H2G2 Storytime III: From Prussia with Love. Part LXII
Created | Updated Oct 6, 2007
Annabel waited for the applause to die down. In earnest it continued: the entire society of cult members were beating the floor in rapturous applause.
She held aloft her hands to signal quiet, he robes fluttered to her sides and within time, the noise died down.
Speaking into the microphone pinned to her lapel, the machines amplified her voice and sent it cacophoning around the rocky walls. She made a simple prediction: "The Above world will flood, the spent sinners of civilisation will drown and the Cult will inherit the Earth!"
The crowd roared once more. Louder this time. If that were possible.
'This is too easy...' she thought.
She would shortly be proven right.
Grampling brought the monorail carriage to a sedate stop against the buffers and disembarked. The station was unlit and very dark - he would have to make the area ready for the guests.
"Just make sure it's secure" Grampling murmured bitterly as he stalked over to a control panel.
"Sub-station digamma! sub-station digamma! The bloody cheek! The biggest party in years and he sends me so far away from the action it might as well not be happening at all! What am I? - Just a dogsbody that's what. A worthless - "
"I wouldn't complain if I were you!" Ody announced suddenly trying to affect a voice that was gravelly and threatening.
"Eeek!" Grampling squealed, as Ody gripped him on the shoulder.
"We...", Ody glanced back at Jamila for inspiration, and pressing the butt of his whip into the back of Grampling's exposed neck as a make-shift muzzle of a gun he pressed on "are dangerous...terrorists, we've escaped from the dungeons and we're looking for a way out."
"There!" Grampling yelped, pointing furiously to his right at a dark space bordered by arches and columns, "over there"
"Where?" Ody asked quizzically, then remembering to stay in character, barked, "Where?!"
"I..er...er.." Grampling stabbed at a few buttons on the control panel and pulled a lever. "um... - there!" he announced triumphantly. A few lights thudded on, illuminating a platform and parked in the sidings, a train, silent and dark.
Ody looked to his right; taking advantage of the distraction Grampling spun around to face his attackers and found himself staring at the dishevelled couple and Turk's head knot at the base of the whip-butt.
"Your not dangerous terrorists!" he exclaimed.
"No, but there's still two of us!" Jamila said advancing on the stricken figure, unfolding her arms.
Ody lowered the butt of his whip took a step back.
Grampling neatened the material of his tunic and said..."I...I can still help you...I want to help. Take me with you."
"Being a member of a cult not all it's cracked up to be? Sick of being told what to do all the time?" Ody chided.
"Penguin only diet getting you down?" Jamila asked sarcastically.
"I...I just want to go home."
"Just what we were thinking." Jamila replied.
"We were also thinking a distraction would be a good idea - we're not the only ones escaping; our friends need us" she added.
"We could always override the intercom system - you know - hijack it. It's an old network, disused, but it's connected to all parts of the base. It was always producing this awful feedback that the engineers couldn't eliminate so the old grand master had it deactivated but I think I can access it from here."
Ody and Jamila looked at each other.
"Yes I think that will do nicely." She said.
There was a covered walkway that led into the airlock of the shuttle, once they proceeded down there, only the shuttle and the final part of the cult's century long plan awaited.
Sean Daltmooreby and Andrei Sreka were led by their guide and pilot Sebastain Grobsvaughn in silent formation through corridor after corridor, closer and closer, approaching the walkway that would take them all on board.
The image flickered as the technician in the control room, watching their progress on a battery of monitors watched their arrival via a series of mounted cameras.
He pressed a button on his head set.
Out on the stage, his voice was broadcast into the ear of the Grand Master: " The cosmonauts on approach."
Annabel smiled a slim smile and her words were carried out to the expectant crowds: "In the next few moments, the cosmonauts will board the shuttle and the countdown to lift-off will commence!"
Back in the control room, the technician by the monitors twirled a pencil in his fingers, it slid between his knuckles and rattled on the table top, rolled and dropped off the edge.
Damn! The technician bent down to pick it up, and completely missed seeing two figures in dark suits following the cosmonauts in an adjacent monitor.
Sitting back up again he scanned the empty screens again. Touching the earpiece again, he spoke. All clear. Repeat. All clear."
Daltmooreby, Sreka and Grobsvaugh reached the terminus corridor and stood ahead of the walkway that led to the shuttle airlock. Although the area was relatively pristine, the construction was haphazard, in the roof, pipes snaked this way and that way, vents occasionally let go a blast of steam. It gave the place an energetic feel, like one might imagine the gates of hades would feel: alive with heat. Below them of course was the rocket itself. The floor here turned from solid tiles to a metal grill - the gantry of the rocket tower itself.
"The spacesuits are inside the airlock," Grobsvaughn instructed them, "change into them once we are inside and then, once we are fully prepared, we strap ourselves in and await lift-off. Do you have the diamond, Mister Daltmooreby?
"Indeed I do." Daltmooreby preened and reached to the satchel to show him.
Grobsvaughn waved him off. "I have faith that The Pilchard has brought us a true and holy servant. I believe you have kept your word for and by the cult. By your actions will our nation flourish."
"How refreshing," Daltmooreby said genially, glancing up at Sreka, "to have one's faith placed in one so uncritically. Betrayal, sadly, is far to common in ventures like this."
Sreka snarled, "You forget your place. I work for the Grand Master now."
"It's still a leash, and you're tethered, like a dog."
"Gentlemen please!" Grobsvaughn pleaded as Daltmooreby and Sreka squared off.
"She sent me - you were an afterthought."
Sreka glanced over one shoulder as though Daltmooreby's barbed comment was a slap across the jaw. Satisfied he couldn't be seen from any camera connected to the control room Sreka suddenly grabbed Daltmooreby by the throat and pinned him to the wall. Leaning in close he whispered: "Not another word."
"Touched a nerve did I?" Daltmooreby croaked, straining against the Russian's grip. "You've traded Vandeerveer for Annabell, Andrei - when are you going to see that?
Sreka dropped Daltmooreby who sat awkwardly on the floor, tugging at his collar for air.
Disgusted at all this machismo in the air, Grobsvaughn stalked off toward the ladder that led to airlock, calling back, "I will be inside - when you are both quite finished!"
Daltmooreby watched him go, "and now that we are alone."
"You were using me!" Sreka reacted angrily.
"As a decoy, yes."
"What I have to say to you - I want no-one else to know."
Sean glanced about theatrically, to check they weren't being listened to.
"What, what is it." Sreka said approaching.
"It's about the diamond." Daltmooreby whispered barely audible.
Sreka lowered his head to listen.
Daltmooreby was fast: his hand came round in an arc and chopped the Russian on the back of the neck; grabbing the Russian's head in an arm-lock, Daltmooreby heaved backwards and Sreka's skull collided with the wall. Daltmooreby released him and Sreka rolled backwards, arms splayed outwards and his head thudded on the metal grating of the walkway, unconscious.
"I'm stealing it." Daltmooreby said, grinning.
Daltmooreby entered the airlock of the shuttle. This was a risky strategy. Betraying the cult. If Sreka woke up before they lifted off, his deception would be revealed. Nothing else for it. Run until caught. And then fight dirty.
He lay the satchel containing the diamond he stole from the dig in Egypt onto the floor and began to clamber into the space suit. Everything had been thought out. On a shelf there was a silver suitcase, he popped the clasps and lifted the lid. Inside there was some dark grey packing foam with a space big enough to hold the diamond.
He took the turquoise moon out of the canvas satchel, disposed of the linseed cloth and placed it reverentially in the case. Taking one last look at it, he patted it affectionately and closed the lid with a snap.
Looking back out through the clear doors, Daltmooreby looked at the prostrate figure of Sreka. He smiled a winsome smile. He couldn't lock the doors from inside but he could trigger the automatic sequence to seal them shut early. He produced a small black device with a short snub of an interface. Peeling back the light material covering the control panel he located the access point and pressed in the machine. A red light flicked on indicating the device was active. On one face a series of ceramic dials with Roman numerals were displayed. He set it to CCC and depressed the button, to initiate the countdown. The ceramic dials started to revolve. He replaced the cover. By the time they found out what he'd done it would be too late.
He turned and headed up the ladder into the control room, where Grobsvaughn awaited.
"Did you two settle your differences?" he asked cooly.
"Oh yes." We butted heads a little but it's all behind us now." Daltmooreby smiled breezily.
"When will The Russian be joining us?"
"Eventually." Daltmooreby answered curtly. "His ego got a bit bruised."
Grobsvaughn sniffed disdainfully.
Had the probing questions continued he might have had to do something about it, but Grobsvaughn busied himself haughtily with last minute pre-flight checks.
Daltmooreby took his seat and waited.
A short time later Sreka came to. His eyesight was blurred and his forehead felt like he'd cracked his skull open. "Urrgh!" he complained rolling over onto his front. Pressing himself up on his hands he staggered upright, collided with the wall and slid down, delirious.
Clawing himself up again. He stared and blinked trying to clear his sight. Slowly the blobs of light and dark focussed into the shape of the walkway. And then memory of what happened returned, his fury bubbled up inside and adrenaline pulsed through synapses.
The thought of what Annabel would do to him when she discovered he'd been compromised again - he couldn't bear to think about it. Worse, the realisation that on one level it seemed the spy had had a point sickened the Russian. The spy! He'd have to pay! It was him who did this. Enraged at Daltmooreby's's treachery, he cried out, "Curse you filthy Englishman!!!"
Behind him, a gush of steam from a vent was swept aside and Arthur emerged from out of it, it was about a dramatic an entrence as was possible given the circumstances. With a grim scowl he said, "I heard that."
Distracted, Sreka, stepped away from the wall and blocked the agent's progress towards the shuttle. "Sakre kolyama! - You're worse that the cockroaches we used to get in Moscow soup kitchens! What will it take for you to just give up and die?" Sreka spat.
"More than you've got." Arthur replied sternly.
"All alone again just you and I - how very...familiar" Sreka jeered.
Through the steam , X appears to Arthur's right. "I'm here Arthur"
Arthur turned to his partner. "Now you're in trouble." He said turning back to Sreka and smiling "It's a numbers game. My partner's with me and you've got nowhere to run.
"Who says I'm running?" Sreka said cracking his knuckles and limbering up his wrists.
"Sreka, don't try it - my offer has now officially expired!"
This caught the big Russian off guard and he thought back for a moment...then said, "Back in Cairo? On the rooftop?"1
"I'm flattered you remember."
Sreka remembered the bombs in the Egyptian market, the triple-cross and the fact he'd been bluffing then - and bluffing now. Stepping forward and holding onto the wall so as not to fall. He'd try bravado once more.
"As I recall, the last time you set me an ultimatum I executed your lady friend - like this: "click". He smiled and mimed pointing the shotgun at a basket in front of him.
"Yeah", Arthur said, head down turned, "about that..." - in a swift motion Arthur raises the large, steel, spanner he'd taken from the workstation, up over his head and brought it down hard on Sreka's arm, fracturing the wrist.
Sreka screamed and fell to his knees.
Arthur swung the heavy spanner around and caught Sreka across the jaw on the up-swing.
"Urh!"
Arthur raises it for another strike, Sreka raises his other arm grabbed Arthur by the lapels and pulls him in hard for a head butt.
Arthur dropped the spanner, and staggered backward. The spanner slipped through a gap in the grid of the gantry and fell into the void that fell away underneath the rocket. X caught his partner as he reeled backwards and the two squared off against Sreka.
Sreka's felt his arm tingle: a spot of agony like cold, numbing fire was racing up and down his forearm. Rolling his tongue about his swollen mouth he spat out a clot of blood. Facing the two agents he towered over both. "Okay - I break my arm and there's two of you. Now we fight fair..."
