Flying Dutch

The helicopter hovered for a moment over the immaculate turf and flopped down like a tired seagull. Out of it jumped a man in a gas mask. He was running for all he was worth, but another man—Sebastian, the suicidal maniac—was after him, caught up with him and brought him to the ground with a low tackle. The man in the gas mask seemed to give up and tried to bury his head under his body.

Then someone else jumped out of the helicopter; and Jane, who was able to ignore the smell, ran to meet him.

“Hello,” she said, “what on earth are you doing here?”

Vanderdecker was looking surprised. “Did you just kiss me?” he said, as if a nun had stopped him in the street and sprayed whipped cream in his ear from one of those aerosol cans.

“Yes,” Jane said. “You need a bath, mister.”

“This is very forward of you,” Vanderdecker said. “Usually I never kiss people I haven’t known for at least three hundred and fifty years.”

“We’ll go into all that later,” Jane said, feeling suddenly foolish. “Look, what are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“There’s trouble,” Vanderdecker said.

“Yes,” Jane said, “but…”

“No,” said the Flying Dutchman, “a different sort of trouble. Where’s Montalban?”

“In there,” Jane said, pointing to the house. “Where did you get the helicopter from?”

“Well,” Vanderdecker said, “there was this destroyer, and when we sailed up alongside, all the crew ran to the side and jumped off into the water. Luckily we managed to fish out one of the helicopter pilots and intimidate him into bringing us here. Have you ever been in one of those things? They’re awful. Like being inside a Kenwood mixer.”

“What did you do to him?”

“Well,” Vanderdecker said, “Sebastian threatened him.”

“With a gun?”

“No,” said Vanderdecker, “with a sock.”

“A sock?”

“Yes,” said Vanderdecker. “One of the socks he was wearing. Threatened to take it off and put it inside the fellow’s gas mask. After that he was extremely co-operative. Look, I’ve got to see Montalban.”

“But how did you know where to come?” Jane demanded.

“Simple,” said Vanderdecker, “I phoned Directory Enquiries. Isn’t that what you did?”

“I think he’s in his study,” Jane said. “Follow me.”

THIRTEEN

Oh,” Montalban said. “Oh, that is most unfortunate. Would you care for some more tea?”

“Not just now, thanks,” said the Flying Dutchman. “Have you got official notice yet?”

“Let me see.” The Professor stood up and walked over to an elegant Jacobean chair in the corner of the room. He pressed a knob on the carved side, and a telex printer appeared through the seat.

“Ah yes,” said the Professor. “It’s just come through this minute. You were right. Dear me, this is most regrettable.”

“Regrettable!” Jane said. “Isn’t that putting it rather mildly? I mean, the Dounreay nuclear power station is about to blow up and take half of Northern Europe with it, and you say…”

“Extremely regrettable, yes,” said the Professor. “Unfortunately, the telex doesn’t give details. Perhaps I should telephone somebody.”

“Good idea,” said Vanderdecker. “You go and do that.” The Professor wandered away, and Jane turned to Vanderdecker. Her face was white.

“It was lucky we were there,” Vanderdecker said. “We were just sailing along the Bristol Channel, minding our own business, when we happened to bump into the Erdkrieger again—you remember, that nuclear protest ship I told you about, with all those terribly earnest young people on it. They’d just come from Dounreay, and they were seriously worried. They’d seen this sort of glow on the water, and they didn’t like it one little bit. They’d tried to radio in to warn everyone, but of course nobody believes a word they say on that particular subject. So I asked them exactly what they’d seen, and when they explained I guessed that there’d been some awful accident. And then we saw the destroyer, which was following the Erdkrieger, and the rest you know.”

“But…” Jane started to say. “Sorry?”

“I mean,” Jane said, “no offence, but what can you do?”

Vanderdecker raised an eyebrow. “I would have thought that was obvious,” he said. “After all, we are the only people in the world who can do anything—that’s if anything can be done, that is. But the Professor can tell us that.”

“You mean because you can’t be killed?”

“Exactly,” Vanderdecker said. “Everything always comes in handy sometime, as my grandmother used to say when she stored away little bits of string, and in our case, it’s invulnerability. Well, so far as we know we’re invulnerable, but I don’t remember the elixir coming with label saying “Invulnerability or your money back; this does not affect your statutory rights.” Remains to be seen, really, now doesn’t it? That’s why I brought Sebastian with me.”

“But you mustn’t,” Jane burst out. “Not if it’s dangerous.”

Vanderdecker stared at her, and then began to laugh. He laughed for a very long time, although he seemed to realise that it wasn’t going down well with Jane; he couldn’t seem to help it. He was still laughing when the Professor came back in.

“Most regrettable,” said Montalban gravely. “I blame myself, of course.”

Jane scowled at him. “You mean it’s your fault?” she snapped.

“I suppose so,” said the Professor. “If I had never developed nuclear fission, this could never have happened. Ah well.”

“What’s happening?” Vanderdecker asked. “Was I right?”

“Absolutely,” said the Professor. “You were entirely correct in your diagnosis. I never knew you were a scientist.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Vanderdecker replied. “And you never wrote. But what are they doing?”

“They’ve evacuated the area,” said the Professor, “and they’re clearing the north of Scotland. But I don’t think there will be time. And ideally, one would prefer to evacuate Europe, if one wanted to be on the safe side.”

“Would one really?” said Jane. “How regrettable!”

“You shut up,” said Vanderdecker, “you aren’t helping. Look, Montalban, is there still time to do anything? Has the situation become critical?”

“I’m afraid so,” said the Professor. In his hand, entirely forgotten, was a stone cold crumpet. He had been carrying it about with him for at least twenty minutes, and the once-molten butter had solidified into a translucent yellow film.

“Although in theory the fire in the main chamber could still be controlled, no human being could survive in there for more than five minutes, even with protective clothing. You see, my latest modifications…”

“But the fire could still be put out?” Vanderdecker said. “How?”

“Indeed,” said the Professor, “how? No fire-fighting equipment could be taken in there; it would simply melt.”

Vanderdecker smiled. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Very probably,” said the Professor. “What?”

“I’ll give you three guesses,” Vanderdecker replied. “What’s the one thing in the whole world that cannot be destroyed?”