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The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Three: In which Ms Waltz and Mr Kotyk kindly provide legal assistance against another kind of bloodsucker Monday, 23-Aug-1999 07:07:05
The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Three In which Ms Waltz and Mr Kotyk kindly provide legal assistance against another kind of bloodsucker My ongoing enquiries into the energy-converting device whose plans and patent I snapped up for a song a decade or so back appear to have upset quite a few people. First the apparently infamous Nazi criminal Baron Zemo and then the Yakuza head Akiko Masamune have sent out unpleasant people (although I feel it unfair to include Ms. Pegasus in so broad and boorish as generality) to retrieve the plans. However, young industrialist Jaime Bautista has already cleared one of his laboratories by the simple expedient of mixing a few chemicals and causing an almighty explosion, and intends to reconstruct the device one we can secure the appropriate components. I have spent the last few days in the rather jolly city of New Orleans, a delightful place which has all the joys of French cuisine and the Parisian joi de vivre without actually having to go to France. I confess that I have sloped off from my quest to find more about the gentleman who filed the original patent once or twice, because the little alleys and hidden bookshops all seem so very inviting. I seem to be behaving as if I was twenty again, which is absurd in a man of my years. My years! If only I was a younger man I could fall very deeply for the solicitor whom young Tina recommended to assist me in my enquiries. Ms Waltz and her two assistants arrived yesterday. Mr Kotyk is a rather eager young chap, somewhat naive I feel but he appears to be of the right stuff. Why when the zombies had us all cornered… but I get ahead of my narrative. The only real peculiarity in the lad is his constant affectation of sunglasses, but perhaps the lad is a martyr to hey fever or something. The other young person was somewhat harder to comprehend. Lisette – she apparently owns no other name, claiming that like Madonna she only requires the one (although I pointed out that actually the Blessed Virgin was properly known as Mary of Nazareth) – speaks some strange language which I have yet to fathom. I quietly offered through Ms Waltz to contribute towards a more decorous ensemble for the young lass since she clearly cannot afford clothes which are not torn at the knees and appears to have a shocking lack of foundation garments, but Ms Waltz tells me this is by choice rather than circumstance. It is a strange world. As for Ms Waltz herself, she is a lady of immense intelligence, sophistication and kindness, 5’5” of sleek beauty with reddish-brown hair and hazel eyes; and with a good deal of what in my day we called vim and guts. Hardly had we begun our enquiries at the central records office than the doors flew open and a bunch of what I at first took to be unkempt local individuals burst in. From their shambling gait they appeared to me to be drunk, but Ms Waltz identified their condition at once. “Zombies!” she gasped. Apparently Zombies are something of a seasonal phenomenon in Paradopolis where Ms Waltz practices. Memo to self: enquire regarding the reference to “Disco Hitler”. In actuality Ms Waltz was correct. These chaps did appear to be somewhat lacking in the life department. “Beware, Ms Waltz, they may be after our flesh,” I warned the brave attorney. “Nothing new there,” Ms Waltz replied. And from nowhere I could discern she produced a long bullwhip and proceeded to keep the undead at bay whilst we sought a means of exit. “This has got to be because we were getting too close!” young Kotyk declared, scooping up the armful of books and papers we had been consulting. Ms Waltz instructed him to get them to safety, and the lad vanished the moment my back was turned. “This place is full of books and papers,” Lisette shouted excitedly. “Let’s burn them out!” And she produced from her rucksack a bottle which I now know to have been filled with petroleum spirits, since when she lit a rag protruding from the top and hurled it a conflagration quickly ensued. There was no time to remonstrate with the young person. There were others present in the library apart from ourselves and the zombies, and a storehouse of history and culture should not be lightly sacrificed. Hence I flipped out my pocketwatch and dialled back the last few moments. The firebomb returned to Lisette’s hand and this time I was able to intercept her before she hurled it. In the meantime the resourceful Ms Waltz had somehow managed to batter down the rear exit by the means of a pickaxe or hammer which she concealed about her person. I presume that Paradopolis is a dangerous place, and I suppose an attractive young woman cannot be too careful in the precautions she takes. She led the way into the alley behind the reference library; but unfortunately there were more of the loathsome zombies there. Then there was the sound of a revving engine and as if from nowhere (I swear there was a flash of sunlight at the exact moment which blinded me to his actual arrival) Kotyk rammed the shambling monstrosities with a jeep he had somehow acquired. We all piled in and I surreptitiously accelerated time around us to facilitate a speedy getaway. We retired to our hotel somewhat exhausted. Ms Waltz suggested a relaxing bath, but I had to inform her that unlike her own suite mine did not have anything but a shower. This seemed to disappoint Ms Waltz inordinately. Mr Kotyk and I examined the papers whilst the ladies were obluting. The filer of the patent was one Leonard Hopkins, and what was remarkable about the forms he filed was that it was obvious that he had not got the slightest idea what his invention did. More ominously, Mr Hopkins had died in a freak roller-skating accident mere hours after filing his claim on the technology. In the meantime what young Bryan (as I came to call him later) and I did not know was that Lisa was about to have a night-time visitor. Even as she soaked in the tub, apparently polishing the hammer which she had used to dextrously earlier, a shadowy form had appeared on the next-door balcony to Lisette’s room. Staring deeply into the legal secretary’s eyes the cloaked gentleman asked her politely if he could come in, to which she apparently answered, “Sure, dude,” which means, “Indeed yes,” in English. It was the work of a moment to entrance young Lisette, and then the caped intruder slipped into the adjoining apartment and thus crept upon the unawares Ms Waltz as she bathed. One feature of Ms Waltz’s retinue remains undescribed; indeed, almost impossible to describe. Suffice to say that apparently vampires can scale walls like spiders and walk through cobwebs without disturbing them, but this particular one couldn’t avoid treading on the tail of Ms Waltz’s pet cat. This particular feline, a ginger tom of malignant disposition and daunting odour, thereupon took a dislike for the vampiric interloper and launched itself at the unfortunate undead’s throat. And this contretemps alerted first Ms Waltz and then Mr Kotyk and myself of the intruder’s presence. The more I consider it, the more I’m convinced that cats are the perfect anti-vampire weapon. The nosferatu summoned rats and bats, which were simply playtime to Lisa’s psychopathic pet. The vampire tried to tame it with his hypnotic stare; but who can outstare a cat, especially one that’s just clawed your nose? Bryan and I burst into the apartments just in time to see Lisette stepping off the balcony into the mists beyond. The young man acted with sterling courage and dived after her, tumbling with her into the cobbled street below where the remaining zombie minions of the vampire awaited them. In the meantime I recalled some fragment of lore from Mr Stoker’s excellent novel, grasped the shower hose, and tested how the creatures of the night enjoyed running water. It irritates them. Hurling aside the feline, the vampire oriented upon me. Ms Waltz bounced her hammer off its head, stunning it momentarily and giving me time to fiddle with my timepiece. Temporary time-jumps are always tricky to set up. In this case however all I did was shift the vampire away for exactly four seconds – twelve hours into the future. When it was daylight. Another useful Stoker nugget. Little blighters don’t like it. Result: pile of ash on carpet four seconds later. I think Ms Waltz attributes it to her hammer. Once the nosferatu was properly sorted out all the zombies lost interest in being zombies and became piles of dead person, so Bryan and Lisette managed to get away unscathed as well. I averted my eyes and loaned Ms Waltz my jacket immediately the crisis was over, of course. The only clue to the vampire or why it might want to stop us discovering the history of Mr Leonard Hopkins was in the form of a little amulet we discovered in the ashes. Even now, after the delightful Ms Waltz and her compatriots have returned home their work completed I sit here puzzling this next clue in what is becoming a very perplexing trail. Must close now. A man in a red bathrobe has just appeared in my room claiming to have information about the talisman. Says his name might be Xander the Improbable. Mumphrey hopes he spelled Mr Kotyk's name correctly and apologises if he didn't. By the way, would it be possible for somebody to proffer some information on Ms Masamune, Mr Elsqueevio, Mr Caveguy, and Dr Vishnar, as they do not appear in the Hooded Hood's Who's Who guide. |
| The Journal of Sir Mumphrey Wilton, Extract Three: In which Ms Waltz and Mr Kotyk kindly provide legal assistance against another kind of bloodsucker (Mumphrey hopes he spelled Mr Kotyk's name correctly and apologises if he didn't. By the way, would it be possible for somebody to proffer some information on Ms Masamune, Mr Elsqueevio, Mr Caveguy, and Dr Vishnar, as they do not appear in the Hooded Hood's Who's Who guide.) (23-Aug-1999 07:07:05) |
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