The Japanese Devil Fish Girl and Other Unnatural Attractions

by Robert Rankin

  ‘Assistance?’ said George. ‘Why, certainly,’ said George. ‘But of what possible assistance could I be to you on any matter?’ said George also.

  ‘It is a complicated business,’ said Mr Gladstone, ‘but I will do my best to explain it in as simple terms as possible. I must first ask you to take an oath that nothing that is spoken of within these four walls will go beyond them, so to speak.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said George. ‘Do you have a Bible?’

  ‘We have something more than that.’ Mr Gladstone touched a bell button upon the table before him. Shortly thereafter a panel in the oaken wall behind him slid open and a Gentleman in Black appeared carrying something swaddled in a red velvet cloth. He plodded about the secret room, then placed this something onto the table before George and withdrew the cloth in the manner of a conjurer. ‘Wallah.’

  George gaped down at what lay before him. It glittered as a rare gem. As a piece of a pharaoh’s hoard caught in the beam of a treasure hunter’s lamp. It was a little larger than an average pocket Bible, but exuded a quality of absolute pricelessness.

  ‘The Book of Sayito,’ he said. ‘I thought somehow it might be bigger.’

  Ada gazed at the wonderful book. The cover of gold embossed with unearthly gems. ‘It is identical to the one I read in Lemuria,’ she said. ‘It is The Book of Sayito.’

  ‘A Book of Sayito,’ said Mr Gladstone. ‘We are aware of at least five others. But for all we know there may be thousands, millions even, scattered throughout inhabited worlds across the universe.’

  ‘Goodness me,’ was all that George could say. But he gently placed his hand upon the cover of the holy book and swore a vow of secrecy.

  Ada did likewise.

  Mr Gladstone continued, ‘As you must know, Mr Fox, the sun never sets upon the British Empire. Two-thirds of this world are under our benign control, as is the planet Mars.’

  George nodded thoughtfully and wondered what was coming.

  ‘As you will also know,’ continued Mr Gladstone once more, ‘after the failed Martian invasion, the British Empire carried the fight to the Red Planet and defeated the Martians there. Ambassadors from Venus and Jupiter made their appearance before Her Majesty Queen Victoria and an era of interplanetary trade and peaceful commerce commenced. Now, Mr Fox, what you will not know is that the British Government, or at least certain members of it, had been aware of the existence upon this planet of men from Venus and Jupiter long before the Martians invaded. A secret department called the Ministry of Serendipity had been set up to monitor their movements, investigate the supernatural, paranormal, outré and untoward. With a view to, how shall I put this, increasing the viability and protection of the Empire. If magic or suchlike actually existed, or functioned, then the Empire should have it as a resource. Surely you would agree?’

  ‘Certainly,’ said George.

  ‘The Ministry employed spirit mediums, astrologers, diviners of future events. Some proved to be charlatans and were summarily dismissed. Others, such as Mr Macmoyster Farl and his father, were genuine and a great deal of valuable information was gleaned from them. These mediums had thought that they were communicating with the dead. They were, however, actually receiving telepathic messages from the ecclesiastics of Venus.

  ‘I will not bore you with all the details. The crux of the matter is that the ecclesiastics have been seeking something for millennia, something they claim was stolen from them.’

  ‘The Japanese Devil Fish Girl,’ said George. ‘The statue of Sayito.’

  ‘Precisely so, Mr Fox. The book before you is one of the grimoires written in the universal language. It is the Bible to countless races, within this solar system and beyond. The Venusian search led them eventually to Earth. They telepathically communicated the plans for a machine. Would you care to continue, Mr Babbage?’

  ‘I would,’ said Mr Babbage. ‘And hello to you again, Ada dear.’

  ‘Ada dear?’ queried George.

  ‘I met Mr Babbage during our flight back from the island, George. We talked about mathematics. I believe he intends to employ me to help him work on his new Difference Engine.’

  ‘I would be honoured,’ said Mr Babbage. ‘But to continue with the story. A Mr Phineas Barnum put up the money to construct this machine, the Hieronymous Machine it was named. A device, I was led to believe, that would act as a communicator with the dead. In fact, it was a locator. It sent a beam of energy all around the world in order to locate the statue of Sayito. Do not ask me how it functioned. I have to confess it was beyond my abilities to comprehend its workings. However, the energy that it transmitted apparently reached Mars. And as you might expect, the folk of Mars also had The Book of Sayito as their holy book. And they believed that the statue was stolen from their planet. And so they launched their attack upon Earth to reclaim it.’

  ‘I did know some of that,’ said George. ‘But certainly not all.’

  ‘This treasure,’ said Mr Gladstone, ‘now resides within St Paul’s Cathedral. Where it will continue to reside, I will have you know—’

  ‘Professor Coffin intends to tour it around the world,’ said George.

  ‘Professor Coffin,’ said Mr Gladstone, ‘is presently being hailed as a hero of the Empire. But both you and I know him for the scoundrel that he really is. Mr Fox, Mr Macmoyster Farl made a prediction that you would find Sayito, did he not?’

  ‘He did, sir,’ said George Fox.

  ‘And you told the professor of this prophecy and he financed the expedition to find the statue?’

  ‘He thought She was a living being. He sought to exhibit Her. He is, of course, now doubly happy as She is not living and so does not need feeding or paying.’

  ‘But I understand there have been complications.’

  ‘Are you speaking of the Martians that inhabit Lemuria?’ George asked.

  ‘I am,’ said Mr Gladstone. ‘Professor Coffin was not at all forthcoming regarding the inhabitants of the island. He skirted right around the issue, a most slippery individual.’

  ‘But what do you want of me?’ asked George. ‘I can tell you all I know about those Martians down there. And I can tell you this – if they are able to leave that island they will, and they will seek to destroy us all.’

  ‘Because they claim the statue to be theirs?’

  ‘Indeed.’ George nodded. ‘And what they read in The Book of Sayito is that they are the forces of Good and we are the forces of Evil, and they will destroy us in a mighty Apocalypse.’

  ‘Such as I feared,’ said Mr Gladstone, and he took from his pocket an oversized red gingham handkerchief and mopped at his brow with it. ‘I have to confess,’ said he, ‘that we are in a pretty pickle and no mistake. A party of Venusians visited the statue today—’

  ‘We saw them,’ said George.

  ‘And a party of Jupiterians also.’

  ‘We saw them too,’ George said.

  ‘Both parties reported back to their respective embassies in Grosvenor Square. And both of their ambassadors have sent me letters.’ Mr Gladstone lifted these letters, then let them drop from his fingers. ‘Both these letters demand the return of the statue,’ said he.

  ‘Difficult,’ said George. ‘I suppose you should probably have it returned to the Venusians. The Jupiterians appear as a race less religiously fanatic in their nature.’

  Mr Gladstone nodded. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘No?’ asked George.

  ‘Precisely, no. Do you not think that explorers of the British Empire have sought Sayito? All manner of men have sought Her. Sir Richard Burton, Professor Challenger, Doctor Livingstone, Allan Quatermain. All sought, all failed in their searches. You, however, were successful. How would you account for that?’

  ‘I would say sheer luck,’ said George. ‘But all luck long ago fled this dismal episode. Except for meeting Ada, of course.’

  ‘There must be some reason,’ said the Prime Minister, ‘why you should be the one to find Her. I believe that Mr Macmoyster
Farl’s prediction went—’ Mr Gladstone sought notes before him, ‘—“Upon your shoulders will rest the future of the planets”.’

  ‘Yes,’ said George. ‘I recall that line only too well.’

  ‘The question is,’ said Mr Gladstone, ‘how will your shoulders be employed in this matter?’

  ‘I will certainly do anything I can to help,’ said George. ‘If you would care for my advice, I would say, give the statue to either the Venusians or the Jupiterians. Let them sort out the matter between themselves. Elsewhere and not upon this planet.’

  ‘There may be wisdom in your words and I will bear them in mind,’ said Mr Gladstone. ‘But for now and for the foreseeable future, the most sacred object in the entire universe will stay exactly where it belongs. In St Paul’s, in London, at the heart of the British Empire.’

  George Fox bit at his upper lip. Ada leaned across and squeezed his hand. ‘Prime Minister,’ she said. And Mr Gladstone nodded. ‘I really do feel that you should heed my husband’s words. Perhaps it might be decided by a show of hands around the table.’

  ‘Are there any more matters that must be discussed?’ Mr Gladstone asked of Mr Babbage.

  Ada Fox did foldings of her arms. ‘Well, really!’ she said.

  ‘We need whatever information Mr Fox can give us regarding the martial strength of the Martian inhabitants of Lemuria,’ said Mr Babbage. ‘Anything at all will be helpful. I understand Mr Faircloud here has alerted the observatories around the world to “keep watching the sky”.’

  ‘I have,’ said Mr Faircloud. ‘If anything untoward appears in orbit around the planet we will be notified.’

  George stood up and protested. ‘And do what?’ he asked. ‘The Martian weapons were far superior to our own. Who knows what awful death rays and killing beams the Venusians might possess?’

  ‘Negotiations are ongoing,’ said Mr Gladstone.

  ‘Negotiations over what?’ George asked.

  ‘Young man,’ said Mr Gladstone, ‘I am the Prime Minister of England. I will not have you demand answers of me.’

  ‘This is all madness,’ said George. ‘We will all be killed.’

  ‘Things must move slowly and precisely through diplomatic channels,’ said the Prime Minister. ‘The ambassadors of Venus and Jupiter have made certain requests. These must be looked at, discussed, amended, reviewed. Committees must be formed to discuss procedures. Areas of discussion and negotiation must be broadened. These things are not to be rushed. No decisions must ever be made hastily. Such is the nature of democratic government.’

  George Fox rolled his eyes and sat back down.

  ‘We need to be in command of all relevant information, ’ said Mr Gladstone. ‘Which is why you are here: to help by telling all that you know. But big decisions must be left to big men. Negotiations over the statue may take weeks, months, years, decades even. So much red tape. So many departments that must be consulted. Leave it to us to make decisions, Mr Fox, and all will be for the best. You mark my words.’

  George Fox rolled his eyes once more.

  A knock came at the door.

  ‘Come,’ called the Prime Minister. And a Gentleman in Black entered, bearing letters on a tray.

  The Prime Minister received the letters, dismissed the Gentleman in Black, opened the envelopes that held the letters, read the letters to himself, then leaned back in his chair.

  ‘It would seem,’ said he, to one and all, ‘that our discussions must now take a different tack, for as of—’ he brought out his pocket watch and studied its face ‘—five minutes ago, both Jupiter and Venus have declared war on us.’

  41

  Mr Winston Churchill now rose to his feet and bowed.

  His baby face smiled sweetly as he declared that the time for empty words had passed and that he personally would take charge of dealing with the alien threat. Immediately. And have it all done before bedtime.

  George, at least, applauded this timescale.

  ‘Mr Gladstone,’ said Mr Churchill, ‘might I be so bold as to propose that you elevate me to the rank of Supreme Commander of all land, sea and air forces, that I might expedite matters swiftly and conclusively?’

  Mr Gladstone scarcely paused. ‘Why, certainly, sir,’ he said.

  ‘The responsibility will be mine,’ said Mr Churchill, bringing out his cigar case, selecting a fine Havana and slotting it into the corner of his mouth. ‘I have planned for such an eventuality as this. The Martian invasion caught us with our trousers around our ankles, so to speak. My apologies for the metaphor, dear lady.’

  Ada smiled at Mr Churchill. What a lovely fellow, she thought. How nice it would be to give him a little cuddle.

  ‘This time,’ said Mr Churchill, ‘we are ready.’

  ‘Are we?’ asked Mr Gladstone. ‘This is the first that I have heard of it.’

  ‘It is ten years since the Martian invasion,’ continued Mr Churchill, lighting up his cigar and puffing great plumes of smoke in Ada’s direction.

  What an absolute rotter, thought Ada. Correcting her earlier unspoken opinion.

  ‘During these ten years,’ said Mr Churchill, ‘I have initiated a defence strategy. With the aid of Mr Tesla and Mr Babbage here.’

  ‘Gentlemen?’ asked the Prime Minister.

  Mr Tesla said, ‘The Martian weaponry was superior to our own because they employed ionisation principles utilising a cross-polarisation of beta particles through the transperambulation of pseudo-cosmic anti-matter.’

  Mr Babbage nodded in agreement. ‘And very big Zo Zo guns,’ he said. ‘It is all very technical.’

  Mr Gladstone mopped at his brow once more.

  ‘The upshot,’ said Mr Churchill, puffing further smoke around and about, ‘is that heat weaponry of a most destructive nature is available to us for use against any invading armies.’

  ‘And the British taxpayer paid for this?’ asked Mr Gladstone.

  ‘Sir,’ said Mr Churchill, ‘the British taxpayer pays for everything.’

  Mr Gladstone nodded and asked Mr Churchill whether he might have a cigar to smoke also. As did Mr Babbage and Mr Tesla.

  Ada, who was now growing somewhat green in the face, asked whether a window might be opened. But Mr Babbage drew her attention to the singular lack of windows in the secret room. Which, at least, meant that he acknowledged her question.

  ‘Please continue, Mr Churchill,’ Mr Gladstone said.

  ‘A ring of steel,’ said Mr Churchill, ‘about the city of London. There are gun emplacements installed at secret locations all about the city. They can be manned and made active within a very short period of time.’

  ‘Do so,’ said Mr Gladstone. ‘Excellent cigar,’ he added.

  ‘Thank you, sir. We also have new mobile ground weapons. The Mark Five steam-driven Juggernaut tank, for instance. A fleet of armed airships standing by at Croydon Aerodrome. Our off-world attackers will get more than they bargained for. Some chicken, some neck, I am thinking.’

  ‘Regarding the chicken?’ Mr Gladstone asked. ‘I fail to understand.’

  ‘A catchphrase,’ explained Mr Churchill. ‘Everyone has one nowadays. Mr Wilde has, “Nothing to declare but my genius”. Little Tich says, “Ay-up, Mrs Merton, it’s only a saveloy.” I am working on one that goes, “Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few. Some chicken, some neck.”

  ‘I prefer the one about the saveloy,’ said Mr Gladstone. ‘But feel free to employ as many catchphrases as you wish, as long as the job gets done.’

  ‘Well, thank you, Prime Minister.’ Mr Churchill bowed once more, but as he was now all but invisible behind the pall of cigar smoke, no one saw him. ‘I might ask,’ he called out through the fug, ‘that anyone with a security rank beneath A-One be asked to leave the room, as matters appertaining to top-secret business must be discussed.’

  ‘I assume that means us,’ said Ada, coughing fitfully.

  ‘We will wait outside,’ agreed George, coughing also.
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  Blue smoke followed them into the corridor. A Gentleman in Black swung shut the door and stood before it, a large gun in his hand.

  Ada ceased coughing and fanned at her face. ‘What should we do now?’ she asked of George.

  ‘Get away from here,’ said her husband. ‘I do not know how much credence can be given to Mr Churchill’s claims, but I do know one thing.’

  ‘And that is?’ Ada asked, as George took her arm and steered her down the corridor.

  ‘That this building must be very high on the list of targets, for both the Venusian and Jupiterian forces.’