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.
“Yes,” said Icarus. “And I recognized your voice on the cassette tape. It was you who spoke at the end and said, ‘Save your breath on him, he’s dead.’”
Icarus returned the wallet to his pocket.
“Rjght,” said he. “Let’s have a little action.”
But before Icarus has a little action, indeed a very great deal of action, let us speak a little regarding the living hero of Icarus Smith. This is best done now, rather than later, because later it would only interfere with the action. And also because it will demonstrate just how the particular endeavours of this particular hero influence the forthcoming actions of Icarus Smith.
The hero of Icarus Smith is a master criminal, wanted in several countries.
His name was, and is, a secret known to only a few, but as his best-known pseudonym is the Reverend Jim de Licious, we shall know him by this name alone.
Jim originally worked at Fudgepacker’s Emporium, a prophouse in Brentford which supplied theatrical properties to the film and TV industries, and it was there that he got the original idea for his crimes. Fudgepacker’s hired out all kinds of stuff, mostly Victoriana, but had certain items in stock that other prophouses didn’t, and amongst these was a full-sized fibreglass replica of a post box.
This used to get hired out again and again for street scenes in movies, and the thing about it was that it looked so convincing that when filming finished it inevitably got left behind on the street corner where it had been placed while the scene was being shot and the prop man would have to go back the next day and pick it up to return it to Fudgepacker’s.
And nearly every time this happened, the prop man would find that the post box was half full of letters. You see, people thought it was a real post box and it never occurred to them that it hadn’t been there the week before, so they posted their letters into it.
This gave the Reverend Jim an idea. It was a dishonest idea, but it was a good’un. The Reverend Jim took to hiring the post box himself. He told Mr Fudgepacker that he did amateur dramatics and Mr Fudgepacker let him hire the post box at a discount. The Rev would leave the post box on a likely street corner for a few days, then pick it up in a van in the early hours of the morning and help himself to the contents.
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.