X and Arthur hefted Sfret exactly between them, up onto their individual right and left shoulders, respectively.

'How is it possible?' asked X. 'I mean seriously? The odds? How?'

'Stop moaning,' said Arthur.

'It landed on its SIDE!'

'Quit it!'

'Three times!'

'Just drop it.'

'Three.'

Slepp Tonnajob pushed open the doors to Phffeingstohler Swiss International Bank and walked across the floor, creating an echo to a staffed cubicle. He had discarded his regulation light blue overalls and was wearing a smart suit with blue pinstripes. He smiled a shrewd smile and slammed the large metallic box in front of the cashier. She smiled back. A not-in-the-mood-for-your-crap smile. 'Yes?'

'Hello, I'd like this package to be put away securely in a very safe place,' requested Slepp, patting the container. 'It is very expensive and any damage would... disturb it...'

Slepp, on Vandeveer's instructions, had travelled on ahead while Von Trapp and Sreka had dealt with the agents. Slepp's own interior monologue kept him company as he followed the dainty young thing down several flights of stairs and layered security measures to the safety deposit room: '198 steps, 199, 200, turn left, mounted security camera, 15-second sweep, two guards, lightly armed, two steps from the alarm trip....'

The bank clerk led Slepp to a door that reminded Sfret of his old prison cell — though the bars here were very clean and looked very solid. The woman indicated towards the battery of compact box shelves — the sort with a pleasant red colour with two key slots. 'We're placing your lot towards the back. The bank has been in operation since the late 1800s — we have many prestigious holdings. We are a renowned financial institution, Mr Tonnajob.'

'Fascinating,' grinned Slepp.

'And here we are: lot 299,768.'

With a glance over his shoulder, Slepp, quick as a hummingbird cross-bred with a kleptomaniac magpie with a prelidiction for office stationary, Slepp slapped a post-it note across the young woman's eyes, temporarily blinding her, and finished her off with an ink stamp to the forehead: "file & close". The young lady collapsed into a neat heap that Slepp tucked away out of sight from the grilled door. He knew the guards had seen them both on the way in. He couldn't stay down here forever. The others had better be on time.

'Sreka, get back in the car!' yelled Von Trapp.

'I couldn't hold it in any longer,' came the desperate whine from beyond the grass verge. The Lada had its emergency lights flashing as it had pulled over into the lay-by, while Andrei relieved himself in the long-grass.

'We're only 15 more miles to the bank. We'll get there in plenty of time,' said Von Trapp, trying to gee up some confidence. Sreka piled back into the rear seat, making the whole car shudder due to his bulk of muscle. 'The Cult will soon possess the Turquoise Moon,' smirked Von Trapp.

'I still say we need longer,' smouldered Vandeveer. 'Walking in the front door and asking nicely won't do.'

'Who says we're going in the front door?' said Von Trapp with a maniacal grin that was eerily reminiscent of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas.¹

'Oh no,' said Daltmooreby, glancing in the wing mirror.

'What?' said Vandeveer.

'Shut up, fool!' hissed Von Trapp.

'What? What is it?' said Vandeveer, craning to look in the rearview mirror.

'It's the police,' gulped Von Trapp. 'Quick everyone! Look... normal!'

'What do you mean,' Arthur said, savouring the flavour of the word in his mouth, 'locked?'

'It is most unconventional for me to be doing this,' the Swiss premier said, thumping a large bunker-style door hatch which seemingly joined to another corridor leading along. 'A bodyguard normally accompanies me.'

'Shouldn't we nearly be at the surface by now?' Arthur asked.

'The bunker is like a giant spiral of connecting ramps. Each section can be sealed off by an independent bulkhead at each end. We've been lucky so far, but it looks like this one has shorted out and closed. We'll need to locate the tripswitch and reset it.'

'In the dark?' Arthur asked disbelievingly.

'Do we have another option?' the Swiss Premier asked.

'Actually, we do,' Arthur said, smiling, though no-one could see this. He looked up to Sfret, sitting on his shoulder. 'Sfret?'

'I need to be taller,' he said.

Sfret pulled himself up so that he was standing on Arthur and X's shoulders, high enough to reach the door. Using his innate sense of technology to locate the activation switch, he flipped it. 'Got it!' he exclaimed, followed by a foreboding 'Oh, no.' His weight shifted. X felt his left foot slip and then his right.

'This is going to hurt,' he reflected accurately.

Sfret wobbled. He landed on Arthur's right shoulder, forcing him down on one knee. X wished in vain for some purchase on the tiles. Arthur fell as the pyramid collapsed. Sfret ended up performing perhaps the world's most un-dainty forward flip as he continued to tumble. He found purchase astride both of X's shoulders, driving him downward into a painful attempt at the splits.

Arthur shook himself upright. 'Everyone okay?'

'M m m m m m m m m m m m ! ' whined X in a high-pitched voice.

'Is your partner okay?' Sfret asked, dusting himself down.

'He'll survive,' Arthur winced. 'Most of him, at least. Where's the Premier?'

'I'm here,' said the Prime Minister, emerging from the shadows. 'I had an awful feeling that was about to go hideously wrong, so I hid out of harm's way.'

Stepping over his fallen comrade and fixing his tie, Arthur looked up and surveyed the hinge on the stubbornly immobile bunker. Suddenly, there was a clunk and a small rush of air whirled around Arthur's sensible shoes. It was followed by a pop, not unlike opening a stay-fresh Tupperware box, as the pre-war systems lurched into life and huge cogs hidden behind the walls dragged the doorway open. X clambered delicately to his feet.

Suddenly, from the darkness, there errupted a hideous low roar:
Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

Arthur pressed a hand firmly on the Swiss premier's chest. 'We'll handle this.'

'W-we will? Yes, we will,' stumbled X, fighting off a nasty case of numbness in his lower extremities.

'On three,' said Arthur.

'Do you mean 1, 2 and go on 3 or 1, 2 AND 3 and then we go?'

'Just get in there!' said Arthur, giving his partner a shove.

'123!' shouted X very quickly as he vanished into the inky blackness on the other side of the doorway. Arthur leapt in behind him.

The Swiss premier and Sfret listened with faces of fascination.

'Ow!'

'You're standing on my hand.'

'Sorry.'

Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

'What was that?'

'Mum!'

raaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! raaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

'Is that...?'

'I think I found the light switch!'

*click*

X was stood alone at the far side of a small room, with a spiral staircase which led up to a square of white light. They were nearer the surface that they had thought.

'Where is your partner?' asked the Swiss PM.

'I'm over here!' came Arthur's disembodied voice from behind the staircase. He emerged, dragging something behind him that was contesting his every effort but which, so far, was losing.

'It's...' said Sfret.

'It's a...' said the Premier, his mouth dropping open.

'A sheep,' said Arthur, grabign the animal by the scruff of the neck and pulling it, protesting, into the square of floor in front of the spiral staircase.

'Baaaaaaaah! Baaaaaaah!

Behind them, the sheep's bleating began thudding and booming down the corridor in a cacophanous echo. A small nod of realisation, unseen by the others, passed between X and Arthur. Suddenly, behind them, they head the sound of footsteps coming down the stairwell. Arthur spun round as a small figure in dugarees appeared in view and stopped, completely surprised to find two gentleman in finely-tailored suits at the bottom of this long-forgotten darkened shaft.

He pointed. 'Sheep,' he mumbled in fractured English.

'Hmm?' said Arthur, looking surpirised. 'Oh, is this yours? Take it, take it.' He dragged the sheep, bleating furiously, to hand to the farmer.

'My name ist Hurtzel,' he stuttered in rural Swiss.

'What did he say?' inquired Arthur.

'Dunno,' shurgged X.

'He said his name is Hertzel — I think he can show us the way out of here,' said a figure wreathed in shadow.

The farmer looked aghast. 'Mister Prime-Minister!' he said, affecting a sort of fold-cum-bow.

'He'll lead us back to the surface,' said the Swiss leader, confidently emerging into the full glare of the strip light in the ceiling.

The sheep, oblivious, began tucking into Arthur's left trouser leg. 'Hey! arg gerritioff! gerroff! shoo! look... sod it — stop biting the — arg!'

Sfret wandered into the fray. 'Perhaps this gentleman could lend us use of a mo-hooter vee-hickle.' He misspoke the unusual phrase.

'Good idea,' said X, tugging on the sheep's wooly mane, trying desperately to persuade it not to eat his partner.

'So where do we go now?' asked Sfret, with a quiet innocence.

'Up there,' said Arthur, still wrestling with the sheep. He indicated the light, small sqaure of blue sky studded with whispy clouds.

'...up?' said Sfret, his voice breaking only slightly.

The h2g2 Storytime III Archive

11.01.07 Front Page

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