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Post By The Hooded Hood moves our story to England Mon Jun 14, 2004 at 08:38:04 am EDT |
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Sir Mumphrey Wilton and the Lost Temple of Mystery - Part the Fifteenth: The Expediter’s Visit and the Whitehall Terror | |
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| Part the Fifteenth: The Expediter’s Visit and the Whitehall Terror The Expediter found London much changed from his last visit almost a decade before. The streets were covered in blitz rubble, and raw gaps stood in the long rows of buildings. There were few children, for most had been evacuated to the countryside to avoid the relentless night bombings from Europe. Yet somehow amongst the ruins life went on in cheerful despite of the devastation of the city. It had been easy to enter the country. The Expediter had American papers, and many Americans were coming now to Fortress Britain to join the war effort. The Expediter had hardly needed to use his mental powers to convince port officials of his credentials and have them provide him with a car and driver from Liverpool to London. He strode confidently through Whitehall, tipping his hat with a gallant air at any ladies he passed, until he reached the anonymous-looking Georgian office block he was seeking. Most of the windows were boarded up and there were white gouges in the soot-stained façade where a buzz-bomb had come too close. But it was definitely the place. “Papers, sir,” a military policeman demanded of him as he approached the revolving door. “Take me inside,” the Expediter commanded. “This way, sir,” the guard agreed, swivelling with military precision and leading the way. It took less than five minutes for the Expediter to enter one of the best defended locations in the Allied war effort. Most of the real activity was taking place underground, of course. A lift descended through levels of basement and into older tunnels beneath. There was even an underground station here, long disused but pressed into service as a secret secure meeting place for Churchill’s War Cabinet. The Expediter speculated on how easy it would be to leave a bomb of some kind and wipe out the British high command at a single stroke. But though that might be a lucrative contract it would hasten the end of the war, and the Expediter was rather enjoying the opportunities of a world in conflict. “Brigadier Gallowglass,” the mercenary said to the pretty WAF secretary in one of the little alcove chambers safe below the city. “Where is he?” “He’s… not here sir,” she answered uncertainly. “Um, who are…” “Be silent, impertinent wench,” the Expediter scowled. “Unless I ask you a question,” he added after a moment’s thought. “Where is Gallowglass?” “He’s in Scotland sir, at Fastlane, checking on the fleet.” The Expediter made a growl. “But he is Sir Mumphrey Wilton’s handler, correct? The man who Wilton reports to?” “Sir Mumphrey comes here, yes,” the WAF agreed. “he and the Brigadier are old friends.” “Do you see what goes across Gallowglass’ desk? Do you know where Wilton sent the German dissident Bookman?” “Yes, sir. He’s to be placed with Dr Turing in the Enigma project, but first he’s gone down to Blatherville Manor in Devon to work on some coded book.” “The Bertram Diaries?” “I think that was it, yes.” “The Blatherville Manor, give me directions,” commanded the Expediter, and the helpless WAF private did so. The Expediter studied the directions then looked speculatively at his mind-slave. “Wilton is coming here?” he asked. “Yes sir. He arrived at RAF Molesworth by B-24 Liberator this morning and they’re driving him straight here.” “Excellent,” smiled the mercenary. “Very well, you can go.” Then he had an afterthought. “Yes, go from this place, and don’t remember ever meeting me. Go find yourself a man. Find yourself a hundred men, and do anything they ask of you. Be insatiable, and don’t stop until you’re certain you’re knocked up. Then live out your life knowing yourself to be a sad worthless slut. That is all.” He chuckled as the innocent WAF hurried off to obey his psychic orders and sauntered round the headquarters of the Allied war effort. He could see some amusing possibilities here. “I knew it was bad bach home,” Miss Canterbury admitted, “but I didn’t know it was this bad.” She stared out of the car window at the burned shells of buildings. One of the ruined houses was crawling with people pulling at the wreckage, trying to find survivors from last night’s raid. “That’s why we’re fightin’ the blighters,” Sir Mumphrey growled. “You don’t give in to bullies. Not done. Never done.” The black Bentley pulled through a pair of gates and under an arch into a cobbled courtyard. A polite uniformed policeman was waiting to open to door for them. “Where are we?” Miss Canterbury wondered. “We’re makin’ a report. Then we need to catch up with Bookman and work out what Bertram discovered back in his wanderings that’s got Adolf and his cronies so exited.” “Something that got them so excited that they murdered my father,” said Miss Canterbury darkly. “Exactly. So we’ll go in and wait for my old chum ‘Bagger’ Gallowglass to get here and then we’ll put our heads together on how to whack Jerry on the snoot.” The escort took them to the elevator and put them in it but didn’t join them. “Basement Seven,” he instructed them. “That button there.” Mumphrey gave him an odd look but pressed to go down. The policeman pulled the gates shut and the car descended. “Something wrong?” Miss Canterbury was learning to interpret the expressive twisting of her companion’s moustache. “Not procedure to let visitors downstairs without an escort,” Mumph worried. He reached for his pocketwatch. “I think we’d best just…” his voice trailed off as he did something complicated with the buttons and winder of the Chronometer of Infinity. The car rattled to a halt. An MP pulled the safety gate open and stepped aside. The three soldiers with machine guns emptied full clips into Sir Mumphrey and Miss Canterbury. Mumphrey and Miss Canterbury ignored them. But that was because the eccentric Englishman has actually pushed himself and his companion thirty seconds into the future, leaving a recovered image of them standing there as they had been thirty seconds in the past. Mumph reappeared in person just as the soldiers were approaching to investigate his lack of corporeality. He slammed his elbow into a face, then delivered a classic right hook at his second opponent. The third made the mistake of reaching for a sidearm and Sir Mumphrey had him unconscious before he could undo the holster-flap. “Look out! The one who opened the gates!” warned Miss Canterbury. Mumphrey clicked a stud on his watch and the revolver aimed at him rusted to uselessness. Then he leaped forward and battered the surprised MP to the floor. “What’s going on?” Miss Canterbury worried. “Why are out own side trying to kill us?” “Damn good question,” agreed Sir Mumphrey wrathfully. “Pardon the language. This way!” He led Miss Canterbury towards Brigadier Gallowglass’ office. A clerk with a paper-knife was hidden behind the door but Mumphrey disarmed him by slamming the door back hard and stunning the fellow. “Right,” he said, holding the clerk in a necklock, “Why are you so keen to perforate me, old chap?” “Ow, you’re hurting me,” his prisoner complained. “We’re only killing you because we’ve been told to. Nothing personal, Sir Mumphrey, honest.” “Told to? By whom?” “I don’t know his name… Some Yank blighter…” Miss Canterbury’s face darkened. “The Expediter. He was here! This absolutely smacks of his hypnotic tricks.” “Dashed cheek,” growled Mumphrey. He smashed his fist into the clerk’s gut and then gently laid him out. “Sorry about that, old bean. Good of the nation and all that.” “What do we do?” Miss Canterbury demanded. “We’re trapped in a top-secret installation surrounded by our own people that want to kill us.” “Hmph,” scowled the eccentric Englishman reaching for his Chronometer again. “Stay here please. This won’t take much time…” “Damn it, how could this happen?” demanded Brigadier George ‘Bagger’ Gallowglass, pacing his office. “We’ll be weeks piecing together the damage this Expediter bugger has caused.” “I told you the Axis were taking this Bertram thing seriously,” Mumphrey warned. “Now you see why we need to throw a spanner in the works. And fast. I assume that Expediter cad came here looking for Bookman. And he undoubtedly found out.” The Brigadier looked up sharply. “You’re right. We need to get there!” he scowled. “Find me a fast car,” answered Sir Mumphrey Wilton. In our next exciting episode:Miss Canterbury faces the future – alone. Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2004 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2004 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
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