Day of Vengeance (6 page)

Jack dropped the coins into the waiter’s hand and he slipped them into his pocket without making eye contact. They had made a friend for life.

“Very good of you, sir. Very good indeed. Men will say that
this
was your finest hour
.” The waiter said, putting on a gruff
upper-class
accent.

“I’m sorry?” Jack said.

“You know lads, from Mr Churchill’s speech. I know them all off by heart…” The waiter cleared his throat, stood to attention, put on a low, growling voice and announced,
“Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves, that if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say: this was their finest hour.”

He grinned. “What do you think lads – not bad, eh?”

Jack was bemused. “Er, very good.”

The waiter realised that the boys hadn’t recognised his impersonation of Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, giving part of the speech he had made the previous week. He blushed and said quickly, “So, will you need anything else?”

“Maybe something to drink… tea?”

“Certainly – and I have a few old newspapers if you need to kill some time.”

“OK.”

The waiter rifled through some old papers stacked on the sideboard.

“You know, I’m going to keep a few of these, I think. Some day one or two of these front pages might be quite valuable. This one’s from just a few days ago.”

The waiter held up the paper so they could read the headline.

Jack scanned the article.

Jack looked up at the date on the newspaper:
23rd June 1940
.

“My boy has joined the army… trust you two will be doing your bit to fight the Nazis?” the waiter said.

“Yes…” Jack faltered. “I suppose we will.”

The waiter put on his Churchill voice again, “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender…” He stopped and looked at Jack and Angus for some sort of approval, but they just stared up at him blankly. Sheepishly, he put down the newspaper and shuffled off.

Jack flicked through the newspaper, “This makes pretty depressing reading… all about the war, rationing, evacuation… take a look.”

As Angus flicked through the newspaper, Jack stared out of the window. The street was a little busier now and there were a few taxis, cars and buses moving up and down the Strand. The people in the street had no idea that, within a few weeks, their city would start to endure months of terror bombings in the Blitz, whilst a few young pilots would fight a struggle for the survival of their country in the sky above them.

“Hey – look at this…” Angus pushed the newspaper over to Jack. He was pointing at a small article under ‘Other News’. The headline read:

Jack started to read:

Jack squinted at a small, poorly rendered picture of two men underneath the article. The caption read:

Cambridge physicist – Dr Petersen and amateur scientist – Dr Pendelshape – to be consulted by War Office.

Jack did a complete double take – staring back at him from the page was Pendelshape; somehow he had survived the battle of Gravelines.

Number 32 to Northolt

“I recognise him.” The waiter paused from clearing their plates, leaned over and stabbed a chubby finger at the picture of Dr Pendelshape.

“What?” Jack said with incredulity.

“Yes. My mate who works down the road at the Savoy says he’s been staying there for weeks. Must have a bob or two. You get all the posh sorts down there and the top brass – government, military – we’re right close to Whitehall, we are.” The waiter shrugged, “He’s probably still there.”

“What – at another hotel – what did you call it?”

The waiter peered closer at the picture. “Yes. I’d swear it’s him. Yeah – the Savoy – just a bit further down the Strand, on this side. Only my mate mentioned it ’cos he tips well he does, a bit like you lads. Anything else for you, now?”

“No. But take this anyway.” Jack thrust a pound note into the waiter’s hand. “You’ve been very helpful.”

The waiter stared, dumbfounded, at the one-pound note in his hand.

“Er, thanks – very good of you. Very good indeed.”

The waiter moved off again with a spring in his step as Jack reread the newspaper article.

“We’ve hit the jackpot. Pendelshape… he’s here… in London. It’s exactly what Inchquin was talking about,” Angus said.

“Jackpot in one sense, I guess,” Jack said. “But if Pendelshape is here, well, it must mean that VIGIL has been defeated. Pendelshape wouldn’t risk it unless he knew VIGIL couldn’t stop him. It means we’re on our own. VIGIL’s last hope.”

Angus’s face fell. “You’re right. What do you think they’re trying to do?”

Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully, trying to remember what Inchquin had said. “Well, Dad told VIGIL that they were planning an intervention in 1940. And they’re here – you know – in London. So maybe it is something to do with helping the British defeat Germany early on in the war. Avoiding all the horrors of the war – it’s a typical Revisionist plan. They tried it with the First World War… now they’re trying it with the Second World War.”

“But how?”

Jack looked at the article. “According to this, it looks like Pendelshape is posing as some sort of scientist. I don’t recognise the other guy in the picture – Petersen – but maybe he is, like, a real scientist from Cambridge University or something. Maybe he has something that will be useful to the British government in their fight against the Nazis. Who knows? But I guess it’s not surprising Pendelshape’s here, bang in the middle of London. It’s the centre of government – 10 Downing Street, Parliament, Whitehall, all the government places – everyone who matters hangs out here.”

“Well, I think we need to pay our old friend Pendelshape a little visit,” Angus said.

“Yeah, I’m thinking the same. But it won’t be as easy as that.
He’s probably got other Revisionists working with him. And, well, they will know we’ve escaped. Maybe, instead of confronting him, we should spy on him… see what he’s up to, who he’s talking to… maybe then we can work out what’s happening… and then…”

“What?”

“Stop them – for good this time.”

Angus grinned. “You’re beginning to sound just like me.” He scratched his chin. “There’s just one thing we’ve forgotten.”

“What?”

“The time phone. Maybe we should ditch it?”

“I already did.”

“Are you mad? It’s our only way back.”

“I had to make a decision. If the Revisionists have taken over VIGIL HQ they will just use the next time signal to come and get us… we’ll be dead meat.”

“Where did you put it?”

“Left it on top of Nelson’s Column. Couldn’t think of anything else to do with it. At least we know where it is… and that no one will find it.”

“So long as you don’t ask me to climb up and get it.”

“Well, it might come to that. But now we’ve got another good reason to check out Pendelshape. He might be our only way out of here.”

Cautiously, they made their way east down the Strand, away from Trafalgar Square and towards the Savoy Hotel. A couple of taxis rumbled past in front of them followed by an old-fashioned, red double-decker bus. More people were on the streets now –
office and shop workers and quite a few men and women in uniform. They all carried odd-looking canvas boxes on strings.

“What’s in the boxes?” Angus asked.

“Gas masks, I think,” Jack replied. “Anyway, stop gawping and concentrate. I think the Savoy must be down here somewhere…”

“Jeez!” Suddenly, Jack stopped in his tracks and hauled Angus into a doorway. “It’s
him
!”

Sure enough, standing right in the middle of the pavement, only twenty metres ahead of them, was the unmistakable figure of Dr Pendelshape. He was looking away from them, down the street. By the way he checked his watch and tapped his foot impatiently, they guessed he was waiting for someone.

“Don’t let him see you,” Jack whispered.

“What do you reckon?” Angus said. “Shall I take him out?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “How exactly?”

Pendelshape glanced at his watch again and peered down the Strand and then back up to Trafalgar Square. Jack and Angus melted into the shop doorway, but there was nowhere to hide. As he looked up and down the street and continued tapping his foot, a large black car slid to a halt right in front of him. Its rear windows were tinted black. A swarthy, well-built man in a black coat got out of the back and then a second man got out of the passenger seat. For a moment, Pendelshape seemed to hesitate. There was an exchange of words and Pendelshape took a single step back, away from the car. The swarthy man quickly looked up and down the street, as if checking for something, and then, quite suddenly, both men grabbed Pendelshape and man-handled him into the back of the car. The whole thing took less than five seconds and Pendelshape was taken
completely by surprise. The doors of the car slammed shut and it drove off into the morning traffic as if nothing had happened. Apart from Angus and Jack, no one seemed even to have noticed that there might have been some sort of altercation.

Angus was the first to speak, “It looked like those men were arresting him.”

“Or kidnapping him,” Jack said. “Angus, the car’s getting away. I think we have to follow them… he’s our only hope.”

The car was heading for Trafalgar Square. Soon it would be out of sight and Pendelshape would be gone.

“Over there!” Jack waved Angus to a taxi that had just deposited its passenger outside the Savoy.

Jack rushed over and stuck his head in the cab, “Can you follow that big black car?”

The taxi driver looked Jack up and down suspiciously, “Well, son, I’m not sure…”

Jack pulled out a ten-pound note, “We’ve got money.”

It seemed to do the trick. The taxi driver’s face lit up, “Hop in.”

The taxi pulled off and soon they had passed through Trafalgar Square and were trailing the car, with Pendelshape aboard, towards west London.

Jack leaned forward. “We don’t want to keep too close… just follow so we don’t lose sight of it…”

Jack caught the driver’s dubious expression in the mirror.

“What are you two then… secret agents or something?”

Angus leaned forward this time. “Almost. We’re time travellers and there’s an evil time traveller in the car in front, but he’s the only one who can get us home.”

The taxi driver laughed. “Gawd… well as long as you pay me, what do I care?”

The two cars snaked their way onwards through London. Quite soon, they were in the suburbs.

“Where’s he taking us?” Angus said.

“No idea… we just need to stay on his trail.”

Suddenly, the taxi driver interrupted them. “I’m sorry about this lads, but there’s some madman on a motorbike behind us. He keeps trying to overtake…”

Jack and Angus spun round on their seats. The traffic was thinning out, and, sure enough, a motorcyclist was trailing them. He had on large goggles and a helmet – though it looked more like a skullcap. A yellow scarf billowed out behind him.

“I’m going to pull in and let him through,” the taxi driver said.

Suddenly there was a roar as the motorbike closed in on the taxi, and then, moved dangerously into the oncoming traffic to try and overtake. In seconds it was alongside the taxi.

The taxi driver was suddenly anxious. “He’s going to kill himself and us too if he’s not careful…”

“Must be one of your relations, Angus, some motorbike nut.”

Angus smiled. “Yeah, you’re probably right – probably Great Grandfather Ludwig on his way to the airport to fly his Hurricane.”

The motorbike drove on and as he passed the taxi, Jack and Angus noticed to their surprise that the motorcyclist was indeed wearing an aviator’s leather jacket over some sort of military uniform.

The motorbike veered in front of the taxi, narrowly missing it. The taxi driver twisted on the steering wheel and braked sharply.
The taxi skidded, slewing sideways. They were out of control. Suddenly, there was a loud bang as they skidded into the back of a double-decker bus that was standing at a bus stop ahead. Jack and Angus were thrown forward, but fortunately the taxi was not moving fast enough to cause them injury. In the distance, the motorcyclist had not noticed a thing. He powered on through the traffic into the distance, leaving only exhaust fumes behind him.

Angus was first to come to his senses. He clambered out of the passenger door. Jack followed. The taxi driver pulled himself free – he had been less fortunate and clutched his head where it had thumped into the windscreen. The traffic on the other side of the street had slowed to a stop and people were coming to help. Passengers were climbing off the bus and the driver and conductor were coming over to inspect the damage.

“What a mess,” Angus said.

“I can still see the car… up ahead. Pendelshape’s getting away,” said Jack. “Come on!”

“What and just leave this…?”

“
Come on
, Angus, let’s go!”

“How?”

“What about that?” Jack waved his hand towards the bus they had just avoided hitting.

“You’re not serious.”

“We haven’t got time to argue –
they’re getting away
.”

Most of the passengers were already off, but Jack helped the remainder on their way.

“Everyone off! Road closed!”

Jack waved the passengers away, while Angus jumped nimbly
into the driver’s cab and revved the engine. There was a loud mechanical grinding as he tried to engage first gear. The last passenger leaped from the platform at the rear and there was a sharp jolt as the huge machine lurched forward. The driver and inspector looked back in horror as their bus kangarooed away from the bus stop. Suddenly realising what was happening, the two men sprinted to catch up with their bus.

“Make it go faster!” Jack screamed at Angus, who was perched up in the cab ahead. The bus was crawling forward at an agonising pace.

“I’m trying, but this thing’s got a gearbox like a bowl of Mum’s porridge…”

There was another painful mechanical crunch as Angus discovered second gear and, with a belch of diesel smoke, the bus staggered its way up from ten miles an hour to a heady fifteen. The driver made a heroic leap for the pole at the rear of the bus. He caught hold, but couldn’t run fast enough to jump onto the platform. As his hand slipped down to the bottom of the pole, he clung on desperately and was dragged along the road.

“I’ll get you, you little…” the driver spat through his teeth as Jack loomed over him.

Jack looked down in alarm as the driver pulled himself forward and managed to wrap his right arm around the pole. He was going to try and climb back on.

“Sorry, sir,” Jack said, “we’re commandeering your bus in the interests of, er, national security…”

Jack didn’t like what he was about to do, but he knew he didn’t have much choice. He kicked the bus driver’s elbow hard.
The driver yelped and lost his grip, then tumbled back onto the road. Jack looked on as the man pulled himself to his feet, clenched his fists and screamed a string of expletives as the bus lumbered on.

Jack rushed to the front of the bus, where Angus wrestled with a giant steering wheel. He sported a huge grin.

“All clear back there?”

“Someone refused to pay, but he was good enough to get off…” Jack looked through the windscreen. “Can you see Pendelshape’s car?”

Angus nodded. “Yes – they’re up there… I’m just managing to keep up. No sign of that motorbike guy, though. What a lunatic!”

“Have they noticed us?”

“Don’t think so. What are we going to do – just follow them?”

“It won’t be long before the driver tips off the police or something and then we’ve had it.”

The number thirty-two rumbled on, with Angus at the wheel. The suburbs had already thinned out and now they were in open countryside.

“He’s going faster now. Where’s he taking us?”

“Well I hope we find out soon, because I think we’re in trouble.”

Jack looked down towards the rear of the bus. Behind them he could see a police car, its bell ringing out over the sound of the engine.

“Police.”

“We can’t stop – we’ll lose Pendelshape. Hold on, he’s turning in… there.”

Jack looked out of the side window of the bus.