Flying Dutch полностью

“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?”

The Professor thought for a moment, remembered the crumpet, and took a dainty bite off the rim of it; there was a crunching sound, as if he was eating a clay pigeon. Then he suddenly beamed. “My dear fellow,” he said, “you are of course perfectly correct. How remarkably intelligent of you! But,” he added, “there would be a certain amount of risk. For all I know…”

“Yes, well,” Vanderdecker said. “Anyway, don’t you think we ought to be going?”

“Of course,” said the Professor. “Yes. Shall we take your helicopter or mine?”

“Whichever you prefer,” said Vanderdecker. “Look, I hate to hurry you, but…”

“Of course. I’ll just get a few things. My instruments, and perhaps a flask of coffee…”

“No coffee,” said the Flying Dutchman. “No rich tea biscuits, no drop scones, no Dundee cake. Let’s just get a move on, and then we can all have tea.” The Professor, slightly startled, hurried away.

“We’ll drop by the ship and pick up the rest of the crew,” Vanderdecker way saying. “I hope his helicopter’s big enough.”

“Just what are you going to do?” Jane demanded.

“Put the fire out,” Vanderdecker replied, “what do you think? I’m not going all that way to a blazing nuclear reactor just to roast jacket potatoes.”

“But you can’t,” Jane said.