Today was a rather peculiar day. Started out as usual, of course. Woke up, felt across for Madge, found the little dip in the mattress where she used to sleep, remembered that I’d never roll over and find her there again. Damn. I suppose after two years I should remember that she’s passed on, but old habits and all that.
Anyway, no point dwelling. Must keep busy. I did the usual bathroom stuff. Bit more grey creeping into the muttonchop whiskers. To be expected. Drove to the City, observing the speed limits, being polite to pedestrians. Arrive about 7.55am. Always does to keep the staff on their toes. Caught young Prentiss illicitly using that computer internet thingie they’re always talking about to chat with some friends in-line or whatever it is. He kept spluttering apologies all morning. Wish I knew how to use those computer gadgets.
Checked the post. Letter from Felicity’s husband, wanting to borrow more money. Never known a man back so many bad businesses. Madge would have had something to say about her son-in-law’s behaviour. Letter from Roland, duties to dear father and all that, but what he was really saying between the lines was isn’t it time I stepped down from Wilton Industries and gave him a crack at being top dog. Suppose I’ll have to some day, but it’s hard to make someone top dog when they’re such a poodle. Some curious letter from a German nobleman regarding a patent I apparently bought up a decade or so back. Apparently wants to buy it off me. Something a bit odd about the letter and the chap’s eagerness, so I told Miss Dawkins to prevaricate while I looked into it.
Lunch at Ffoulks’, then back to my desk at 2.15. Had a briefing meeting with Seddings from the Tunbridge plant. Man’s an idiot. Doesn’t he talk to his shop floor people? It’s been months since I got up there but the jolly first thing I did was have a buttie with the workforce and get them to tell me what’s really going on. Didn’t work up a multi-million pound empire just by listening to the Seddings of this world. Was just about to offer him some much needed management advice in the form of a kick to the pants when the office wall shattered into shrapnel.
Seddings fainted dead on the spot. Man wouldn’t have lasted a minute in my regiment. He wouldn’t have lasted a minute in my House at school, for that matter. Man’s an oik.
Anyway, in came six quite extraordinary chappies and two chapesses. Better describe ‘em because I’m not sure I’ll believe them myself in the morning. In charge was a woman wearing, I swear it’s the truth, a cow’s head. Must have been damned difficult to breathe through all that. Told her as much later, and she admitted that it was murder on her perm. The other young lady was a rather topping-looking gal with a pony tail. Reminded me a bit of the fillies at the riding club, sort of horsey but nice with it. Oh, and she had wings, with feathers. Fascinating. The men were nothing like as interesting. There was a thug in a black slimy all-over body stocking with a huge red tongue. There was a foulmouthed young man who I very quickly told to mind his P’s and Q’s. Miss Dawkins was in the next room after all. A chap with a scythe for one hand which must have made having breakfast or doing his flies up very uncomfortable. Said as much to him and he didn’t like it. Weedy looking chap pointing a stick at me. Big strong fellow who must work out a lot with a big red W across his chest. Not too bright in my view, but made a special point to be nice to him in case he was one of the simple folk. And there was another chap who it’s very hard to describe, as the eye just kept slipping off him. Actually gave the man my tailor’s card. Told him that old Edmund would fix him up with something stylish and sharp that would make him a bit more noticeable. Fellow seemed overwhelmed that I’d taken the trouble to notice him and speak to him. Probably a bit shy.
I was told later that these fellows are actually desperados, some sort of nasty club called the Scourge of Baron Zemo’s Lair. American-style super-chappies. The cow-woman was the diabolical Dr Moo, the others were Pegasus (the pretty lady), Venom, Jam, Grim Reaper, Wonderbooster, the late great Donald Blake, and the Man Who Wasn’t There. Dashed strange names, don’t you think?
Anyway, even though they’d really been quite rude in smashing the wall down I invited them to come in, buzzed Miss Dawkins for some extra chairs and to get somebody to cart Seddings away and opened up the drinks cabinet. No excuse for a breach of hospitality, even though the Scourge people seemed surprised to be offered a snifter. I suppose it was a bit early in the day.
Turns out that Dr Moo had been sent to get that patent the German chappie wanted. Seems they needed the plans that went with it as well, because their boss, this Baron, wanted it for “one of his masterschemes.” In conversation it became clear that he wasn’t actually a very nice bloke. “Do you mean to tell me,” I accused them in no uncertain manner, “that you work for the same Heinrich Zemo who’s the wanted war criminal? A Nazi? How can you look yourselves in the faces in the mornings? Aren’t you ashamed of yourselves? What would your mothers think?”
One or two of them had the good grace to blush at that, I noticed. The horsie-gal and the chap with the big W for example. But the cow-woman just got annoyed, and then Venom threatened to pull Miss Dawkins’ head off.
Well good secretaries are hard to come by, so of course I had to take them down to the vaults where I keep my important bits and pieces. By now the police had all arrived outside and hostage negotiators were already on the phones trying to set up their book deals, so there was quite a cafuffle happening on the street. That Man Who Wasn’t There and the cane chappie Blake stayed above ground to keep an eye on the long arm of the law while the rest came with me.
By this time it was pretty clear to me that I really didn’t have much choice. The desperados wouldn’t leave without hurting anyone unless they got what they wanted. The Baron needed this patent and plans for some nefarious scheme which was probably not going to do people a lot of good. And here I was surrounded by strange super-powered bounders. Like I said, I had no choice.
So I took the key off my watch fob and undid safe-deposit box 666 and removed the contents. It wasn’t the patent and plans, of course, but they didn’t know that. My old pocketwatch was as shiny and bright as the day I put it away there back when Felicity was born. Brought a happy tear to my eye as I remembered holding the girl as a new babe. Anyway the old chronometer seemed as good as new.
The cow-headed one was just objecting that this wasn’t what they’d come for when I pushed down winder one and slowed time down sufficiently for them to notice that something was terribly wrong. The old reflexes all came back to me as if it wasn’t twenty-five years. The Grim Reaper pointed his scythe and fired some kind of crackly-energy-bolt thingie and Dr Moo shot off something that looked like milk from a sort of water-pistol. That was what I’d been waiting for so I fully stopped time and rearranged them so that they were facing each other. The nice young lady had been polite throughout so I only handcuffed her to the vault doors. The big chappie with the W looked a bit tough to me so I connected him up to the mains. Then, and this was the yeuchky part, I wrapped that chap in black’s big prehensile tongue round Wonderbooster so he’s get the benefit as well.
By this time the chonometer alarm was chiming to warn me that the charge was almost used up, but I couldn’t resist dashing out to the vault washroom and getting some soap for that Jam’s mouth before handcuffing him as well. As the chronal charge expired I just got out of the way and watched the sport.
As soon as the electricity started to flow it zapped right through Wonderbooster and seared venom as well. I was a bit alarmed because neither of them was actually knocked out by it but since both got the idea that the other had attacked them they got into a terrible brawl and finished each other off anyway. Meanwhile the scythe-chappie was writhing around as if the milk on him was acid of something before finally fainting. The cow-lady had been stunned senseless by the scythe-blast.
I apologised to Ms. Pegasus for the inconvenience of handcuffing her. The Jam fellow was saying the most terrible things again so I had no choice but to replace my pocketwatch on it’s waistcoat chain and ding him on the head with it. That discouraged him.
Of course there were still the two vagabonds upstairs. Fearing that the police might try and storm the place with riot police or something and that somebody might get hurt I used the partially-restored chronal charge in a way I don’t really like to, stopping the hearts of the Fellow Who Wasn’t There and Mr Blake just long enough to put them out. Always risky that, the moreso because I’m out of practise. Still, needs must and all that.
Detective Inspector Gallowglass was quite surprised when I opened the front door and invited him in. Explained that they’d had a sort of a squabble and must have done for one another. Felt a bit sorry when they led Ms Pegasus off in the Paddy Wagon though. Must have fallen in with a bad crowd or something.
Fished out patent and plans they were all so interested in but couldn’t make head nor tail of them. Sent letter to Herr Zemo telling him that he was a bounder and a cad and a damned Nazi to boot and he could whistle for his patent.
All in all rather enjoyed today. For some reason haven’t put the old chonometer back in it’s box. Think I might start wearing it again. Amazing how right it feels there on my waistcoat. Feel younger than I have since Madge died. Must ding more malefactors round the head.
Expect haven’t heard the last of Zemo. These Nazis are a persistent breed of oik. Decided I’d better work out what these plans are all about before more of the ungodly come knocking. Contacted old business acquaintance who had a knack for gadgets and was shocked to find he’d been dead for more than five years. Son running business now but apparently also has a way with dooberries and therefore willing to take a scan at the patents and plans and try and make some sense of ‘em.
Flying over to the Philippines to meet young Mr Bautista next Friday.
Read paper. Did crossword. Read chapter of “The Good Companions”. Brushed teeth. Said goodnight to Madge (as always). Went to bed.
