Part 13 (1/2)

'And is that bad?'

'It could be when you translate the name into Greek. That would make it Hermes. Hermes Tris-megistus to be precise.'

'Oh s.h.i.+t.' Tuppe took a step back from the front door. 'As in Train of Trismegistus?'

'That would be the one.

'Best not ring for service, then?'

'Best not. Let's go home and get some sleep. We've screwed up quite enough for one night.'

'Another day, another ocarina, is that what you're saying?'

'Something of that nature, yes.'

'Then might I trouble you to give me a piggyback? My legs are all walked out.'

'That', said Cornelius Murphy. smiling like a good'n, 'would be my pleasure.'

Inspectre Hovis had quite forgotten the meaning of the word 'pleasure'. He now sat in the gutter, cleaning the blade of his swordstick on a discarded Kentucky Fried Chicken box. A young woman all covered in custard had just pa.s.sed him by. The two of them had clashed terribly, colourwise, and she had looked him up and down and denounced him as a pervert. The Inspectre shook his head. It was an un-funny old world and no mistake.

Hovis shook green slime from his fingers and climbed to his feet. He was rightly perplexed.

It is a fact, well known to those who know it well, that all policemen above the rank of sergeant are not only Freemasons, but Jesuits. The reason for this is quite obvious when you think about it. The coming of the Millennium and the inevitable appearance of The Antichrist.

The exact dates and details of these earth-shattering events are known only to a chosen few. The Pope, his wife and their son Colin. Just how the pontiff came by this privileged information is a bit of a mystery. Some say that the dates and details were edited out of the New Testament, during its trans-lation from the original Greek, in the year 999. Others, and this seems very much more likely, that the Pope is on first-name terms with the Almighty, who regularly drops in for a cappuccino and a 'feet--up' in front of the telly, to watch the Italian football.

But, be all this as it may, the Church of Rome, seeking as ever to better the lot of the common man, has, over the years, taken certain steps to prepare itself for the big showdown.

Making sure that the police forces of the world are in its back pocket being just one of them.

Inspectre Hovis had mused upon the foregoing many times since his compulsory initiation into the Jesuit brotherhood. But he hadn't believed one word of any of it.

But all this business tonight had him rightly per-plexed.

The Inspectre sheathed his now once-more-immaculate blade and flexed his shoulders. He had best be away home before somebody reported him to the police.

He didn't see the silver car until it was almost upon him.

It came without much sound, but at considerable speed. As it mounted the pavement the Inspectre and the driver stared for the briefest of moments into each other's eyes. And then the great detective leapt for his life. Over the parapet of the bridge and down into the icy depths of the River Thames.

Cornelius gaped in horror. He'd seen the whole thing. And now the silver car was heading straight inhis direction.

'Oh b.u.g.g.e.r!' The tall boy turned and took flight, clutching the now slumbering Tuppe about his shoulders. The silver car whistled after him.

Cornelius did not run down the middle of the road, as they do in the movies. He knew better than that. He made for the trees of Kew Green.

The silver car b.u.mped up on to the turf, goug-ing great ruts out of the gra.s.s. A strongly worded letter, from the local residents' committee to the Home Secretary, would be penned the following day, regarding these ruts. Although they would be some-what far down the list of complaints, as a lot worse was to follow this night.

Cornelius dodged in and out of the oak trees, seeking a low bough to swing up on. But all had been clipped against such possible outrage.

'b.u.g.g.e.r,' puffed the runner.

The silver car swerved after him in hot pursuit.

'Wake up, Tuppe. We're in big trouble.'

'Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz,' went Tuppe.

The church on Kew Green is a historic affair. Designed by Sir Christopher Wren, it presents a wealth of period detail to the lover of ecclesiastical architecture. The transept to the north is of particular interest, with its fan vaulting and distinctive gilded funerary escutcheons.

Thomas Gainsborough lies buried in the church-yard and the walls enclosing this were built high against the 'resurrection' men. They remain high to this day. They may be scaled, using considerable care, but as to 'leaping them in a single bound'? No way.

Cornelius suddenly found himself pressed up against the south-facing wall, with nowhere left to run.

The silver car moved forward, catching him to perfection in its headlights.

The tall boy straightened the sleeper on his shoulders and raised a hand to stir him from his rest. But then he thought better of it. If they were both to die here, smashed up against a graveyard wall, perhaps it was kinder that Tuppe didn't know about it. He could apologize later. In heaven.

The silver car ploughed forward and Cornelius stood his ground.

It pulled up not three yards away and stood, its engine throbbing.

Cornelius s.h.i.+elded his eyes to the glare, clung to Tuppe with one hand and made a fist with the other.

'I'm ready,' said he.

The pa.s.senger door swung slowly open, and a voice called out the now legendary words, 'Come with me if you want to live.'

Cornelius squinted into the headlights' beam. 'Mr Schwarzenegger, is that you?'

'Don't be a silly a.r.s.e,' the voice replied. 'Get into the car. They are close behind.'

And close behind they were. Across the green four sets of headlights swept into view. They sliced be-tween the trees and across the gra.s.s. They were very close behind.

Without further words spoken. Cornelius dragged Tuppe from his shoulders, cradled him in his arms and ducked for the silver car.

The driver put the vehicle into reverse and spun the wheel around.

'It might be appropriate, at this time, that you position your head firmly between your knees.

Sud-den impact is a predictable circ.u.mstance.'

's.h.i.+va's sheep!' Cornelius clutched Tuppe to his bosom and ducked his head. The driver tore the car about and bore towards his pursuers. He struck the first a glancing blow which sent the tall boy sprawling to the floor.

'Wake up, Tuppe,' said he.

But Tuppe snored on.