“Go on then,” says I.
“Well,” the fat boy scratched at his gut again, “I don’t think you’ll find that it has to be a dame that does you wrong who bops you on the head. It could be anyone.”
“Anyone?”
“It could even be me.”
“You? You would bop me over the head? But why would you want to bop me over the head?”
“Like I say, we might come to some arrangement. Lend us your ear and I’ll whisper.”
I lent Fangio my ear and he whispered. “That’s outrageous,” I exasperated, once his whispering was done.
“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
I sighed deeply. “I’ll take it,” says I.
“Look out behind you,” cried Fangio.
I turned and then something hit me from behind.
And I was falling.
Tumbling down.
Down. Down.
Deeper and down.
Into a deep dark whirling pit of oblivion.
Yes siree.
By golly.
4
If Icarus Smith had been sitting on the other side of the Station Hotel’s scarlet bar and diner, the side that faced to the lower end of the high street, he would have seen Mr Cormerant leaving Fangio’s bar, after his meeting with Lazlo Woodbine.
He would have seen Mr Cormerant muttering to himself and dabbing at his nose with an oversized red gingham handkerchief. He would have seen Mr Cormerant stumbling across the street, narrowly avoiding death beneath the wheels of a speeding Ford Fiesta.
And finally he would have seen Mr Cormerant struggling into the back of one of those sinister long dark automobiles with the blacked out windows, which are positively de rigueur with the upmarket criminal fraternity, to be ferried back to the Ministry of Serendipity.
But as Icarus was sitting on the other side of the bar, he saw none of those things.
Had he seen them, and indeed had he been able to follow Mr Cormerant back to the Ministry and stick his ear close to the door of a top secret chamber, he would have heard Mr Cormerant get another sound telling off for losing the briefcase, before being complimented for his good sense in employing the world’s greatest private eye to search for it. He would then have heard Mr Cormerant being informed that certain agencies had already been despatched, to seek out the petty criminal who had apparently lifted the case from Stravino’s and see to it that he came to a most unpleasant but suitably spectacular end. But Icarus did not hear any of these things. Which may, or may not, have been for the best.
With a trembly hand, Icarus Smith removed the cassette tape from the Dictaphone. Having managed, with some difficulty, to slide it into the top pocket of his jacket, he snatched up the Dictaphone, flung it back into the briefcase, closed and locked the lid. And then sat at his table, quivering somewhat and staring into space.
Now Icarus knew the scenario, every moviegoer did. It had been used again and again on the big screen in crime thrillers and science fiction thrillers and even science fantasy thrillers, in fact in pretty much every kind of thriller that there ever was. It was simple and succinct, and this is how it went.
Petty criminal steals something really important without realizing that it is. Case of drugs, or money belonging to gang-lord, advanced military microchip, mega-dangerous virus, Ford Fiesta with alien corpse in the boot. Tick where applicable.
Then, early on in the plot, the petty criminal comes to a most unpleasant but suitably spectacular end, before the hero, in the shape of the detective, arrives on the scene in search of the stolen something.
It was hardly an original scenario, but it had been tried and tested and found to work very well indeed.
Icarus recalled the movie version of Death Wears a Blue Sombrero[5] in which small time crook Andy Challis, played by Tom Hanks, steals a patent leather clutch bag from a prostitute played by Meg Ryan. The bag contains a doorway to another dimension and poor old Tom gets sucked through it into oblivion, several scenes before the hero, in the shape of Laz, played on this occasion most unconvincingly by Leonardo di Caprio,[6] arrives to solve the case.
The small time crook always came to a hideous end. It was a great Hollywood tradition. Hollywood knew its own business best and who was Icarus to argue?
“I’m in serious trouble here,” mumbled Icarus Smith. “Although …”
Although?
“Although.” Icarus began to smile.
To smile?
“Just let me think about this.”
Icarus gave the matter some thought. Some deep and serious thought. Surely, he thought, in a deep and serious manner, this can be no accident. Surely, this tape did not fall into my hand through mere chance alone. The nature of my game is instinctiveness. To become aware of something and then to relocate it. If I have acquired this cassette tape, then there must be some reason why. And think about it, just think about what’s on this tape. A man is being tortured and he dies because of something he has discovered. A drug, created from a formula given to him by a pattern of flowers. A drug designed to create the human computer, which instead opened the man’s eyes and allowed him to see something incredible. Something terrifying.
“To see things as they really are. And people as they really are. The ones who actually are people. And the ones who aren’t.”
This was big. This was very big. This had to be a part of the Big Picture.
And what else had the dying man said to his tormentor?
“You’ll never find the drug. But someone will and that someone will learn the truth and they’ll put paid to you and your kind. That someone will change the world for ever. That someone will make things right.”
“That someone is me,” whispered Icarus Smith. “I must find this drug and I must take it and then I will be the one to change the world.”
It had to be so. Well, to Icarus it did. To Icarus this could not be one of Stravino’s “caprices of fate”. To Icarus, it was a case of “I am the Chosen One”. And, as history has proved most conclusively, it can be a difficult matter arguing with a man who believes that he is the Chosen One.
“There can be no doubt,” whispered Icarus Smith. “The tape was meant to fall into my possession. It is my destiny to change the world for ever.”
And so with all this thought and said, Icarus set to reopening the briefcase. His hands shook only slightly now, and this from excitement rather than fear. Icarus rubbed these hands together and then began to rifle through the contents of the case.
Disregarding the leather briefs, the packed lunch and the Dictaphone, he addressed his attention to a wad of papers and a notebook bound in a curious hide.
Firstly the papers. Icarus leafed through these. They bore the letter heading of the Ministry of Serendipity, and appeared to be interdepartmental memos, concerning the staff canteen and the poor selection of food on offer.
“Hence the packed lunch,” said Icarus Smith.
The notebook, however, was of considerable interest. There were two stains on its front cover. The first appeared to be marmalade but the second looked like blood. Icarus opened the book and then went ah.
“Addresses,” said Icarus Smith.
On the flyleaf of the book were printed the words:
This book is the property of
Prof. Bruce Partington
Wisteria Lodge
Shoscombe Old Place
Brentford.
“Aha,” said Icarus. “No doubt the tortured soul himself. But let’s just check.” He dug into a jacket pocket and brought to light the relocated wallet. Flipping this open, he observed a Ministry of Serendipity security card made out to one Arkus Cormerant. The photo displayed the face of the chap in Stravino’s. The erstwhile “owner” of the briefcase.
6
Opinions are divided regarding which actor gave the best portrayal of Laz in a Hollywood movie. Robert Mitchum, Brian Donleavy and Rondo Hatton are up there in the top three.