“Oh, it’s all right,” said the foolish grinner, putting his arm around Johnny Boy’s shoulder. “I love him. I forgive him. It really got to me though, that suitcase. Gave me a real terror of cases. Suitcases, briefcases, handbags, shoulder bags, duffel bags, pormanteaus, dressing cases, pigskin valises, steamer trunks, sea chests, Gladstone bags, overnight bags …”
“You sure know your luggage,” said Johnny Boy.
“Buddy, in my business, knowing your luggage can mean the difference between …”
“Go on.”
“I don’t know. Could we stop off for some lunch, do you think? I’m getting really hungry. We could have a walk in Kew Gardens afterwards. It’s really beautiful there. Watch out for that lady with the pram.”
“Sorry,” called Icarus, out of the window.
“And there’s a long dark automobile blocking the street ahead.”
Icarus put his foot on the brake and swerved the taxi around.
The woman, who was picking up her baby from the road, fled screaming as Icarus performed a remarkable U-turn.
You can do that, you know, in a taxi. They have virtually the smallest turning circle of any wheeled vehicle; cabbies are always proud of telling people that. But then cabbies have so many things to be proud of. They’re wonderful people, are cabbies.
And of course, they never use drugs. Especially whatever weirded-out mixture it was that Icarus had found.
Icarus put his foot once more to the floor and the taxi took off at the hurry-up, through the maze of roads that was back street Brentford.
It rushed up Abbadon Street, along Moby Dick terrace, turned left into Sprite Street and right into the Ealing Road once more and passed the Flying Swan again.
“That cabbie you head-butted was quite right about his directions to the Flying Swan,” said Johnny Boy. “They do have the knowledge, those boys.”
“I love taxi drivers,” said the grinner, giving Johnny Boy a hug. “And I love you and I love my brother Icarus.”
“Nice,” said Johnny Boy, licking his snow-covered fingers.
Icarus turned left at the Mazarin Stone and they passed the football ground once more.
“After them! Faster, Faster!” Cormerant made taloned fists.
“I’m doing my best, sir,” the chauffeur said. “But it’s a bloody labyrinth round here and those taxis have virtually the smallest turning circle of any wheeled vehicle. And they are, of course, driven by highly skilled professionals who have the knowledge and never use drugs.”
Cormerant smote the chauffeur on the back of his smartly capped head. “Drive after them. Faster, you buffoon.”
“They’re going down there!” A demon pointed as the taxi came momentarily into view.
“No,” said the other demon. “There. They’re going down there.”
“No, they’re coming up there,” said the chauffeur. “No, hang about, you might be right.” The long dark automobile raked along a row of cars on the other side of Mafeking Avenue.
“I think we’ve lost them,” said Icarus. “Switch off the spectremeter.”
“Off?” said Johnny Boy.
“Yes, switch it off.”
“Oh,” said Johnny Boy. “I hadn’t got around to switching it on yet. Mind out for that wheelchair.”
“Sorry,” called Icarus, out of the window.
“I don’t think he’s ever really sorry,” said the grinner. “Our dad was in the removal business, you know.”
“I didn’t,” said Johnny Boy. “Go on.”
“Icarus used to shuffle up his delivery schedules.”
“I never did. Will you switch on the spectremeter? Please?”
“And our dad couldn’t read very well, so he used to deliver all the furniture and stuff to the wrong locations.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is.”
“Perhaps I did have this switched on all the time,” said Johnny Boy. “Is this off or on?”
“I don’t know,” said the grinner, suddenly ceasing to grin. “But I seem to have double vision. I can see two of you now.”
“And I can see two of you.”
“There!” shouted one of the demons. “They’re coming straight at us. Smash into them.”
“It’s two cabs,” said the chauffeur. “Driving side by side.”
“Well smash into both of them.”
“Get out of the way!” shouted Icarus. There was a taxi in front of him now.
“Is that us?” asked Johnny Boy, climbing up. “That looks like the back of Mr Woodbine’s head.”
“What, the Mr Woodbine?” asked the erstwhile grinner. “Lazlo Woodbine, private eye? The world famous detective? Is that really him, do you think?”
“I’m backing up,” said Icarus. “I’m going to go another way.”
“There’s a taxi coming behind us now, really fast.”
Smash went something into something.
No it didn’t.
“They went right through us,” said the chauffeur. “Like ghosts.”
Cormerant made tighter fists. “They’re using the bloody spectremeter. Just smash into every taxi you see, we’ll get the right one sooner or later.”
“Whoa!” went Johnny Boy. “We just went right through ourselves. Or rather, ourselves just went right through us. Or was it …”
“Far out,” said the grinner, grinning again. “I’m tripping out here, man. So, like I was saying. Our dad got into real trouble with the company he worked for, because he kept delivering stuff to the wrong locations. And eventually they sacked him. And then he was on the dole and we couldn’t keep up the mortgage payments on the house and we had a nice house and he had to sell it and get a tiny one instead. And it was all the fault of Icarus and I was going to tell Mum, but Icarus said he’d lock me in the suitcase if I did and never let me out.”
“He’s making this up,” said Icarus, desperately swerving to avoid an oncoming taxi which turned out to be driven by himself.
“I never told Mum, but Icarus used to have nightmares. He’d wake up screaming that he could put everything back in the right places.”
“Shut up!” shouted Icarus. “Shut up, or I’ll throw you out of the taxi. You’re no good to us like this. Pull yourself together. Be Lazlo Woodbine again.”
“You want me to be Lazlo Woodbine? How could I be Lazlo Woodbine? That was him in the other taxi, wasn’t it?”
“That was you in the other taxi.”
“Johnny Boy said it was Lazlo Woodbine. When are we going to have lunch?”
Icarus Smith glared over his shoulder. “You’ve got to help us,” he growled. “You are Woodbine. The greatest detective of them all. You tell him, Johnny Boy.”
“Stop being horrid to your brother,” said Johnny Boy.
“Oh no!” shouted Icarus. “Look out.”
Something smashed into something else.
No it didn’t.
Yes it did.
The long dark automobile ploughed head on into the taxi, mashing up its bonnet to oblivion and bringing the ‘Oh no’ing driver through the windscreen in slow motion amidst the shattering glass.
The driver crashed down onto the bonnet of the long dark automobile.
“That’s him,” shouted Cormerant. “Get out and shoot him dead.”
The demons hastened to oblige.
One took hold of the crash victim’s bloody head and twisted it around.
“Kill him!” shouted Cormerant. “I’ve suffered enough of this young man.”
The demon did as he was told.
And shot the young man dead.
18
It really was true.
About your whole life flashing right in front of your eyes at that terrible final moment. As the taxi struck the long dark automobile and Icarus Smith shouted “Oh no!” his whole life flashed before him, right in front of his eyes.