The Toyminator (24 page)

“And when there isn’t?” Eddie asked.

“Then the chickens will continue onwards.”

“Well, bravo to the chickens,” said Eddie Bear.

“What?” said Eddie’s other self.

“I said, bravo. What else can I say? I suppose that whoever is at the top of, how shall
I
put this, the ‘food chain’ wins the race for survival. And why would I expect chickens to respect my kind? Men do not respect my kind. The men of Toy City, the P.P.P.s, have no respect for toys. Bravo the chickens, I say.”

“You are taking this very well, considering.”

“Considering
what
? That I am soon to die? I’m resigned to it now, I suppose. How long do I have, by the way?”

“A few hours, perhaps.”

“I thought so,” said Eddie. “I’ve been growing weirder ever since I got here. I’m not inside myself for much of the time. But then what can I say? I’ve had a good life, really, a long life, and I’ve done interesting things. Dying won’t be so bad. I suppose.”

“I find that really quite moving,” said Eddie’s other self.

“It comes to us all,” said Eddie. “It will come to you too, eventually.”

Eddie’s other self gave Eddie Bear another shoulder pat.

“Could I have a bit of a hug?” asked Eddie.

“Yes, indeed you can.” And Eddie’s other self gave a big hug to Eddie.

“And could I ask you just one little favour?”

“Go on then, just ask.”

“Well,” said Eddie, “I know that Jack shot down one of the chickens’ flying saucers. But I personally didn’t have any part in that, so I was wondering, do you think I could meet to one of the chickens before I die? Just to say hello, just to try to understand. The King of all the chickens, perhaps.”

“It’s the Queen, actually.”

“Then do you think I could meet her, perhaps? Is she here, in this complex?”

The other Eddie grinned from ear to furry ear.

“She
is
,” said Eddie. “She
is
here, isn’t she?”

The other Eddie nodded his grinning head. “Oh yes she is,” he said.

“And do you think she might grant me an audience?”

“Well, she
might
. But I’m not quite certain why she would. You see, she’s a little busy at the moment.”

“I wouldn’t take up much of her time,” said Eddie. “Because I don’t have much time, do I?”

“No, that’s true. But she
is
very busy, coordinating the final phase of the Toy City project.”

“The final phase?” asked Eddie.

“Tonight – well, within the hour – the task force will fly from here, through The Second Big O of the Hollywood sign, into your world and gather up the remaining denizens of Toy City. To be franchised.”

“All of them?” said Eddie.

“So you see, she
is
rather busy.”

“Well, it was just a thought.”

The other Eddie looked hard at Eddie Bear. “You really
are
taking this
very
well,” he said.

And Eddie Bear shrugged.

And then a sound was to be heard. A terrible sound, as of sirens.

“What was
that
?” asked Eddie.

“A breach of security.”

“Jack?”

“
Not
Jack. I will have to take us aloft.”

“Do what you have to,” said Eddie.

And through some means that Eddie did not understand, but which evidently involved the application of advanced chicken technology, Eddie’s other self took the flying disc aloft and soon they were back in the chicken-poo-splattered room.

And the other Eddie was back behind his desk and viewing TV screens.

“Most inconvenient,” he said. “It would seem that we have a heavy police presence above.”

“Really?” said Eddie. “Why?”

“Well,
that
,” and the other Eddie pointed to a screen that displayed the sweating face of a large and bandaged black man who was struggling from a grounded helicopter, “is LA Police Chief Samuel J. Maggott. He arrested your chum Jack, who later escaped from police custody and found his way to the Haley’s Comet Lounge. It was from there that your chum was directed to come here.”

“I don’t quite understand
that
,” said Eddie. “In fact, I don’t understand it at all.”

“Mister Haley is in our employ. As are many others. However, it appears that Mister Haley overstepped the mark and reported your chum to the police. Mister Haley is what is known as a hick. He’s as dumb as a dancing dingbat.”

“So what do you intend to do?” Eddie asked.

“I am not altogether sure.” The other Eddie pressed buttons on his desk. Other TV screens lit up to display many black and white police cars, all within the confines of the wire-fenced compound, and many armed officers climbing from these cars.

“Tricky,” said the other Eddie.

“Very,” said Eddie. “And at such a difficult time for you. Do you think I might make a suggestion?”

“Well, you
might –
go on.”

“Well,” said Eddie, “my end is near. I understand that and I
have
come to terms with it. Would I be correct in assuming that my Jack plunged to his death in that elevator?”

“Well …” said the other Eddie.

“I thought so,” said Eddie. “But no hard feelings. You were doing what had to be done. I understand that.”

“You really
are
a most understanding little bear.”

“Most,” said Eddie. “So, the police have come for Jack, haven’t they? So why not give them what they’ve come for?”

“Give them his body. That’s a good idea.”

“No,” said Eddie. “That’s a
bad
idea. That would attract much suspicion. Questions would be asked. Policemen would hang around the crime scene. Bad idea, don’t do it.”

“No,” said the other Eddie. “You’re right. Then what?”

“I’ll tell you
what
.” And Eddie Bear smiled. And it was a broad one. It was an ear-to-ear.

The other Eddie pressed another button. He had
so
many buttons on his poo-flecked desk. “Jack,” he called into an intercom. “Jack, are you there?”

“Yes,” said the voice of the other Jack. “I’m here, boss – what do you want? Does that bear need further roughing-up?”

“No, Jack, no. But we have a bit of trouble upstairs. A lot of policemen have arrived. Would you mind going up to speak to them?”

“What do you want me to say to them, sir?”

“Well, you’ll find a big sweaty black one puffing away next to a helicopter. Go up to him and say these words: ‘I give myself up.’ Do
you
think you can remember that?”

“Well, of course, sir, but I don’t quite understand.”

“All will become clear. Just do it, please – it is a matter of the utmost importance.
And
a direct order. Do you understand
that
?”

The voice of Jack said, “Yes, boss.”

The other Eddie switched off the intercom. “I suppose you’d like to watch this on the TV screen,” he said to Eddie. Eddie Bear nodded.

“Could we watch it on
all
the screens?” he asked.

And Eddie Bear
did
enjoy the screenings. He enjoyed watching the other Jack shambling over to Police Chief Samuel J. Maggott. He enjoyed the look of surprise and shock on the face of the other Jack, which the other Eddie brought into close-up, when the other Jack found himself surrounded by
so
many armed policemen. And although he couldn’t actually hear the remonstrations, he enjoyed the shouting faces. And then the truncheonings down and the police boots going in. Eddie did enjoy those boots going in.

Very much indeed.

“Now you see,” said the other Eddie, clearly enjoying it, too, “
that
makes me laugh. In fact,
that
is the first time that my comedy sidekick Jack
has
made me laugh.”

“I’m so pleased that I could be of assistance,” said Eddie, and he rocked somewhat as he said it.

“Oh,” said the other Eddie. “You’re all but gone, aren’t you?”

“All but so,” said Eddie Bear.

“And do you know,” said the other Eddie, “I
do
feel for you. Somehow. I
do
, really.”

“Thanks,” said Eddie Bear.

“And look.” The other Eddie pointed to the TV screens. “They’re leaving. All the police are leaving.”

“Glad to be of assistance. Like I said.”

“You’re as genuine as a golden guinea,” said the other Eddie. “I’ll tell you what. As you haven’t much time, I
will
let you meet Her Majesty. In fact, I will take you to her now. It’s only fair – I owe you. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Eddie. “Thanks.”

“Come on then,” said the other Eddie. “Let’s do it.”

And he pressed yet another button on his desk.

And they did.

The flying disc dropped down once more through the floor hole in the poo-splattered office. It drifted downwards and downwards and as it did so Eddie made enquiries regarding its motive power.

He received in reply a stream of technical data, which, even though he repeatedly smote his head in order to aid cogitation, passed over his head, due to its intricate nature.

“And these chickens created
you
?” asked Eddie as his knee parts wobbled uncertainly. “How did they do
that
, exactly?”

“You weren’t abducted only the once,” said his other self in reply. “They took you off several times during your tenure as mayor, They grew me from bits of you as one might grow a plant from a seed. Although the technique used was considerably more complicated than that. Would you like me to explain it?”

“No,” said Eddie. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“And of course, during your periods of abduction the chickens put a few ideas into your head regarding social reform in Toy City.”

“What?” went Eddie, in some alarm. “You put ideas in my head? How?”

“It was somewhat easier than you might think – we just added our own special sawdust.”

Eddie now whacked at his furry head. “I feel somehow …
dirty
” he said.

“Dirty?” And the other Eddie laughed. “If you think that us messing about with your head makes you feel somehow dirty, we won’t broach the subject of the tracking device we stuck up your bum.”

“No,” said Eddie. “I don’t think we will. So where are we going now?”

“To the launch site, of course.”

“Well, of course, where else?”

“We’ll be there in just a moment.”

The flying disc drifted downwards. Eddie viewed once more the massive engines and machinery of the ersatz-chicken production lines and shortly this was above them, as down they continued to the lowermost level of Area 52.

“Now let me ask you this,” said Eddie, “as some bright spark might, if he, she or it were observing this – why would the ‘launch site’ be on the lowermost level of Area Fifty-Two?”

“Good question,” said his other self. “But then why some things are underneath other things has always been a mystery, hasn’t it?”

“Has it?” asked Eddie.

“I watch a lot of TV,” said the other Eddie. “They have these programmes on about archaeology, digging up ancient sites. But the ancient sites are always underground. Along with the ancient roads. How do you explain that, eh? Why are ancient walls always four feet deep in the ground? Where did all that earth come from that has to be dug away? Does it mean that this world is getting bigger every year? Growing and growing? Perhaps that explains why there are so many worlds all next door to each other. What do you think?”

“I think I’m not very well,” said Eddie, and his knee parts gave out.

“On your feet, soldier,” said the other Eddie. “We’re nearly there now, see?”

And Eddie saw and Eddie was impressed.

Afeared also was Eddie Bear, but very much impressed.

They were dropping down now into a massive underground compound, a vast concrete expanse lit by many high-overhead lights, a concrete expanse on which stood at least a dozen spacecraft.

These were of the variety that Eddie had seen before. Like unto the one that had pursued him up the hillside of Toy Town.

Fine-looking tin-plate craft were these, with many rivets, many portholes and those big dome jobbies on the top that proper flying saucers always have.

“The propulsion units are fascinating,” said the other Eddie. “They employ a drive system powered by a cross-interflux, utilising the transperambulation of pseudo-cosmic anti-matter. Imagine
that
.”

And Eddie tried to. But did not succeed.

“You have to hand it to the chickens,” said the other Eddie, “I think it must have been that eternal question that sparked them into advanced technology.”

“You mean, ‘What came first, the chicken or the egg?’”

“No,” said the other Eddie. “‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’ I feel that the answer must be that the chicken needed to know what was on the other side.
Really
needed to know. And now they know what’s on the other side of so many roads and barriers between worlds and almost everything else. And one day there will be no life in the universe except chicken life and there’s no telling what they’ll do after that. Travel beyond death or beyond time, probably.”

“Well, bravo to those chickens,” said Eddie Bear once more. “Are we nearly there yet, by the way?”

“Nearly there, and … yes, we’re here.”

And Eddie had been watching as the disc came in to land. He had been watching all the activity around and about the flying saucers. All the comings and goings, all the liftings intos of stuff and fiddlings with all sorts of things. And Eddie had been viewing those who were all engaged in this industrious enterprise. For all and sundry engaged thus so were indeed of chicken-kind.

But somehow these were no ordinary chickens. No farmyard peckers, these. They were of a higher order of fowl. Clearly of superior intelligence, clad in uniforms and capable of using their wing-parts as a passable facsimile of hands.

Eddie viewed these dextrous appendages and wished like damn that his own hands had not been denied him.

As the flying disc settled onto the concrete floor, the other Eddie stepped nimbly from it and bid his wobbly counterpart to follow if he would.

Eddie stumbled onwards after his other self.

“Twelve spaceships,” the other Eddie told him as Eddie stumbled along, “each equipped with a thousand jars to store the essences in. It was felt prudent to speed up operations. Take all in a single gathering. Which ironically enough will fulfil certain prophecies promulgated by the various religious factions in Toy City. So I suppose there must be something to religion, mustn’t there?”

Eddie nodded slowly. There were no prophecies of doom to be found in the religious credo of The Midnight Growlers. There was love, there was laughter and indeed there was beer. But there was none of the grim stuff.

“The spaceships will fly out there,” said the other Eddie, pointing with a paw, “up that tunnel, out and through The Second Big O.”

“Surely they will be seen,” said Eddie Bear.

“By humankind? Probably. But it doesn’t matter. Those who believe in flying saucers are so vastly outnumbered by those who do not that their sworn testimonies are always laughed at. And as for those on the other side, they will never know what hit them. Fear not for them, Eddie. Their ends will be swift and painless. Their misery and enslavement will be over.”

“Will the chickens be hitting the meathead P.P.P.s?” asked Eddie, hopefully.

“Not yet. They’ll crash a single saucer, as they did here. The ‘survivor’ will wheel and deal with the P.P.P.s. Set up a production plant. Then they’ll add a few ingredients to the ersatz chickens, something to make the P.P.P.s and all the humankind on that side of the barrier compliant. The chickens will need their services as a workforce to redecorate Toy City. After that they will be redundant. Then they will be disposed of.”

“It’s all figured out,” said Eddie, “isn’t it?”

“Years and years of planning.”

“I am impressed,” said Eddie. “Now can I meet Her Majesty?”

“All in good time.”

“But I don’t have much in the way of good time left.”

“This is true,” said the other Eddie. “This is true indeed.”

And back beyond The Second Big O and up the Yellow Brick Road, a clockwork barman called Tinto said, “This is true indeed.”

“It is certainly true,” said Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis. “But what do
you
know about it?”

“Not much,” said Tinto, polishing furiously at a glass that needed no polishing. “I know Eddie’s missing because he hasn’t been in here for two days. And I think that’s a bit poor. It’s always me who helps him out on his cases
and
I wish to report the theft of my calculating pocket Wallah. Between you and me, I think that big boy Jack nicked her. Do you want me to fill out a form, or something? I have really nice handwriting.”

“That will not be necessary.” Wellington Bellis quaffed the beer that he wouldn’t be paying for, because chief inspectors never have to, which is a tradition, or an old charter, or something, no matter where you might happen to be in the known, or indeed the unknown Universe.

Along Tinto’s bar counter, laughing policemen laughed amongst themselves, poked with their truncheons at things they shouldn’t be poking at and laughed some more when these things fell to the floor and broke.

“And I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop them doing that,” said Tinto to Bellis.

“So you’re telling me,” said Wellington Bellis, “that you put a lot of ideas into the head of this wayward bear?”

“More than a lot,” said Tinto. “Most.”

“You are the source of inspiration to him, as it were?”

“Yes, you might say that.”

“Same again,” said Wellington Bellis, offering up his empty glass.

Tinto hastened without haste to oblige.

“You see,” said Bellis as Tinto did so, “we have a positive ID on the mass-murderer who did for the orchestra at the Opera House. The backstage doorman identified him.”

“Then you arrest the blighter,” said Tinto, “and do so with my blessings. If you need them, which in my opinion you probably will, as I am lately informed by the vicar of the local Church of Mechanology that The End Times are imminent.”

“Yes,” said Bellis, “word of such seems to be reaching me from all sides of late. But let us apply ourselves to the matter presently in hand.”

“The mass-murderer,” said Tinto.

“That very fellow. You see, it is my theory that he is not working alone. In fact I suspect he is an evil cat’s-paw working on behalf of some supercriminal. A sinister mastermind behind his vile doings.”

Tinto nodded thoughtfully, though his printed face smiled on.

“A criminal mastermind who put ideas into the head of this monster.
Who
is the source of his inspiration, as it were. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Well,” said Tinto. “Ah, excuse me, please, I have to serve this lady.”

The lady in question was Amelie, the long-legged dolly from Nadine’s Diner. The dolly well known to Jack.

Bellis looked on approvingly and made a wistful face. Now
there
was a good-looking dolly, he thought. A dolly who could certainly bring a fellow such as himself a great deal of pleasure. And solace, too, of course, because Chief Inspector Bellis was, in his
special
way, a police chief. And so he was, as with all police chiefs, having a rough one today. What with all the pressure being put upon him from his superiors to get results. And his wife in the process of divorcing him and everything. And him trying to give up drinking, and everything. And his India rubber self now being so perished that bits and bobs of him kept regularly dropping off. And everything.

“Bring me something long and cold with plenty of alcohol in it,” said Amelie to Tinto.

“I don’t think my wife’s available,” said Tinto.
[44]

“Just get me the drink, you clockwork clown.”

Tinto did as he was bid, chuckling as he did so.

Amelie turned to Chief Inspector Bellis. “And have
you
done anything?” she asked.

“I’ve done all manner of things.”

“About my boyfriend. I reported him missing. The gormsters on your front desk just laughed and looked down the front of my frock.”

Bellis, doing likewise, ceased this doing. “We’re on the case, madam,” he said.

“Well, you’d better get a move on. I’ve just come from a chapter meeting and from what I’ve heard there’s not going to be much time left to do anything.”

Tinto placed Amelie’s drink before her. It was short and warm, but it did have plenty of alcohol in it.

“Chapter meeting?” said Bellis to Amelie, averting his eyes from her breasts and straying them down to her legs.

“Chapter meeting, you dirty old pervert, I am a member of The Daughters of the Unseeable Upness.”

“Ah,” said Bellis, “one of those.”

“And according to our Chapter Mother, tonight is the night of the Big Closing. After tonight there will be no more nights, ever.”

“Really?” said Bellis. “And you personally hold to this belief?”

“I do,” said Amelie. “Which is why I intend to get very, very drunk tonight and, if given the opportunity, fulfil my wildest fantasies.”

“Really?” said Bellis. “And might these fantasies include having sex with a hero?”

“Women’s fantasies generally do. When they don’t include having sex with an absolute villain.”

“Interesting,” said Bellis. “So would these fantasies include having sex with a police hero? One who brought to book the evil mastermind, the source of inspiration who puts ideas into the head of a mass-murderer?”

“Undoubtedly,” said Amelie, tipping her drink down her throat. “Well …” said Wellington Bellis.

And, “Well,” said the other Eddie to his failing counterpart. “As time is now rapidly running out for you and the chickens are on a tight schedule, we’d better let you say hello to Her Madge, eh?”

“That would be nice,” said Eddie, tottering somewhat as he did so. “Then I could wish her well and everything.”

“You are such a well-adjusted bear,” said Eddie’s other self.

“I try my best,” said Eddie. “Oh, and might I ask you something?”

“Indeed, my friend, you might.”

“Well, I was just wondering – what would happen if something were to happen to Her Majesty?”

“Happen?” said the other Eddie.

“Something bad,” said Eddie. “Some accident or something.”

“That is
not
going to happen. Believe me, it is not.”

“No,” said Eddie, “of course not. But say it did. Say the unthinkable occurred, something that you were unable to prevent. Some tragedy, resulting in Her Majesty’s untimely demise.”

“Such is unthinkable, of course.”

“But imagine if you did think it. How would it affect the chickens’ plans for inter-world domination?”

“Rather hugely, I imagine.” And the other Eddie laughed. “You see, there is no royal line of succession in the chicken queendom. Too many princesses, you see. The chicken queendom is a matriarchy, democratically elected. But a queen will live for hundreds of years – chickens do if they’re not interfered with. But it is the tradition that a new queen will overthrow and reverse all the policies made by a previous queen.”