Baron Zemo's Lair. - The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Twenty-One: In which Mumphrey has a fascinating kidnap and works out the plot

Baron Zemo's Lair

The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Twenty-One: In which Mumphrey has a fascinating kidnap and works out the plot
Wednesday, 24-Nov-1999 12:08:02
195.92.194.105 writes:

The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Twenty-One
In which Mumphrey has a fascinating kidnap and works out the plot

“Who the devil are you, sir?” I demanded upon regaining consciousness. Never like chloroform, ruins the palate for weeks afterwards.
“I’ll ask the questions,” the ill-shaven man in the postman’s outfit and trenchcoat snarled. “Starting with what you know about Leonard Hopkins’ discovery twenty years ago in Death Valley.”
Did a quick check of my circumstances. Arms and legs very professionally tied. In some kind of garage or hangar, facing unknown adversary who had scrobbled me from the airport in a most efficient manner. Therefore blustered a while and let him intimidate me into confessing about the microfilm in the back of my pocketwatch.
Don’t normally like to tell fibs, but under the circs. felt it was within the bounds, given that this fellow wasn’t exactly being sporting either. Of course there wasn’t any microfilm – M. Wilton KBE wouldn’t spot microfilm if it was served on a scone with cream and jam, but have read many of the works of Mr I. Fleming and Mr J. leCarre. However, anyone unauthorised trying to open the pocketwatch triggers an automatic defence protocol thingie which locks them in time, effectively making a statue out of them for as long as the temporal charge holds.
Anyway, once the kidnapper johnny was suitably time-frozen I put some thought to escaping. Pocketwatch was on nearby table but really out of reach, so used other means. Wiggled over to kidnapper and rummaged in his pockets hoping for penknife. Found some post-card sized razor-sharp metal objects which did the job nicely on the ropes. Retrieved temporal chronometer and increased time-stop charge on postman chappie to give me a chance to look round.
Paranoid fellow. Had to rewind time three times to avoid various nasty booby-traps on filing systems. Used up a good deal of the chronal charge. Eventually found his notes were in code. Looked like some variant of Vattan, that supposed angelic language that French chappie designed at the end of the last century. Eventually concluded that best course was just to talk with the fellow. Took precaution of tying the chap up first though.
The man was called “the Messenger”. Explained himself a little in the time it took him to find out that I’d time-stopped the knots holding him fast (well, all he knew was they weren’t unravelling, but he still somehow managed to saw through them in under two minutes – dashed impressive really). Turns out he’s on a crusade to eliminate evil and injustice. Aren’t we all? His crusade seems to involve blowing the heads of malefactors in general. I put it to him that this could be construed as a bit severe, but when he described some of the pustulences he’s had to remove from the planet I must admit he may have been performing public services.
Anyway, with credentials established to our mutual satisfaction, I suggested an info. exchange, preferably over a bottle of Bolly in a decent restaurant. Messenger looked like he needed a decent feed. His preferred activity was to infiltrate Baron Zemo’s computer system and interrogate it regarding the Sempiternus Singularum.
Seems Zemo has minion named Millennium Bug who specialises in doing sneaky computer spying type things. Operates out of some sort of computer routing centre in the Grand Caymans – which is where Messenger happened to have brought me. He suggested that we have a word with this Bug person to find out what Zemo’s interest in all of this is.
As always these things turn out to be a little more tricky than one expects. Messenger was very efficient about eliminating the security on the secret computer centre (which was disguised with fiendish cunning to look like a computer centre), even the little mechanised rat things (didn’t have to so much as finger the pocketwatch, so efficient was the postal chappie). Problem was actually getting info from their computer systems. Damn sight more complex than that jolly little laptop thingie that Asil likes so much.
Messenger explained that because this Millennium Bug character can merge with computers he doesn’t need “a normal interface”. Vaguely associated this with not shaving, but not entirely certain of the jargon. Apparently this Bug can plug himself straight into the systems without need for mice or hamsters or bytes or anything. Only way to get info out of this computer database is to attract the chappie himself and get him to extract it for us.
Messenger therefore arranged a minor malfunction. We sat back and waited, hoping that it would be the Millennium Bug who came to fix it.
Got a chance to chat with Messenger. Imagine he doesn’t talk to people much these days – most haunted eyes I’ve ever seen. Took a while to get him to chat. Poor fellow! Turns out his girlfriend was murdered by some evil swine, and his best friend (another clone I believe, of whom he was the doody head – that is, the genetic material donor as Asil explained) was also killed off. Fellow’s almost literally been through hell and back. What he couldn’t see, but what was so very evident to me, was that he was still such a loving, caring man, such a good man; otherwise it wouldn’t hurt him so much to have to do what he has to do. But least said soonest mended.
Wish I could have done something to help him though.
Anyway, a few hours after midnight local time the automatic shutters roll up and this odd chap in some sort of coleoptorous armour sneaks in. Surreptitiously tuned watch onto him in case Messenger’s attack didn’t work, and was surprised to read that he didn’t exist at all – only a collection of light looking like a person. Before I could warn Messenger, the postman leaped out and passed straight through the thing. “Did you take me for a fool, interloper?” the hologram gloated. “My equipment does not malfunction. I anticipated your trap. Now taste the wrath of the Millennium Bug!”
A wall-panel opened and thousands of tiny mechanical insects swarmed out over Messenger. This attack was very hard to fight, of course, and they were ripping him to shreds. I quickly shifted the fellow half-a-minute into the future to get the robo-gnats off him and used the pocketwatch to find out where the nearest time-dwelling humanoid lifeform other than me was. Located a service panel at about the moment the robotic insects spotted me.
By this time the old chronometer was running a bit low on temporal charge, so I couldn’t really zap myself into the future and there were too many of them to quickly shift them, so instead I shifted the panel, grabbed the real Millennium Bug by the antennae, and threw him at his robo-gnats.
“For that you die!” he promised, orienting some rather dodgy-looking stingers in my direction.
The Messenger reappeared next to him.
It was brief, and for one of the combatants, painful.
Millennium Bug chose co-operating over Messenger tearing his mandibles off (I think he said mandibles, but he was whispering at the time). Messenger can be very persuasive. The Bug retrieved the information we were after regarding the little device everybody was hunting. And very interesting it was too.
Seems that old Peter von Doom had a deal with this other-dimensional nasty called Dark Thugos, Tyrant of the Sol Empire. This Thugos chappie sent von Doom all the advanced kit he needed to do his archvillaining – well, that explains how PvD managed to come up with all that impressive hardware when he seems to have hardly been a mastermind form all accounts. Thugos secretly owned the New Tomorrow Foundation which sent von Doom out to retrieve the diabolical care packages that their master sent through the dimensional barrier. On one such occasion, innocent research assistant Leonard Hopkins pocketed a bit of equipment he thought von Doom wouldn’t miss (and didn’t miss until Thugos asked about it). Hopkins studied it, patented what he hoped would be important scientific processes, and was eliminated by the assassin called the Bone when Thugos wanted to retrieve his missing apparatus.
Seems that Zemo has recently been contacted by Thugos’ sister and rival, Kumari, Queen of Reality. This has prompted the old Nazi’s interest in Thugos and the technology which the Sempiternus Singularum contains, hence the unholy scrabble to grab it earlier in my investigations.
What the computers didn’t say, because Zemo hasn’t told, is exactly what the Sempiternus Singularum is supposed to do.
Thanked the Millennium Bug for his co-operation, convinced Messenger not to kill him this time, and told the little villain to run along. Next stop is apparently the Lair Mansion, where there is a computer system able to decode the von Doom data. Messenger not keen on coming to the mansion with me; old business I gather.
Must get kidnapped more often if it turns out this interesting.

Herringcarp Asylum
Stroker's Island

December 1st

Dear Mrs Cartwell-Potterbright

Thank you for the materials you sent me for review concerning your father, Sir Mumphrey Wilton. I agree that he seems to be acting most strangely, and may not be compos mentis to conduct his own affairs. I will instigate proceedings for his committal to institutional care forthwith.

Yours sincerely,
Dr Maximillian Valium MD

Mumphrey