' nice."

They tie Patchouli Zane's hands behind his back. Kappa looks for the bloodhound, but it has run away. Then she sees the lotus rising from a clear spot behind Saint Michael's, and on it is a figure: Master Sengel, it must be.

They have escaped the assassination attempt by the skin of their teeth.

...not absent...

Nulight decides that he needs advice. The popularity and success of the Tru-Rah gig in Boscastle, the enthusiasm with which Phil and Simon were received, not to mention the happy vibe of the village, have all contributed to a feeling that he has somehow missed out on part of Master Sengel's plan. Sure, he still distrusts the man, but there is something deep and wholesome about Tru-Rah that he missed before, perhaps something in its 'seventies analogue roots, or its joyous mesmerism, something that now has him hooked. Intellectually, however, he remains undecided. He has not forgotten those arguments about the Tintagel scene—but he was a fool then.

He'd better think up an apology for Kappa.

But, anyway, advice. In a remote cave, high up on the mini-moor behind Boscastle, there lives a solitary ascetic, or so the locals claim. This dude can dispense advice. He's at home at the moment, in fact.

Nulight walks alone one misty morning along the pot-holed road behind the village, until he is high enough for low cloud to engulf him. He walks on: he has a map, and visibility, though low, is still a hundred yards or so. After a couple of hours he is following a farm road, all mud and grasses, then a trail dotted with sheep droppings, and finally a low hedge. The cloud is rising yet it remains misty, the sun peeking out occasionally, a pale white disk in ragged swathes. But there is the cave.

Nulight approaches. When he is a few yards from the cave entrance—which, he notes, is unspoiled by footprints—he calls out, "Anybody home?"

No reply.

"Hey, anybody there? Ascetic?"

A synthesized voice replies, "You may enter."

Nulight enters the cave. The air is much warmer inside, as if he has passed through an invisible barrier. The cave is full of fabulous tech: screens, computers, terminals et al, all linked up with fine cabling, all lit by small glow-globes so that the place appears silver-studded upon blue. At the rear of the cave he sees a figure seated on a chaise longue; an old man with his legs crossed, aura of contentment and relaxation. Long, white hair and round, tinted spectacles. So—the ascetic is Steven Wilson. Nulight will be interested to hear what the man has to say.

"Hey, it's good to see you," he hazards.

Steven is cool, remaining nonchalant, brushing a speck of dust off the back of his chaise longue. "Nice to see you too," he replies, in a voice soft yet authoritative. He glances at the roof of the cave, pushes his specs up to the bridge of his nose, and adds, "I've got a cave in every county."

Is this man actually here? "Maybe you got some advice for me," Nulight says.

"You can ask me three questions," Steven replies, "to which I reply only yes or no."

Not as easy as Nulight first thought.

"Okay, yeah, right," Nulight mumbles. He thinks for a moment, separating what he must know and what is not important, before asking his first question. "Should I accept Tru-Rah into my life?"

"Yes."

Hmmm. Well, that was not an unexpected reply; good to have it confirmed.

Nulight then asks his second question. "Should I trust Master Sengel?"

"Yes."

Nulight grimaces. He was hoping that the answer to that question would be no.

"Okay..." he murmurs. Better grasp the nettle. "Can I overcome the aliens?"

"No."

No?

Nulight is shocked. There can be no other reply than
Yes
to this question.

"But—"

"The answer is no," Steven insists.

"But it can't be. There
must
be a way to beat them."

Steven says nothing. Beside the chaise longue is a small table on which lie a silver milk jug and two sets of cups and saucers, each studded silver on metallic blue.