“That explains it,” he said. “That dratted animal has pressed all the wrong buttons.” Montalban typed frantically for a moment, but the needle on the Fabergé egg continued to rise and “The Blue Danube” was getting faster and faster. “It’s switched off most of the failsafe mechanisms,” Montalban explained crossly. “You
“So that’s it, is it?” Vanderdecker asked. “There really is nothing we can do?”
“We could leave,” the professor suggested, “before the entire complex blows up, with a force approximately nine hundred times that of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs put together. I think in the circumstances that leaving would be extremely prudent.”
“Fine,” Vanderdecker said. “You just shove off, then. I think I’ll stay here for a bit.” He kicked the table.
“Well, goodbye then,” Montalban said, “it was so nice to have seen you again. Do drop in if ever you happen to be passing.”
The Fabergé egg had stopped playing “The Blue Danube” and struck up “The Minute Waltz”. Montalban dropped it, screamed, and fled.
“Here, Captain,” said Sebastian. Vanderdecker turned round and looked at him. He was standing by a small door like a safe-deposit box with a lurid black and red skull and crossbones stencilled on it. “Pirates?” he suggested.
“Very possibly, Sebastian,” said the Flying Dutchman, “very possibly.”
“Good,” Sebastian said. “I always loved pirates,” then he opened the door and walked in. There was a searing flash of blue light, and the world was blotted out.
♦
Half an hour later, Sebastian got up. He looked around, pinched himself, and swore.
“All right then,” he said to the sky, which was visible through a large hole in the ceiling. “I give up. Forget it. You win.”
He realised he was still holding the handle of the door. The rest of the door was nowhere to be seen. Then he noticed something else. He sniffed.
“Hello,” said the voice from under the fallen lump of ceiling. “Is anybody there?”
“Is that you captain?”
“Yes. Sebastian?”
“Captain,” Sebastian said, and his voice was rather shaky, “I don’t think I smell any more. Do you think I smell, skip?”
“I don’t know, Sebastian. I’m not sure. Perhaps if you got this slab of concrete off me, I might be able to give you a considered opinion.”
Sebastian thought for a moment, and then went to get the others. This took time, as some of them were similarly covered in architecture, but eventually they were all assembled and together they heaved Vanderdecker out from under the slab.
“Thanks,” he said, brushing dust off himself. “You’re right, Sebastian, you don’t. Has anyone seen my egg?”
“Which egg?”
“The shiny Stone egg that plays tunes, Antonius.”
“Oh,” said the first mate, “that egg. Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Vanderdecker looked at it for a moment. “Well,” he said, “fancy that. Maybe it’s just broken.” He shook it vigorously. The needle stayed resolutely on Normal.
“In fact,” Vanderdecker said, “none of us do.”
“Do what, skip?”
“Smell, Antonius. The smell would seem to have disappeared. Isn’t that jolly?”
There was a ripple of whispering, and the crew of the
All except Antonius, the first mate. He would have cheered, but something was puzzling him. As always, when he was puzzled he consulted his captain.
“Skipper,” he said, “why don’t we smell anymore?”
“That,” Vanderdecker replied, “is the thousand moidore question. Why indeed? I can only imagine…”
“Yes?” Antonius said, his eyes alight with anticipation. Vanderdecker didn’t reply. He was frowning too.
“Well anyway,” he said. “I owe you a pint.”
“Why, skipper?”
“I promised I’d buy you a…”
“No,” said Antonius, “not that. Why have we stopped smelling?”
“I don’t know,” Vanderdecker confessed. “I really don’t. Nor do I know why the power station has stopped burning and the radioactivity has dropped down to its normal ambient level. I’d ask the professor, only he isn’t here. It’s a real mystery, if you ask me.”
“Oh.” Antonius’s face had caved in. “You
Vanderdecker suddenly felt terribly guilty. “Of course,” he said. “I’m only guessing, but purely off the top of my head it would just be that we took the full black of the explosion when Sebastian inadvertently opened some sort of pressure lock and triggered off the nuclear reaction, and that all the radiation crashing into our systems carried out some sort of molecular change that counteracted the molecular change that took place when we drank the elixir in the first place. Meanwhile, the sheer force of the explosion, which must have used up all the available oxygen inside the place, just snuffed out the flames and furthermore triggered off some sort of chain reaction which somehow or other reprocesses away all the loose radiation which had escaped previously. And here we all are. Do you see what I’m getting at?”
“No,” said Antonius happily. “But if that’s what you say happened, that’s good enough for me and the lads. Isn’t it, lads?”
