The Toyminator (9 page)

“These guns are
very
old.”

“Sling the rest of them down here and follow on, then.”

Eddie did so. Jack climbed from the secret hideaway, extinguished candles, did complicated in-the-dark back-tuggings of the rug and lowerings of the trap door over him and Eddie.

Voices, slightly muffled now but growing louder nonetheless, were to be heard above.

“And
I
say that I locked the door behind us,” said one voice.

“And
I
say that you forgot,” said another. “And as I’m in charge, that’s final.”

“Oh yes, so who put you in charge?”

“You know perfectly well. This operation has to be carried out with military precision. I’m in charge, you are merely my comedy sidekick.”

“I’m
not
a comedy sidekick, I’m a professional.”

“Light the candles, then.”

There came now the sound of a slight scuffle, followed by a heavy thump. Right on top of the trap door.

Eddie flinched, as did Jack, though neither saw the other do it.

“Good comedy falling,” said one of the voices. “See, you excel at that kind of thing. Stick to what you know. I’ll be in charge, you do the comedy falling about.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose. Someone scuffed up this rug. Someone’s been here.”

“Well, they’re not here now.”

“They might be upstairs, asleep.”

“There’s no one here. Just you and me and our little cargo, of course. You didn’t damage the cargo with your comedy falling, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t. I’ll put it here on the table – do you want to see it?”

“Best see it, I suppose. Not that I really want to.”

“No, nor me – they give me the creeps, they way they move about in their little jars. They’re really horrid.”

Eddie looked at Jack in the darkness beneath.

Jack looked at a spider. He thought he was looking at Eddie.

“One little peep, then,” said one of the voices above.

“One is quite enough. I’ll be glad when this job is done. If it ever is done. I can see this job going on for ever. Or at least until everyone in Toy City is jarred-up. They are valuable commodities back home. The boss will have us jar-up the entire city, you see if I’m wrong.”

“It’s not right, you know.”

“Right doesn’t enter into it. It’s business, pure and simple. Gather them up, take them back, that’s what we’re paid for.”

“But they’re living beings.”

“They’re toys.”

“Yes, but
living
toys.”

“Well, of course they are. There wouldn’t be much point in going to all this trouble if they weren’t living, would there?”

“But it’s murder when it comes right down to it.”

“Murder of
toys
?”

“Oh, look at that one in the jar at the end. It’s really agitated.”

“The bandleader. He’s frisky all right, just like those monkeys. Shut the case up, I don’t like looking at them.”

Eddie and Jack heard muffled clickings.

Then they heard a voice say, “Get your stuff from upstairs and we’ll be off. We have to deliver tonight’s cargo by dawn.”

And then they heard departing footsteps.

Then returning footsteps.

Then departing footsteps again and the slamming of the front door.

“Do you think they’re gone?” Jack whispered.

“Hold on a bit longer,” said Eddie. “Just to be sure.”

Time passed.

“They’ve gone,” whispered Eddie.

Jack pushed up the trap door, rug and all, emerged from the hideaway, blundered around in the darkness and eventually brought light once more to the late Bill Winkie’s parlour.

“Well, what do you make of all
that
?” Jack asked.

“Nothing good,” said Eddie.

“Shouldn’t we be following them?” Jack asked.

“No,” said Eddie, “we shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not ready to deal with this yet, Jack. We don’t know what’s going on – we have to know more.”

“Then we should follow them now.”

“They said they were delivering tonight’s cargo. They’ll be coming back tomorrow, I would guess. Let’s make certain we’re ready and waiting for them then.”

“Sound enough,” said Jack. “But what were they talking about? What did they have in their jars?”

“Souls, perhaps,” said Eddie. “The souls of the clockwork band.”

“Their souls, Eddie? What are you saying?”

“You heard what I heard, Jack. Draw your own conclusions.”

“I heard what you heard, Eddie, but did you hear
what
I heard?
What
we heard?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Eddie.

“Oh, I think you do. The voices, Eddie. You heard the voices.”

“Of course I heard them. Now stop talking, let me think.”

“No,” said Jack. “You heard them as I did. You heard those voices.”

“I heard them,” said Eddie. “Now stop.”

“Not until you’ve said it.”

“Said what?”

“You know exactly what. Now say it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you
do
, Eddie. Say it.”

“All right!” Eddie glared at Jack. “I know what you want me to say that I heard. And all right, I
did
hear it, same as you heard it. Their voices. All right, I heard them.”

“Say it,” said Jack.

“They were
our
voices,” said Eddie. “Yours and mine. Our voices. All right, I’ve said it – are you happy?”

“No,” said Jack. “I am
not
. They
were
our voices. What does this mean?”

“It means,” said Eddie, “that not only is there a doppelganger of me doing these murders, but there’s one of you, too.”

Jack did shudderings. “I was really hoping that you might have been able to come up with a comfier explanation than that,” he said.

“Comfier?” said Eddie.

“This is really scary stuff,” said Jack. “Doppelgangers of you and me? I don’t know about the soul-stealing business, but murdering doppelgangers is scary enough for me. Were they space aliens, do you suppose?”

Eddie shrugged as best as he was able. “I suppose so,” he said.

“But space aliens don’t go stealing souls,” said Jack.

“Oh, you know all about the habits of space aliens now, do you?”

“I know what I know,” said Jack. “There’s a blinding light and the space aliens abduct you, stick instruments up your bottom and then return you hours later with your memories erased. That’s what space aliens do.”

“You do talk twaddle, Jack.”

“Listen,” said Jack, “that’s what space aliens do, if there are space aliens. But as I don’t believe in space aliens, I don’t care whether you believe me or not.”

Eddie was now thumping his head with his paws.

“I hate it when you do that,” said Jack.

“It helps to jiggle my brainy bits about,” said Eddie. “Aids cogitation. We have all the clues, Jack, I’m sure we do. We can figure this thing out.
I
can figure this thing out.”

“Let’s tell Bellis what we heard here,” said Jack. “Let him and his laughing policemen lay in wait for these –”

“Doppelgangers of us?” said Eddie.

“Whatever they are.”

Eddie gave his head some further thumpings. “Something is coming,” he said.

“An idea?” asked Jack. “An answer? What?”

“Something,” said Eddie. “Something.”

“Something,” said Jack. And then he said, “Eddie?”

“What, Jack, what?”

“Eddie, something.”

And then something came upon them. It came upon them in a blinding light, which rushed at them through the windows and up through the cracks between the floorboards and around the trap door and in through the keyhole and down the chimney and even up the plughole in the sink in the kitchen. And this light was white and this light was pure and this light was fearsome.

And Eddie clung to the legs of Jack and Jack held Eddie’s head in one hand and shielded his eyes with the other. And Eddie screamed. And Jack screamed. They screamed together. Together as one. And the bright white light engulfed them, surrounded them and swallowed them up.

And was gone.

“Careful,” said Eddie. “Look where you’re driving.”

Jack swung the wheel; the car all but struck a fence. Nearly went over a cliff and into a river. Jack jammed his foot upon the brake.

“That was close,” he said.

“You dozed off,” said Eddie. “Fell asleep at the wheel.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jack. “It’s been a long night. I’m tired.”

“You were asleep.”

“I’m sorry, I said. Where are we?”

“Nearly home, I think.”

“Nearly home?”

“Nearly home.”

“But –” said Jack.

“But what?”

“But we weren’t driving home. We were –”

“We were what?”

“We were somewhere, weren’t we?”

“We were at Tinto’s Bar and now we’re driving home.”

“No,” said Jack. “We were somewhere else after Tinto’s Bar – we went somewhere else.”

“No we didn’t,” said Eddie. “We had a beer, several, in fact. Many, in fact.”

“I didn’t,” said Jack. “I’m confused.”

“See, you did have beers.”

“Did you have beer?”

“Do my kind defecate in the woodland regions?”

“Then you’re drunk.”

Eddie felt at his legs. “I’m not,” said he. “My legs are not.”

“Something happened, Eddie, something weird.”

“Jack, you’re not making sense.”

“There was a light,” said Jack. “A very bright light.”

“You
are
drunk.”

“I’m not,” said Jack. He looked at his watch. “Five a.m. in the morning,” he said. “The sun’s coming up.”

“Five in the morning?” said Eddie. “That’s odd. I thought it was about two.”

“There was a bright light,” said Jack. “I remember a light. And there’s something more.”

“Something more?”

“My bottom’s sore,” said Jack.

“Oh,” said Eddie. “That’s funny.”

“It’s not,” said Jack. “It hurts.”

“No, I didn’t mean that it’s funny like that. I mean it’s, funny because my bum is sore, too.”

Jack looked at Eddie.

And Eddie looked at Jack.

“Aaaaaaagh!” they both agreed.

“No,” said Eddie. “No, no, no.”

“Yes,” said Jack. “I think so, yes.”

It was nine of the morning clock now and they hadn’t slept, or at least they thought they hadn’t slept. They were back in Bill Winkie’s office. Eddie sat on Bill Winkie’s desk in a bowl of iced water. Jack sat in Bill’s chair upon several cushions.

And, “No,” said Eddie once again. “It can’t have happened, no.”

“I don’t get you at all,” said Jack, rootling around in desk drawers in search of a bottle of something. “You were the one saying that it was space aliens and now we’ve been abducted by space aliens and returned with our memories erased and you’re saying no, it can’t have happened. Why are you saying this, Eddie?”

“Because,” said Eddie, shifting uncomfortably upon his sore bottom. “Just because, that’s all.”

“Just because they’re
my
kind of space aliens.” Jack shifted uncomfortably in Bill’s chair. “That’s it, isn’t it? You wanted clockwork space aliens with tin-plate ray guns and now you’re jealous –”

“Jealous?” said Eddie.

“No,” said Jack, “jealous is not the word I mean. You’re miffed.”

“That’s nothing like jealous at all.”

“But you are miffed, because it was
my
space aliens. Because I was right and you were wrong.”

“Then pat yourself on the back for being right.” Eddie made a huffy face. “But pat yourself on the shoulders to avoid your punctured bum.”

“Stop. Don’t even think about that. What do you think they did to us?”

“If I don’t even think about it, then I don’t know.”

“We were abducted.” Jack now made a different face from the one he had previously been making, the one that would have turned the milk sour if there’d been any milk around, but there wasn’t any, because he and Eddie hadn’t got around to buying any, as they spent most of what money they had upon alcohol. The different face that Jack made was of that variety that one sees in those big paintings of the saints whilst they are being horribly martyred in some unspeakable fashion (which often tends to involve certain pointy things being thrust up certain tender places). It is the face of the beatified. There’s no mistaking it.

“What does
that
face mean?” asked Eddie.

“It means that we have become two amongst the chosen.” Jack linked his fingers, as in prayer. “It means we’re special, Eddie.”

“I was special anyway.” Eddie splashed iced water about himself. “I have a special tag in my ear to prove it and everything.”

“We were taken up,” said Jack, in the voice of one evangelising. “We were taken up into the light.”

“By sexual perverts,” said Eddie. “Don’t forget that part.”

“They might have implanted us,” said Jack, in no less evangelising a tone. Well, perhaps just a little less. Perhaps with a hint of a tone of troubledness to it.

“You mean they’ve made us pregnant?” Eddie all but fell out of his bowl.

“No,” said Jack. “They stick implants up your nose.”

“Up your bum, up your nose? What is the matter with these people?”

“We can’t be expected to understand them,” said Jack. “Their thinking patterns are totally different from ours. It would be like you trying to communicate with a beetle.”

“Some of my best friends are beetles,” said Eddie. “But this doesn’t make any sense, the way you’re talking. I seem to recall that you
do not believe in space aliens
.”

“I’ve been converted,” said Jack. “I’ve seen the light.”

“Just like that? There could be all manner of other explanations. You shouldn’t go jumping to conclusions.”

“The bright light. The missing time. The erased memories. The …” Jack indicated the area of his anatomy that rested gingerly upon the cushions. “It all fits together. There’s no point in denying it.”

“All right,” said Eddie. “All right. Something happened to us. Something worrying.”

“We were taken up into the light.”

“Stop saying that or I’ll bite you somewhere that will take your mind off your sore bottom. Although not by many inches.”

Jack crossed his legs, said, “Ouch,” and uncrossed them again.

“Something happened to us,” Eddie continued. “I don’t know what and you don’t know what, either. Somehow we will have to find out what. It all has to be part of the case. A big part. Think hard, Jack. Do you remember anything at all?”

“Leaving Tinto’s,” said Jack. “Driving. Then a really bright light, then waking up in the car, which was nearly going over a cliff and into a river.”

“And nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie dusted at his trenchcoat; its hem was sodden in the water bowl. “We went somewhere after we left Tinto’s. Hold out your hands, Jack.”

Jack gave a doubtful look. “Why?” he asked. “You’re not going to bite me, are you?”

“I just want to look at your hands. Stick ’em out.”

Jack stuck ’em out.

Eddie examined Jack’s hands. “Interesting,” he said. “Turn them over.”

Jack turned them over.

“
Very
interesting,” said Eddie. “Now stand up, turn slowly around and show me the soles of your shoes.”

“Are you having a laugh, Eddie?”

“Please just humour me.”

Jack rose carefully, pushed back the chair carefully, did a slow twirl, with equal care, then lifted one foot and then the other towards Eddie. With insufficient care, Jack fell down in a heap.

“Always the comedy sidekick,” said Eddie. “What would I do without you?”

“I’m not a comedy sidekick,” said Jack, rising
very
carefully and lowering himself with considerable care back onto the cushions.

“Well, you had an interesting night out,” said Eddie, “by the evidence upon your person.”

“Did I?” said Jack. “Go on.”

“You took a walk in the countryside,” said Eddie, “through gorse and briar, then along a yellow-bricked road. You lit a candle from a tinderbox and you handled several antique weapons.”

“I did all
that
? How can you tell?”

“I could leave you in awe of my special senses,” said Eddie, splashing water at Jack, “but the evidence is all over you, on your coat, the soles of your shoes, your fingers and fingernails. And lean over here a little.”

Jack did so and Eddie sniffed at him.

“What?” said Jack.

“You need a shower,” said Eddie. “Your personal hygiene is a disgrace. Typical of teenage boys, that is.”

“Thanks a lot,” said Jack.

“Only kidding. There’s a smell about you, Jack.” Eddie sniffed at himself. “And about me also. A different smell. One I’ve never smelled before.”

“The smell of space aliens?” Jack took to sniffing himself.

“Very probably so. We have to find out what happened to us.”

“I could hypnotise you,” said Jack. “Hypnotic regression, it’s called. Take you back to the moment when we saw the bright light. That’s how it’s done.”

“Jack,” said Eddie, “do you
really
know how to hypnotise someone?”

“I do in theory.”

“But you’ve never actually done it.”

“I’ve never had sex with a chicken, but I know how to do it, in theory.”

Eddie looked very hard at Jack.

“Sorry,” said Jack. “I don’t know why I said that. But you know what I mean.”

“I certainly do
not
.”

“No. But you know what I mean.”

“Forget it,” said Eddie. “Teddies cannot be hypnotised.”

“You don’t know that. Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it, I always say.”

“And thus the chickens walk in fear.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. But teddies cannot be hypnotised. I tried it once and it didn’t work on me.”

Jack looked hard at Eddie. “Why did you try?” he asked.

“I had this theory,” said Eddie, “that if hypnotists can hypnotise folk into doing anything they want them to do –”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” said Jack.

“It is around here,” said Eddie. “Believe me. Well, my theory was simple: I’d get the hypnotist to hypnotise me into being Toy City’s greatest hypnotist, then I’d be able to place anyone I wanted under my control.”

“That’s outrageous,” said Jack.

“Naturally, I would only have used my powers for good.”

“Well, naturally.” Jack now made a
very
doubtful face.

“But it didn’t work,” said Eddie. “The hypnotist said that he’d really tried his hardest. I had to go for ten sessions. It was very expensive.”

“Hm,” went Jack. “Did it ever cross your mind –”

“What?” Eddie asked.

“Nothing,” said Jack. “So teddies can’t be hypnotised. But I’ll bet I could be. Shall we visit this hypnotist and see if he can do it?”

“Ah,” said Eddie. “I don’t think he’s practising any more.”

“Oh,” said Jack. “Why not?”

“Well, he gave up when he got out of hospital.”

“Why was he in hospital?” Jack asked.

“He took a rather severe biting,” said Eddie.

“Right,” said Jack, and he recrossed his legs and kept them recrossed, though it hurt. “So,” said Jack, “hypnotists are not a happening thing, then.”

“Oh, they are,” said Eddie. “Though not that one. I know another one. I think we’ll pay him a visit.”

“Right,” said Jack once more. “There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“First I think I’ll take a shower and then we’ll take some breakfast.”

They took their breakfast at Nadine’s Diner. They travelled there in Bill’s car, via the nearest pawnbrokers, where they pawned Bill’s water cooler. Well, money
was
short, and they
were
on an important case. And they
were
very hungry indeed.

And on the way into the diner, Jack purchased the morning’s edition of the
Toy City Mercury
.

They took a table by the window, ordered a Big Boy’s Blow-Out Breakfast a-piece, with double hash browns, muffins, dumplings, pancakes, cheesecakes, fishcakes, fairy cakes and Fanny Lapalulu’s Fudgecake Surprise. Jack spread the paper before him and perused the front page news. “DOLLY DUMPLING DEAD” ran the headline, which told it as it was. And beneath it ran text that didn’t.

“Freak accident?” said Jack. “Struck by lightning?”

“Well, what did you expect?” Eddie asked.

“The truth,” said Jack.

“In a newspaper?”

Jack shrugged. “Well, not
all
of the truth, perhaps.”

“And what is the truth? No one saw anything except a really bright light. It could have been lightning.”

“It wasn’t lightning, you know that.”

“I know that, you know that. Oh, damn,
he
knows that, too.”

“He?” Jack looked up. “Oh dear,” he said.

Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis smiled his perished smile upon them. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said. “Might I sit down and join you?”

“Oh yes, please do,” said Eddie. “How wonderful to see you again so soon.”

“I thought I might find you here, filling your faces.” Wellington Bellis took a seat. “You’ve seen the paper, I see.”

“For what it’s worth.” Jack tossed the thing aside.

“It’s worth a great deal,” said Bellis. “We don’t want panic in the streets, now do we? We want to get this thing tied up all neat and nice, as quickly as possible, don’t we?”

“Of course we do,” said Eddie. “Jack and I were just planning our next move when you arrived. Such a pity you’ve derailed our train of thought.”

“Such a pity,” said Bellis, and he reached out and squeezed Eddie’s left paw.

“That hurts rather,” said Eddie. “Would you mind not doing that?”

“I want results,” said Bellis, “and I want them fast. I need the culprit banged up at the hurry-up. And if I do not have the real culprit, I will have to make do with the next best thing. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very clear,” said Jack. “Please stop doing that to Eddie.”

“Always the little bear’s protector.”

“Eddie is my friend. Please let go of his paw.”

Bellis let go of Eddie’s paw. Eddie gave it rubbings with his other one.

“You wouldn’t want any harm to come to this dear little chap, would you, Jack?” asked Bellis, smiling horribly. “Such a pity that would be.”

“There’s no need for this.” Jack glared daggers at the chief inspector. “We are doing all that we can. We want to sort this out as much as you do. Especially after what happened to us.”

“What?” said Bellis. “What is this of which you speak?”

“Jack’s talking about Old King Cole’s,” said Eddie. “That’s what you were talking about, wasn’t it, Jack?” Eddie made a frowning face at Jack.

“Ah,” said Jack. “Ah, yes. That’s exactly what I was talking about. Very upsetting for me, that was. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Yes,” said Bellis. “You certainly look like shi –”

“Two Big Boy’s Blow-Out Breakfasts,” said a waitress. A long dolly waitress, with long dolly legs that went right up. “Excuse me, sir, if you would.”

Bellis rose from his chair and gazed down upon the two detectives. “Results,” said he. “And fast. Or else.” And he drew a rubber finger across his rubber throat. “Enjoy your breakfasts.”

And Bellis departed.

“What a bastard,” said Jack.

“Language,” said Eddie. “There’s a lady present.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said the waitress. “I’m not much of a lady. A couple of drinks and I’m anyone’s, really.”

“Really?” said Jack. “What time do you finish your shift?”

“Jack,” said Eddie.

“Sorry,” said Jack.

“Six o’clock,” said the waitress.

“Jack,” said Eddie.

“Might we have a pot of coffee, please?” said Jack.

The waitress departed and Jack watched her do so.

“Please keep your mind on the case,” said Eddie. “You’re as randy as.”

“I think she fancies me,” said Jack.

“Of course she fancies you,” said Eddie.

“I have a definite way with the ladies,” said Jack, preening at his trenchcoat lapels.

“You don’t,” said Eddie, tucking into his breakfast.

“I do,” said Jack, now tucking into his. “Amelie says that she loves me.”

“Well, of course she would.” Eddie thrust breakfast into his mouth, which made his words difficult to interpret.

“Because I’m so handsome and nice,” said Jack, although there was much of the, “Beccmmnth mmn sm hndsmn and nnnce,” about the way he said it.