“Go ahead,” said Professor Slocombe.
“Why does a brown cow give white milk when it only eats green grass?”
“Is it just me?” asked Jim. “Or have things taken a distinct turn for the weird?”
“Would you like an octopus in your tea?” the lady in the straw hat asked Omally. “I’ve a camel outside that will go four days if you brick it.”
“Cover your faces,” cried Professor Slocombe.
“Don’t you start,” cried Jim.
“Cover your faces quickly and make a run for the door.”
“My husband once made a run for the chickens,” said the lady in the straw hat. “But then he was a Jesuit.”
“Talking of eggs,” said Celia Penn. “There was this sausage and this egg in a frying pan. And the sausage said ‘My, it’s hot in here’ and the egg said ‘Eeeek! A talking sausage.’” Celia Penn began to laugh and the lady in the straw hat began to laugh and Scoop Molloy began to laugh and Councillor Starguard began to laugh. And then they all began to cry and to shout and to hit one another.
“Mmph grmmph,” went the mayor.
“Out,” cried the Professor. “John, Jim, out, quickly.”
“What is going on?” asked John. “And who brought that horse in here?”
“Jim, help Ms Penn and hurry.” Professor Slocombe tugged at Pooley.
“I love you, Suzy,” said Jim. “Let me show you the trick with the ice cubes.”
“Hurry, Jim.” Professor Slocombe tugged again at Pooley and Pooley tugged at Celia Penn.
“Fly with me to my plantation,” he crooned. “There may be snow on the roof but there’s a beaver in the basement.”
“Hurry, Jim. Come on, John.”
“Everybody conga,” said Omally, kicking up his legs.
And pushing and shoving in a bumbling line, Jim followed John, Ms Penn followed Jim and the Professor followed all of them and thrust them through the door.
Along a corridor which had no power at all, and out into the car park.
“Sit down, stay still and take deep breaths.” Professor Slocombe forced them to the tarmac, where they sat giggling foolishly.
Binding, the scrofulous attendant, issued from his sentry box. “They can’t sit there,” he complained. “They don’t have official permits.”
“Bring water quickly,” commanded the Professor.
“I can’t go giving out water to any old Tom, Dick and Hari Krishna, it’s more than my job’s worth.”
Professor Slocombe fixed the car park attendant with a certain stare.
“I’ll bring three cups,” said Binding, hurrying off at the double. “And a glass for your good self.”
Jim Pooley was struggling to his feet. “I will fight for the woman I love,” he shouted. “Bring on your best guitarist.”
Professor Slocombe looked both ways, then felled Jim with a nifty uppercut. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “But you’ll thank me for it later.”
“Thank you,” said Jim, somewhat later. “But what exactly happened?”
“Someone drugged us, didn’t they?” Omally held his head.
Professor Slocombe nodded his. “I had Binding drive us here in the mayor’s low-rider. A charming fellow, Binding, when you get to know him.”
Pooley sat once more in the Professor’s fireside chair. Celia Penn lay unconscious upon the chaise longue. “Is she going to be all right?” Jim asked.
“She’ll be better sleeping it off” Professor Slocombe placed a hand upon the young woman’s forehead. “She’s running a bit of a temperature. I’ll have Gammon fetch an ice-pack.” He returned to his desk and rang his little bell.
“Who did this to us?” Jim rubbed his face. “And who punched me? My chin’s bruised too now.”
Professor Slocombe decanted sherry and passed a glass to Jim. “I wondered how it was that I remained unaffected. I suspect it must have been due to these.” He pointed to his leather gloves upon the desk. “I always wear them, as you know. The skin of my hands is sensitive to sunlight.”
“So we touched something?” Jim sniffed at his fingertips.
“I have scrubbed your hands. But that I think must have been it. I placed my gloves beneath the microscope and lo and behold.”
“Lo and behold what exactly?”
“A rather lethal cocktail of mescaline, peyote and amphetamines.”
“What about the councillors? The lady in the straw hat and everyone?”
“I called an ambulance, and they’ve been dealt with. No fatalities.”
“But how?”
“How was it done? Remarkably simple. The drug was mixed with furniture polish in an aerosol can and sprayed onto the council table.”
John Omally shook his aching head. “But why?” he asked.
“I would have thought that was obvious. To sabotage Brentford’s plans to hold the millennial celebrations two years early.”
“But who?” asked Jim.
“Whoever was responsible for the pulping of Mr Compton-Cummings’s book. Ms Penn will tell us more, I trust, when she awakens.”
“But how?” asked Jim.
“We did ‘But how?’, Jim.”
“No, I mean how did they act so fast? To prepare this drug and spray it on the table just before we got there. They don’t mess around, this lot, do they?”
“Binding informed me that an unmarked van entered the car park an hour before we arrived. Two ‘cleaners’ in grey suits. He couldn’t describe them, said they looked totally anonymous.”
“But fish?” asked Jim.
“Pardon me?” said the Professor.
“Nothing,” said Jim. “I don’t think the drug’s quite worn off yet.”
“Hang about,” said John. “The lady in the straw hat never touched the council table.”
“The lady in the straw hat is barking mad anyway,” said Jim.
“Oh, right. But if I can ask one more question, Professor. How did these would-be assassins know that we’d all be at the council meeting this morning?”
“I doubt that they did. They were just being thorough. There would have to have been a council meeting to discuss matters sooner or later. They were simply putting themselves ahead of the game, as it were.”
“Well, they’re messing with the wrong lads here,” said Omally, flexing his shoulders. “This is Brentford and we have right on our side. Let them try it again and see what happens.”
Gammon knocked and entered with an ice-pack on a tray. “I’m sorry to trouble you, sir,” said he. “But I think you’d better take a look outside. The military gentlemen of yesterday have returned and this time they are erecting what seem to be barricades and border posts.”
16
“People of Brentford,” came the voice through the electric loudhailer. It was a military voice. Educated. Authoritative. “People of Brentford, return to your homes, go about your businesses.”
