someone else. But who?
There was Moira Urquhart; no, not really. Danny would gladly have given his jewel to the common enemy of man, but not this story to Moira. She lacked vision. She would probably try and work cuddly animals into it, and that would clutter up its flawless symmetry. Moira worked cuddly animals into everything, even ninety-second clips for “Newsnight” about the European Monetary System. Not Moira, then.
Or there was Paul. Let Paul do it. Good old Paul. The Cirencester Group would really love that, because that way the story could break once and for all and nobody would take the slightest bit of notice. Such was Paul’s skill at grabbing the attention of the viewer that if he told you your ears were on fire you’d be so bored with the topic you wouldn’t bother putting them out. Not Paul.
Which meant it would have to be Diana; a pity but there it was. Just then, Danny noticed that Zebedee and Dougal had yielded place to the news, and there was Diana on the screen, surrounded by fallen masonry, telling the folks back home about the situation in Lebanon. Since Danny didn’t have the Beirut phone-book and had little confidence in Lebanese Directory Enquiries, that ruled her out. Not Diana either. Not, apparently, anybody.
He stood up and switched the television off. There must be something he could do, but he had no idea what it was.
“Hello, Danny,” said a voice behind him, and there was Jane, holding a cup of tea and a Viennese finger. “Would you like a cup?”
“No.” Danny said. “Look, when are we going to get out of here?”
“I don’t know,” Jane replied. “Nobody seems to have given it any thought.”
“We can’t stay here for the rest of our lives,” Danny said.
“You wouldn’t have thought so, would you?” Jane answered. “But I don’t think we’re in any position to leave without permission.”
“Permission!” Danny snapped. “Haven’t you still got that gun, then?”
“Yes,” Jane admitted, “but what does that solve? Even if I were to shoot Professor Montalban, all that would achieve would be a hole in his cardigan. Not that I think he’d try and stop us just walking out—not by force, I mean—but he did drop very strong hints that if we make nuisances of ourselves it’ll be Sergeant Pepper time, and personally I don’t want to take responsibility for that.”
“So, what’s happening?” Danny said. “I mean, we can’t just sit here. Surely someone’s planning to do something.”
Jane sipped some tea and sat down on a chaise longue. “From what I can gather,” Jane said, “we’ve really got to wait for Vanderdecker to show up. He’s the only person I can think of who’s got any sort of hold over the Professor.”
Danny frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Well,” Jane said, “first, it looks like when Montalban got off Vanderdecker’s ship all those hundreds of years ago, he left some of his notebooks behind, with all sorts of calculations and results in them that he hasn’t been able to reproduce since. I think Vanderdecker’s still got them, and that’s a start, isn’t it?”
“Possibly.”
“And then,” Jane went on, “there’s the Vanderdecker policy. If anyone ever finds out about that, then bang goes the National Lombard Bank, and with it Montalban’s research funding.”
“But that’s not really a threat,” Danny said, “given that that would achieve exactly the same result as Sergeant Pepper, which is what I imagine we’re trying to prevent. Also,” he added, “I don’t think all that much of your first angle, either.”
“You don’t?”
“Try this as a threat. “Montalban,” you say, “give up your whole research project or we won’t let you have your notes on a small part of it back.” Breathtaking. He’s got us all stuffed. Even I can’t do anything.”
Jane forbore to comment on that one. “Oh well,” she said, “never mind. Have you actually asked yourself what’s so utterly terrible about Montalban’s conspiracy, or whatever it is?”
Danny stared. “Are you serious?” he said. “It’s a
“It’s the way things have been run for the last three hundred odd years,” Jane said thoughtfully. “True, I never liked it much myself, but I don’t think the fact that it’s an organised scheme by a really quite pleasant old Spanish gentleman in Cirencester, rather than the accumulated megalomania and negligence of generations of world statesmen, makes it any the more terrible, do you? I mean, Montalban isn’t planning to overthrow democracy or annexe the Sudetenland, he’s just trying to get rid of a smell. Will it really be so awful if he succeeds?”
“But…” Danny spluttered. He knew exactly why it was so pernicious and so wrong, but he couldn’t quite find the words. “But he’s just one man, one selfish individual, and he’s controlling the lives of millions and millions of people. You can’t do that. It’s not right.”
“Oh, I see,” Jane said. “So if we have third world poverty and nuclear weapons and East—West hostility and economic depressions, but all brought about by means of the democratic process, then that’s all right, but if just one man is responsible then it’s tyranny. Sorry, I never did history at school, I don’t understand these things.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Danny said, “you entirely fail to grasp…”
“Very likely,” Jane said sweetly. “But before you found out about Montalban, you would have given your life to defend the fundamental basics of our society and our way of life against the Montalbans of this world; the status quo, you’d probably call it. And now it turns out to be all his doing, you suddenly realise it’s evil and it’s got to go. Please explain.”
Danny glared at her and drew in a deep breath. “So you’re on his side now, are you? I see.”
Jane shook her head. “I’m not on anybody’s side. You make it sound like hockey matches at school. I don’t care at all whether Montalban gets rid of his smell or not—or rather, I do; I think it must be rather awful to smell, and besides, if he finds a cure for it then Vanderdecker will be cured too, and I…well, I like him. And I also don’t want to see some sort of dreadful Wall Street Crash, and everybody jumping out of windows the length and breadth of King William Street, because that isn’t going to help anyone, now is it? Whereas—” Jane suddenly realised that she’d used the word “whereas” in conversation, and didn’t know whether to feel ashamed or proud—“whereas if everybody’s sensible and we all act like grown-ups, we can all sort things out and everyone can have what they want.”
“Can they?”
“I don’t see why not,” Jane replied. “Vanderdecker can swap the Vanderdecker Policy for the antidote to the smell and a cash lump sum, he can give the Professor his recipe back, the Professor can wind up his various businesses—he just wants to retire and keep bees when he’s finished his work, so perhaps he could put it all into some sort of gigantic trust fund for the Ethiopians or something like that. And perhaps we’ll insist that he finds a substitute for atomic power and a replacement for petrol and things—to judge by his track record, he shouldn’t have any trouble with that—and…”
“And everybody will live happily ever after?”
“Yes,” Jane said. “And why not?”
“So you fancy this Vanderdecker, do you?”
It was Jane’s turn to stare. “What did you say?”
“Well,” Danny said, “it’s obvious, isn’t it? You’re prepared to sell the whole of Western civilisation down the river for a man who’s old enough to be your great-great-great-great—…”
Jane got up and brushed crumbs of Viennese finger off her skirt. “Good morning, Mr Bennett,” she said.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask Harvey and Neville to tie you up and put you back in the cellar,” she said. “With the rat.”
“Mouse.”
“Rat,” Jane said firmly, and left.
Although she wouldn’t admit it to herself, Danny’s suggestion had made Jane very cross indeed, and she felt that she needed some fresh air. She walked out through the front door and round the back of the house, where there was a huge lawn, and sort of thing the early Edwardians used to play cricket on.
Suddenly she looked up. There was a clattering noise. A helicopter was coming down to land. Jane groaned from the soles of her feet upwards. Now what?
And then she was aware of something—very horrible and unfamiliar, but extremely faint and far away. It was a smell; a smell so pungent and horrible that even she could smell it.
