The Mechanical Messiah (48 page)

‘I’ll fetch him, sir,’ said one, saluting as he made off in the direction of the mashed-up
Marie Lloyd.

Mr Winston Churchill emerged from the broken craft. Cigar in hand. The look upon his baby face was not one of joy at the figure in black’s arrival.

‘What do
you
want?’ asked the young Mr Churchill.

‘You will show me the politeness that my position in the Government merits,’ hissed the figure in black.

‘What do you want,
sir?’
asked Mr Churchill, taking a mighty suck upon his cigar.

‘You have never cared for me, have you, Churchill?’ asked the figure in black.

Mr Churchill shook his head. ‘You are the Chancellor of the Exchequer,’ said he. ‘Exactly how you gained this exalted position, no one seems to know. Or should I say that those who
do
know do not dare to say?’

‘Strong words,’ hissed the figure. ‘You would do well to modify your behaviour and your manners if you wish to retain
your
exalted position.’

Mr Churchill made a frowning face. Then sucked once more on his cigar.

‘What do you want,
sir?’
he repeated through the smoke. ‘The case of minerals aboard the ship. The minerals that Corporal Mingus Larkspur collected for me. In a bound box with the initials M. L. upon the top.’

‘We did find such a box of gold in one of the cabins,’ said Mr Churchill.

‘It is so much more than gold, my friend.’

‘No friend, I,’ said Mr Churchill, chugging at his cigar.

‘Fetch me the box and
now,’
said the figure in black and he poked at Mr Churchill with a blackly gloved finger.

Poke-poke-poke, it went.

Poke-poke-poke and peck-peck-peck as well.

Alice Lovell awoke in a bed that offered moderate comfort. She awoke to sun shining in at the window and poke-poke-poke-and-peck.

Alice blinked her eyes and said, ‘Oh my.

For bumbling all around and about a-poking and a-pecking too were dozens and dozens of kiwi birds.

‘Oh mercy me,’ said Alice.

olonel Katterfelto slept rather longer than usual and finally awoke to find himself in circumstances very much to his liking. He and Darwin had engaged a double suite of rooms at the Ritz the previous afternoon. The double suite was luxurious to say the very least.

Done to a perfection in the style of the legendary Enrico Dalberty, the walls were clothed in sumptuous silks that glowed in the early sunlight. Lacquered tables and burnished brass vases created the ambience of an Aladdin’s cave, where treasures twinkled in every corner and there were wonders galore.

The colonel bathed in a circular bath hewn from a single piece of speckled basalt and fed with heated water by golden taps in the shape of diving dolphins. Lemongrass bath oil offered a heady fragrance. The colonel’s uniform hung on a peg, thoroughly laundered by lackeys who laboured at night.

As he bobbed about and tasted a morning snifter of champagne, the old soldier thought back to the doings of the previous day. In particular to the latter doings. When he had revisited the engineering works at Alperton to collect his key to the rented chapel, wherein awaited the Mechanical Messiah.

He had experienced extraordinary difficulty even entering the engineering works. The colonel had hired one of the new electrically powered flying hansoms, but when this put down before FERRIS ENGINEERING, armed guards immediately surrounded it.

‘What goes on here?’ the colonel demanded to be told.

But he was hauled immediately from the hansom and marched away to a gatepost. Where his name, rank and number were taken.

Huffing and puffing in the manner of a small steam train, the colonel was forced to await the arrival of a slight officious fellow with a polished iron beard and a black uniform that bore insignia quite unknown to the old campaigner.

Within a tiny room that lacked for windows and charm, a curious interview followed.

‘Please be seated.’ The slight officious fellow indicated a stool. Then sat himself down on a taller chair.

‘Prefer to stand,’ said the colonel. ‘Prefer more to get what I came for and go.’

‘This is now a restricted area where weapons are designed and manufactured. FERRIS ENGINEERING leads the world in such marvels of the modern age,’ said the slight officious fellow with the polished iron beard. ‘You cannot simply turn up here without the correct clearance documentation. A state of National Emergency exists.’

‘Ah,’ puffed the colonel. ‘You mean that business with the spaceship in Trafalgar Square. Rum do that, to be sure.

‘Have you been abroad?’ asked the iron-bearder, making certain notes upon paper attached to a clipboard with a pen of advanced design that whistled when he used it. ‘In France, perhaps?’

‘Could say I’ve been abroad.’ The colonel viewed this bothersome being with ill-concealed contempt. ‘Hunting trip. Big-game hunt. Been away for a year, it seems.

‘Ah, the Dark Continent.’ The iron-bearder made more notes with his whistling pen. ‘Soon to become a much lighter continent.’ He laughed as if this were quite a joke. The colonel was perplexed.

‘The State of National Emergency has existed now for several months. Since the installation of the new administration, the National Executive has identified certain factions within our very midst. Subversive factions. Factions that must be brought under control.’

‘Anarchists and the like?’ said the colonel.

‘Anarchists, Bolsheviks, foreigners, off-worlders, Jews. To name but a few.’

‘Pardon me?’ said the colonel, his mouth dropping horribly open.

‘The list grows longer every day. They say Her Majesty never leaves her sitting room at Windsor now. Gentlemen of the National Executive Special Operations Unit maintain a constant vigil. And a good thing too, you will agree, after what happened yesterday. A suicide mission in a stolen spaceship set to destroy the Royal Family.’

The colonel made coughing sounds deep in his throat. ‘Suicide mission?’ he ventured.

‘Exactly what the National Executive has been predicting. As soon as the nation that launched this outrage has been identified, war will be declared upon them.’

‘Don’t think
that’s
really necessary,’ mumbled the colonel. Then, viewing the very hard stare he received, he said, ‘But you chaps know your own job best, I suppose.’

‘You will receive your recall papers shortly,’ said he of the iron beard.

‘My
what?’
went Colonel Katterfelto.

‘Your records are on the way from London. Once I have checked through them I will assign you a rank.’

‘I am a
colonel,
be damned!’ boomed the colonel. ‘And now an angry one, too.’

‘Some vacancies exist in the catering corps,’ said the man upon the high chair, showing not a hint of concern. ‘A chap of your advanced years should at least be able to cook up some beans without getting himself into trouble.’ The iron-bearder smiled upon the colonel.

There had been some unpleasantness.

Burly guards had been forced to restrain the colonel. They had not treated him kindly at all.

It was many hours later and after a very great deal of further interviewing from a chap who, unlike his predecessor, had not had his iron beard forcibly rammed into a private place, that Colonel Katterfelto left FERRIS ENGINEERING, carrying the key to his rented chapel.

The flying hansom had long departed, and the colonel had a long march back to London.

But that was yesterday and today was a new day and one filled with hope for the colonel. Today in fact might well be the very day when he would put all the world to right.

The day when he would energise
Heaven’s Last and Best Gift to Mankind.
The Mechanical Messiah.

His ablutions completed, shaving done and other details too, Colonel Katterfelto donned his very-clean-but-now-quite-faded uniform, slipped the
Magoniam
that had spent the night beneath his pillow into its pockets and took himself downstairs for a bang-up breakfast.

He sat all alone in the magnificent dining room and was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected arrival of Darwin.

The monkey carried a rolled newspaper. He sat himself down opposite the colonel and ordered coffee, which rather startled the waitress.

‘Probably prudent not to be
too
chatty,’ said the colonel. ‘Not everyone prepared to buy the idea that you’re me weirdo nephew.’

Darwin spied a fruit bowl and helped himself to all the bananas in it. ‘Have you read the news today?’ said Darwin. ‘Oh boy!’

‘Trouble?’ said the colonel. ‘Trouble about the spaceship, I’ll wager.’

‘Trouble all over,’ said Darwin. ‘The Prime Minister is no longer in power, it appears. Some strange National Executive run by the Chancellor of the Exchequer controls the country now. Folk are being called up to prepare for a “Righteous War”.’

‘Had a bit of a set-to at Alperton yesterday.’ The colonel feasted on cornflakes. ‘Didn’t want to bother you with it last night, you were asleep when I got back. World’s gone mad since we’ve been away.

‘Are you visiting your rented chapel today?’ asked Darwin.

The colonel nodded, munching as he did so.

Darwin peeled a banana and pushed it complete into his mouth.

‘Mmmph grumpgh mm mmph,’ he said.

‘Rude to speak with your mouth full, old chap.’

Darwin swallowed. ‘I said I will gladly come with you,’ he said.

‘Jolly good show,’ said the colonel.

The waitress brought Darwin coffee. She was a pretty waitress. Darwin thanked her and offered her a wink. The waitress all but fainted.

‘The world needs us, Darwin,’ said the colonel, pouring coffee for his friend. ‘Today could be the most important day of your life. You and me together, eh? Get the job all jobbed, doncha know.’

‘Yes,’ said Darwin. ‘Quite so. And then in return I would appreciate it if you accompanied me to Coutts. There you must endorse my role as your “weirdo nephew”. The reaction of the waitress leads me to believe that folk are presently in a somewhat nervous state. I need you with me, Colonel.’

‘Happy to help, my dear fellow. Happy to help, oh yes.’

There was a certain unease. Although the sun shone down upon the great heart of the British Empire, there was no joy to be found upon the streets. Darwin and the colonel noticed things that they had not upon the previous day. What with all the excitement and everything. There were posters everywhere, pasted upon walls and shop windows. Posters that offered dire predictions. Demanded vigilance. Warned of an ‘enemy within’ that was preparing to strike. Offered financial incentives for those loyal persons willing to inform against potential enemies of the nation. The word WAR figured big and everywhere.

And Londoners no longer walked along with heads held high. They scuttled almost insect-like with eyes turned to the pavement.

The colonel and the monkey viewed this from their horse-drawn hansom cab.

‘Damned queer business, all this,’ puffed Colonel Katterfelto. ‘Not the British way of doing things at all.’

The hansom’s driver peeped down through the little hatchway.

‘Sorry to bother you, guv’nor,’ he said, ‘but you do ‘ave a licence for that thing, don’t you?’

‘For that
thing?’
bawled the colonel.

‘Well, it ‘as to ‘ave a licence. Prove it’s your pet and that.’

‘Have you gone completely mad?’ asked Colonel Katterfelto.

‘No, guy. But come on now. That little fellow could be taken for a Johnny Frenchman any old day of the week.’

‘He is a monkey!’
roared the colonel. ‘A monkey, can’t you see?’

‘Whatever you say, guv’nor.’ The hansom driver laughed. ‘But if he starts talking, I’ll know ‘im for a Frenchie and put a bullet in ‘is ‘ead.’

Darwin opened his mouth to protest. The colonel covered it quickly with his hand.