Toscanini conducted the lyrical third movement, with its subtle variations of rhythm and melody, as if his baton touched the precious skin of the one he loved. Or, perhaps more prosaically, stroked the inner thigh of a lady who played the viola.
The crowd, enraptured as ever, hung upon every note.
Princess Pamela hung Mister Mate upon a hook in her pantry. ‘Changed me mind about thee bein’ Prime Minister,’ she said. ‘Lavinia,’ she called, ‘art thou ready, lass?’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm was loading the four reliquaries into her oversized reticule. Their importance upon this night had not been forgotten by her, for she alone knew what had to be done with them. They must stand in an unhallowed place as the planets drew into alignment, and she must perform the blasphemous ceremony that would usher the Lady Beast to power as the new millennium dawned. You had to attend to the details if you wanted the all to occur. And Lavinia Dharkstorrm wanted the all to occur.
She hefted the reticule over her shoulder. ‘I am ready,’ she called.
Cameron Bell did not look very ready. He studied his pocket watch once, then twice, and then again and again.
The grand main entrance to the princess’s palace had been barred to Cameron Bell upon Mars, where he had entered by the door reserved for tradesmen. A splendid drawbridge now dropped before the grand main entrance. A slightly more splendid portcullis arose. And splendid to the highest degrees were the doors that swung within to reveal the Lady Beast and the witch named Lavinia Dharkstorrm.
Princess Pamela sniffed at the air. ‘I love the smell of Man blood in the evening,’ she said. ‘Smells like victory, wouldst thou not agree?’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm nodded her head and gazed at the world beyond.
‘All nicely pink, don’t you think, lass?’ said the princess.
Pink it was, the world without. The lamp posts and the trees all pinkly stained, the burned and battered bodies, the carriages, the melted tanks, the fallen horses, all.
They strolled towards the gates of Buckingham Palace. The princess said, ‘I think I’ll ‘ave these painted pink.’
Within the concert hall, the third movement entered its final variation, interrupted by those episodes where loud fanfares for full orchestra are answered by octaves played by the first violins.
Cameron Bell’s head bobbed up and down but his eyes remained upon his pocket watch.
At the gates of Buckingham Palace, Princess Pamela paused.
‘Now is my time,’ she said.
Cameron’s eyes were focused on his pocket watch. The great detective appeared to be enchanted by the time.
However.
Had someone peeped over his shoulder, they might just have seen that the face of Mr Bell’s pocket watch displayed neither numbers nor hands. Rather there was only a mirror where the face should be. A mirror that reflected a certain image.
Through other mirrors cunningly set out someways above, Mr Bell could clearly see the palace of Princess Pamela and the Lady Beast herself in the company of her witchly associate as they paused before the gates of old Buck House.
Cameron Bell now whispered to himself, ‘I know it is not a new trick,’ he whispered, ‘and there are some who might well criticise me on the grounds of unoriginality, but then—’ And he drew from his pocket that slim brass contrivance, extended its aerial parts and positioned his thumb upon the button marked FIRE. ‘I do like a really big bang.’
And he pressed down hard on the button.
The sentry boxes to either side of Buckingham Palace’s gates had been loaded well with dynamite. Mr Bell had perhaps been overgenerous and dynamite was expensive. But. If a job is worth doing, it really, truly is worth doing well.
The twin explosions lit up much of the sky and rattled many a pane of glass in the halls of the Grand Exposition. Concert-goers felt their seats shifting under them and Toscanini wobbled on his rostrum. But the great conductor did not miss a single beat and the orchestra continued with its magic.
A great deal of debris rained down on the Jovian food hall. Though thankfully little fell into the stew.
Tongues of fire barrelled upwards in a suitably apocalyptic fashion. Turrets toppled from Princess Pamela’s palace.
Within the concert hall, Cameron Bell had his fingers very firmly crossed. His mirrored watch face caught the reflections of flames and of smoke and of rolling dust and debris.
‘That was probably Mr Bell,’ said Darwin. ‘He really loves to blow things up whenever he gets the chance.’
He and Leah peeped towards the chaos, but numerous street lamps no longer cast light and a terrible darkness shrouded the end of the Mall.
Leah gazed into the darkness, her long fingers weaving patterns in the air. Street lights closer at hand now dimmed to nothing. Darkness stalked its way along the Mall. And this no ordinary darkness of night. This was almost a liquid thing. It flowed forwards, engulfing the corpses and wreckage, smothering all that lay before it.
‘Away from here,’ cried Leah. ‘Back into the hall.’
In the concert hall, Cameron Bell adjusted his pocket watch. All was utterly black upon its mirrored face.
‘The explosion must have shifted one of the mirrors,’ he whispered. ‘But it was a fine explosion nonetheless.’ And he prepared to tuck away the watch.
But then he caught a glint of movement, a shimmer held within the mirror’s glass. Cameron Bell’s mouth opened and his eyes grew terribly wide. For from the watch the face of Lavinia Dharkstorrm glared at him with hatred.
Lavinia Dharkstorrm dusted down her gown of night-black silk. The Lady Beast did dustings at her cloak.
‘That was loud,’ said the princess. ‘And also right hot.’
‘And might have been deadly, too,’ Miss Dharkstorrm said, ‘had I not taken the precaution of protecting us with magic. One might criticise Mr Bell on the grounds of unoriginality, me thinks.’
Princess Pamela laughed. ‘What d’ye think o’ me darkness, chuck?’ she asked.
‘Very very black,’ said Lavinia Dharkstorrm.
‘So,’ said the female Antichrist, ‘no ‘arm done. Shall we away t’ ball, as t’were?’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm linked arms with her mistress.
‘Away to the ball indeed,’ said she as the two stepped into the darkness.
Toscanini flourished his baton once more and brought it down on the final note of the symphony’s third movement.
Cameron Bell moved with unease and felt his thumbs a-pricking. Something evil was coming his way and he had used the last of his dynamite.
56
t was twenty-four minutes to midnight as Arturo Toscanini raised his baton high and plunged it into the strong variations that would lead to the famous choral finale of Beethoven’s Ninth.
Cameron Bell slipped quietly away, as indeed did certain other folk.
Lord Brentford was not amongst them, however. He was conducting from his seat. And he honestly gave little thought at all as to what had become of Darwin.
Leah and the monkey butler stood in the vast and echoing Venusian Hall.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ said the ape. ‘And I am mightily afraid of magic.’
‘When the time comes,’ said Leah, ‘you will know what to do.’
‘You know what I’m goin’ t’ do wi’ this, lass?’ said Princess Pamela as she and Lavinia approached the big front door of the Grand Exposition.
‘Paint it pink?’ asked Lavinia Dharkstorrm.
‘No, I’m goin’ t’ knock it down. It ruins me view to me square.’
‘Trafalgar Square?’ asked Lavinia Dharkstorrm.
‘We’ll change t’ name,’ said the princess. ‘‘Ow’s about Dharkstorrm Square? Though with a statue of me on t’ column in middle.’
‘Naturally,’ said the witch.
‘Got reliquaries with thee?’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm pointed to the bag upon her shoulder. ‘I must perform the ceremony on unhallowed ground to bring you to your powers at t
he precise moment of midnight. We will hold this ceremony in the atrium. Those who might seek to interrupt, I will destroy without mercy.
‘Sound stuff,’ said Princess Pamela. ‘Then I shalt truly become Madam Glory. Let’s go in and make right nuisances of ourselves.’
And through the door went the horrible twosome and into the atrium.
The sounds of the Ninth’s fourth movement swelled through the entrance hall. To the centre the fountain still danced with champagne. Beyond and flanking the entrance to the auditorium, two sweeping flights of stairs led up to a balcony before the galleried seats and the door to the royal box.
Princess Pamela rooted her finger into her ear and said, ‘What is that ‘orrible music playing there?’
‘I believe it is Beethoven’s Ninth,’ said Lavinia Dharkstorrm.
‘Remind me t’ ban it once I gets t’ throne.’
‘That,’ came a voice from on high, ‘is something you will never do.’
Princess Pamela raised her eyes. ‘Do I hear a little baldy man?’ she asked.
Lavinia Dharkstorrm rubbed her palms together. ‘Your time has come, Mr Bell,’ said she. ‘Step into sight, if you will.’
A voice behind her said, ‘That would not be wise.’
Princess Pamela laughed most merrily. ‘I think, Lavinia lass, little baldy man ‘as been takin’ lessons in t’ art o’ ventriloquism.’
Mr Bell’s head popped up from behind the fountain. And then ducked down again.
‘There.’ The princess pointed.
Mr Bell waved from the balcony.
And then was gone. ‘No, there!’
Mr Bell said, ‘Hello,’ right behind them.
Princess Pamela turned to catch a fleeting glimpse of Cameron Bell.
‘I truly tire of this,’ she said. ‘Blast damn place with fire, Lavinia, please.’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm raised her hands. Invoked the terrible forces.
Cameron Bell peeped out from under a staircase.
‘Set to it, lass!’ demanded Princess Pamela. ‘Don’t ‘ave all night!’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm looked at her fingers, raised her arms once more and shouted words of terrible power.
A wisp of smoke rose up from her hands, stuttered and vanished away.
‘And what of this?’ cried the Lady Beast. ‘What of this, Lavinia?’
‘He has done something,’ said the witch, and she sniffed at the air. ‘He has—’ A scent of incense reached her nostrils. ‘He has had this hall blessed — we stand upon hallowed ground.’
Princess Pamela jumped most nimbly for a lady of her ample proportions. ‘Well, de-’allow it quickly!’ she shouted at the witch. ‘Time marches on!’
‘I cannot,’ cried Lavinia. ‘We should not have entered here.’
‘And thou shouldst have known!’ cried the princess. ‘Thee with thy powers of seein’ t’ future.’
‘He has magic of his own!’ Lavinia’s eyes glowed purple. ‘He is here and there and there, too. He has employed the Glamour.’
‘Will you please just kill ‘im?’ bawled Princess Pamela.
Cameron Bell stepped out on the balcony. He flourished his rather large ray gun. He pointed it down at the ladies.
‘How dare ye point yer oversized weapon at me,’ said Princess Pamela. ‘Twist this dog turd’s ‘ead upon ‘is shoulders, Lavinia.’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm wore a helpless expression. ‘My magic cannot flourish here,’ she said.
‘However,’ said Cameron Bell, ‘I can vouch for the efficiency of my oversized weapon. Ladies, I regret that I have no other option but to shoot the pair of you dead.’
‘No, please,’ Lavinia Dharkstorrm pleaded, adopting the voice of a helpless little girl. ‘I beg you, kind sir — do not murther a poor defenceless female.’
Cameron Bell shook his baldy head. ‘You must die,’ said he.
‘I can repent,’ said Princess Pamela, adopting the voice of a helpless little boy. ‘I might join t’ Salvation Army and ‘elp save fallen women.
Cameron Bell took aim.
‘No, please,’ wailed Lavinia Dharkstorrm, in a manner most sincere.
Cameron Bell once more shook his head, then squeezed upon the trigger.
Or would have done… had the gun not suddenly been torn from his grip. Firm hands fell upon Cameron Bell, casting him aside.
A figure loomed on the balcony.
A most dramatic figure.
‘No one kills my sister but me,’ came the voice of Lady Raygun.
Cameron Bell did flounderings on the floor.
‘Sister!’ cried the lady in the black rubber headpiece. ‘Sister, it is time for you to die.’
‘Sister, dearest sister,’ crooned Lavinia Dharkstorrm. ‘Let bygones be bygones. My magic can set you to rights.’
‘Only your death can set me to rights,’ said Lady Raygun.
Lavinia Dharkstorrm shook her head and rummaged deeply within her reticule. ‘I have a present in here for you,’ she said.
‘And I have one for you.’ Lady Raygun now flourished her weapon. It was a ray gun of a respectable size. But nothing on the scale of Cameron Bell’s.
She raised it high and said, ‘And so you die.’
But Lavinia Dharkstorrm reached a trigger first and a bolt of raw red energy tore from within her reticule, crossed the atrium at something approaching the speed of light and struck Lady Raygun full force in the brass corsetry. The lady fell backwards from the blast. Lavinia Dharkstorrm fled.
She fled in the company of Princess Pamela into the Hall of British Industry.
‘I’m not one for runnin’, chuck,’ puffed the pinky princess. ‘And I ‘ave an appointment with me sister.’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm urged her mistress onwards. ‘We must seek an unhallowed area to perform the ceremony,’ she cried. ‘Faster, mistress, faster.’
Within the atrium, Lady Raygun helped Cameron Bell to his feet. ‘I am sorry,’ she said, ‘but I must do it my way.
‘Fair lady,’ said Cameron Bell, fearfully aware that his months of planning would certainly now come to nothing. ‘I regret that your headstrong ways may be the death of us all.’
‘Not while breath remains to me.
Lady Raygun mounted the parapet of the balcony then flung herself into the air. The curious membrane swirled around her, bearing her aloft. She swept through the doorway in pursuit of her sister.
Cameron Bell picked up his oversized weapon and sighed. ‘My plans have now come all apart,’ said he.
‘Mr Bell,’ came a voice. ‘Mr Bell, if you please.’
Cameron Bell glanced down to the fountain.
Where stood Cameron Bell!
‘Ah, Jonny,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘Or is it Neville?’
‘I’m Neville,’ said another Cameron Bell, stepping out from under the stairs.
‘And we are quitting,’ said Jonny. ‘You told us this was a birthday surprise for your mother.’
Cameron Bell made a pained expression. He had indeed said some such thing.
‘You also said it would be a harmless practical joke,’ said Neville.
Norman, another Mr Bell, said, ‘You didn’t say anything about women with ray guns.’
The heads of various Cameron Bells nodded up and down.
‘I really do need your help now more than ever,’ said the detective. ‘It really is very important. I will double your wages, if needs be.’
‘No,’ said Jonny, and he shook his baldy head. ‘As founder member of both the Charles Dickens Appreciation Society and the Mr Pickwick Look-Alikesters, I wish to inform you that we have a strict policy regarding payment. You can expect our invoice in the post.’
Cameron Bell looked most downcast, for most downcast was he.
‘But perhaps you might take some of these.’ Jonny now marched up the staircase and pushed a bundle of cards into Cameron’s hand. ‘We do themed weddings in the gambling city on Jupiter,’ he said. ‘So if any of your friends might feel inclined t
o be married by Mr Pickwick—’
‘Please leave now,’ said Cameron Bell. ‘Or I will shoot you dead.’
‘Shoot someone dead,’ puffed the princess. ‘I can’t be ‘avin with all this lark. Find anybody and shoot ‘im.’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm ran on ahead, rushed through the doorway and into the Hall of Venus.
And here she became no longer Lavinia Dharkstorrm.
She became a panther, springing forward, lips drawn back, claws outstretched, terrible teeth a—gleam.
Princess Pamela reached the doorway and leaned upon the doorpost, wheezing fearfully.
‘Ah,’ said she, between such fearful wheezings, ‘we ave reached t’ safety of unhallowed ground once more.
Lavinia became Lavinia again.
She lowered the reticule to the floor and removed the reliquaries. ‘We will perform the ceremony here,’ she said. ‘Once done, and on the hour of midnight, you can do as you please to that sister of yours.’
‘And what of thee and thy sister, my petal?’
‘On unhallowed ground, she is mine to control.’
“Ope thou art right.’ Princess Pamela pointed. ‘She took thy ear’ole off last time, lass.’ Princess Pamela tittered.
‘Perhaps, if required, you might offer some assistance,’ Lavinia Dharkstorrm said.
The Lady Beast turned up her palms. ‘Behold t’ darkness lyin’ beyond,’ she said, ‘and don’t forget the rain o’ frogs and pink snow that ‘ad ‘em all covered in t’ boils.’
Lavinia Dharkstorrm sighed. ‘But you have no magic at all that you can contribute here?’
‘Thy job for t’ present.’ Princess Pamela had now caught her breath. ‘Thou dost not buy a dog then bark thyself, or so the sayin’ goes.’
The reliquaries stood upon the inlaid marble floor. Lavinia Dharkstorrm raised her arms to the heavens.
In space the planets wheeled towards alignment.