From a purely aesthetic point of view, it would be appropriate at this stage to describe the interior of the power station in which Vanderdecker, Montalban, the crew of the
“What,” Vanderdecker asked as he opened a curtain door leading to a certain room in a building, “did you have to bring that cat for?”
“Guinea-pig,” replied Montalban through the charred wisps of fabric that had once been a handkerchief held in front of his nose. The first mate frowned.
“What, to catch one, you mean?”
Montalban stopped in his tracks and turned round. “To catch one of what?” he asked.
“A guinea-pig,” replied the first mate. “Is that why you brought the cat?”
Montalban smiled. “No, no, you don’t quite seem to follow,” he said. “The cat is a guinea-pig.”
“No it’s not,” the first mate replied, “it’s a cat.”
“That’s right,” Vanderdecker said hastily, “it’s a cat, isn’t it, Montalban? Are you still wearing your reading glasses?”
“The cat,” said Montalban slowly, “is here to perform the function of a guinea-pig.”
The first mate’s frown remained as constant as the Northern Star. “You mean, running round inside a little wheel or something?”
“Yes,” replied the Professor; he was a quick learner. “If necessary.”
“I see,” said the first mate, and added, “Why?”
“Because,” explained the Professor, and reached into his pocket for another handkerchief. Unfortunately, there wasn’t one. Nor was there a pocket. There wasn’t, in fact, a fibre of cloth among the whole party; just hot but invulnerable flesh.
“Stuffy in here, isn’t it?” said Wilhelmus. “Can’t we open a window?”
“Not really,” Vanderdecker said. “A bit counterproductive, that would be. Look, isn’t it about time we started doing something, instead of just wandering about like this?”
“If you’ll just bear with me a little longer,” the Professor said, “I hope to be in a position to make a final assessment of the extent of the problem facing us.”
A large and jagged slab of masonry dislodged itself from the roof and fell heavily onto the precise spot Sebastian would have been standing on if Vanderdecker hadn’t rather unceremoniously moved him. Sebastian scowled and muttered something under his breath.
“Right, then,” said the Flying Dutchman positively. Deep inside he could feel himself starting to get angry. The last time he had been angry was many years ago, when, thanks to a series of accidents and coincidences, he had wandered into the middle of the Battle of Trafalgar just as the French were on the point of victory, and a cannonball from a French ship of the line had smashed a hole in the
“Where are you going?” Montalban asked.
“Never you mind,” Vanderdecker replied. “Just lend me that cat for a moment, will you, and then you can go away and have a nice cup of tea or something. Cornelius, Sebastian, you follow me. The rest of you stay here.”
Montalban handed over the cat, which was growling slightly, and watched helplessly as the Flying Dutchman stalked off through a door whose existence is not explicitly acknowledged. The door closed, and a moment later flew open again as the room beyond it blew up.
“Now
“Oh dear,” Montalban said. “I really don’t think he should have gone in there.”
The other members of the crew tried to peer through the cloud of smoke, flame and debris, but it was impervious to sight. They could, however, hear loud banging noises.
“Antonius, Johannes, Wilhelmus, Pieter, Dirk, Jan Christian! Over here, quick as you like!” came a thunderous command. “Cornelius, grab the cat!”
Montalban was left standing alone in the middle of a burning room. He didn’t like it much. It was unnerving, what with the falling masonry and everything, and he hadn’t had a rock cake in five hours.
“Wait for me,” he said.
♦
Jane had always hated Ceefax. It wasn’t just the way the blasted thing played “That’s Entertainment” on the electronic organ at you while listing the latest casualties in the Mexican earthquake; it wasn’t even the mule-like persistence with which it kept giving you a recipe for chicken la king when you wanted the weather forecast. It was the little numbers at the top of the screen that really made Jane want to scream. She was alone in the house, and there were no neighbours close enough to be disturbed. She screamed.
Then she pulled herself together again and pressed some buttons on the remote control. Back to the index. Yes. Fine. Stay with it. News Update—
