by Rod Rees
Knowing the difficulties they’d had manoeuvring the Wu on their journey from St Petersburg, Trixie realised that there was little chance of them being able to circle around to pick up the pontoon. At the best of times the ship took an age to execute a full turn, and with the damage sustained when it had rammed the Monitor, she had become even more reluctant to answer the helm. The other consideration was, of course, that there were other Monitors out there … other Monitors that were now, no doubt, steaming in the Wu’s direction. The one course Trixie saw open to her was to run – or rather limp – for it.
‘What now?’ yelled Wysochi as he directed fire crews towards the blaze that was threatening to engulf the engine room. ‘Lookouts report seeing a second Monitor steaming to bring the pontoon under tow, so it’s a penny wins a pound that the UnFunnies will be taking the Column to Terror Incognita.’
‘Then that’s where we’ve got to go. Steer a course to Terror Incognita.’
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:30
Watching as his priests dragged the woeMan who had been Doge IMmanual to the altar, the Grand Mufti sensed the ceremony building to its climax in a most satisfactory manner. If he was not very much mistaken, the sheen that swathed the Mantle-ite walls of the Temple had begun to glow a deeper green, pulsing with occult energy, the energy he would unleash on the stroke of midnight.
He looked towards the priest he had placed in charge of the wheel that governed the lowering of the Column, making sure that the Man was alert and ready. At midnight the Column would be set in its final position on its plinth and once this was done, the awesome power of the Temple would be activated. Then none would be able to prevent the triumph of HimPerialism, none would be able to dispute that Man was the master of the Demi-Monde.
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:30
In Norma’s opinion, Sporting sang even better than she had done at the Canterbury Theatre and the sound of thousands of voices joining in on the choruses made for a thrilling experience. The remarkable thing was that Sporting had done it without making a single joke at the expense of Heydrich or any of his cronies. For once the Naughty Nightingale had been a good girl.
But now, as the final chords of ‘Falling in Love Again’ died away, Norma knew this was her moment of truth. She patted her blonde wig and made a final check of her dress, a dress which she and Odette had spent hours agonising over, debating whether to err on the side of the risqué or on the side of the conservative. In the end, the white lace number she was wearing fell somewhere between the two: it was tight enough to show off her figure, but not reckless enough to distract from the seriousness of what she would be saying. She looked, according to Odette, like an angel.
‘And now, lads and lasses,’ she heard Sporting bellow into her microphone, her amplified voice booming out to every corner of the huge hall, ‘I ‘ave a special treat for yous. This lovely little lady ‘as come a long way to be wiv us tonight, so I want you to give a right big ForthRight welcome to … MISS AALIZ HEYDRICH!’
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:30
Heydrich jumped, spilling Solution over his immaculately pressed trousers. He hardly noticed: all his attention was riveted on the girl who stepped out from the wings to stand centre stage, the light behind her making her blonde hair glow like a halo around her head. With a trembling hand he raised his opera glasses.
It was Aaliz. Her blonde hair was the same, her gait was the same … everything was the same. And when she opened her mouth to speak into the microphone, she used the identical and oh-so-refined Anglo accent his daughter had used.
But it couldn’t be her. Aaliz’s spirit was in the Real World and her body was being cared for in Wewelsburg Castle. It had to be the Daemon, Norma Williams, a supposition confirmed when the bitch spoke.
‘I am Aaliz Heydrich and I stand here tonight to implore all you brave soldiers of the ForthRight to lay down your weapons and refuse to fight for those scoundrels who have taken control of Rodina and the Rookeries.’
‘Switch off that microphone and arrest the bitch!’ Heydrich screamed as he sprang to his feet. Minions scuttled off to do his bidding, leaving the Great Leader standing red-faced and near-apoplectic as he stared in impotent rage across the vastness of the Crystal Palace at his faux-daughter.
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:30
There was no reaction to what Norma had said; it was as though everyone in the vast hall had been stricken mute. Swallowing her terror, she moved closer to the microphone and began to speak in a louder voice. ‘I stood beside my father when he issued his orders to destroy the poor people of Warsaw; I listened to him when he demanded that the CitiZens of the Quartier Chaud be decimated for having the temerity to oppose him; I witnessed the bile he uttered when he condemned the people of the Coven to destruction; and I know the contempt in which he holds all of you when he sends you to your death.’
The audience began to stir. Mutterings rippled through the packed ranks of the audience and though sergeants screamed at the soldiers to be quiet, with every second that passed the grumbling grew in volume.
‘But how can it be otherwise when we live in a Crowocracy?’ Norma paused to allow the word to sink in. ‘A Crowocracy, you ask? Remember your collective nouns: a group of crows is a murder of crows, therefore, by my lexicon, a Crowocracy is government by murderers. A government like the one that rules the ForthRight, a government to whom a life is as nothing, to whom a life can be stubbed out on a whim.’ She pointed up to the balcony where Heydrich was sitting. ‘As our leaders gaze down from their Olympian heights, they don’t see people with hopes and feelings … they see nothings, nothings that can be erased with no more thought and no more compassion than they would give to stepping on an ant. In a Crowocracy, the world is awash with nothings.’ Here she gestured to the audience. ‘We are all, in the view of my father and his disciples, nothings.’
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:30
‘Stop her! Silence her! Shoot her!’ screamed Heydrich. Von Sternberg jumped up from his chair and began to frantically organise his Checkya agents, yelling orders and pushing and shoving his men to the front of the balcony where they could get a better shot at the girl. Unfortunately even while he was doing this, ‘Aaliz’ kept right on speaking.
‘Reinhard Heydrich wishes to conquer the Demi-Monde, a conquest to be bought with your deaths. So I ask you: why? Why can’t the peoples of the Demi-Monde live in peace? Why must there be continual war? Why must we celebrate the power of the strong and the subjugation of the weak? I, Aaliz Heydrich, reject my father and his foul philosophy of UnFunDaMentalism and I ask you to do the same. I stand before you as a convert to the creed of non-violence that is Normalism and as a Normalist I tell you that by turning to violence as a solution to their problems Demi-Mondians have become one with the beasts … become one with the Beast.’
What the girl was saying obviously had a resonance with the audience. Even as he watched goggle-eyed, Heydrich saw soldiers begin to climb onto the stage to show their support for the girl, milling around her as makeshift bodyguards.
‘Shoot the bitch!’ Heydrich screamed at the Checkya marksmen who were rushing to take up position.
‘We can’t get a clear shot, Great Leader,’ protested von Sternberg, ‘there are too many people standing—’
‘Shoot them, shoot everybody, just kill the girl!’
‘We must resist evil without becoming evil; we must resist violence without becoming violent; we must resist the Beast without becoming like the Beast. Normalism is on the march: already Empress Dong E has proclaimed it to be the new religion of the Coven and our comrades in the Quartier Chaud have flocked to the Church of Normalism. So I ask the soldiers of the ForthRight to lay down your weapons.’ She paused, then threw her arms wide as though embracing all her audience. ‘I ask the soldiers of the ForthRight, are you with me?’
As the Crystal Palace reverberated to the cheers of the soldiers, the Checkya marksmen fired.
THE DIVINE WAY LEADING TO TH
E TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:50
In Selim’s considered opinion, it was unseemly for a Man intent on maintaining his Cool ever to be seen hurrying. Tonight though he had no option but to run the whole length of the Divine Way. He arrived at the gates of the Temple breathless and frantic, and certainly not in a frame of mind to be delayed by the two HimPeril agents who were on sentry duty.
‘Out of my way!’ he yelled. ‘Open the gates.’
‘Ah ain’t authorised to do dat. Ah am under strict orders from His HimPerial Reverence de Grand Mufti Mohammed al-Mahdi himself dat wunce de ceremony has commenced no wun, but no wun—’
The agent’s objections were cut short when Selim drove a dagger into his neck.
‘Get these fucking gates open!’ he screamed at the second guard, and the man, quite understandably, did as he was told.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:50
With every eye in the place directed towards what was happening on the altar, Vanka knew it was now or never. He moved nearer to the Column, trying to find the courage to act.
And act he would have to do. Even as he watched, Doge William came to stand over Ella and then take up the long-bladed dagger he was offered by the Grand Mufti. This he raised high above his head, readying himself to make the awful thrust that would snuff out Ella’s life.
Without thinking Vanka hurled himself forward and shoulder-charged the Shade, sending him flying.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:50
For a moment the Grand Mufti was too shocked to speak. The man currently struggling with Doge William had appeared out of nowhere and was now threatening to disrupt the entire ceremony.
He waved to two of his priests. ‘Seize the man! Protect the Doge. And you,’ here he pointed to the priest in charge of the wheel controlling the Column, ‘lower the Column!’ Yes, the Column was the important thing: nothing must be allowed to prevent the Column unlocking the power of the Temple.
‘Stop!’ came a shout from the direction of the Temple’s entrance and when the Grand Mufti looked up he was amazed to see a very dishevelled Selim striding towards him. ‘The Column is a bomb. For ABBA’s sake don’t lower it. Save His HimPerial Majesty!’
The word ‘bomb’ had a magical effect on the four hundred people gathered in the Temple. In an instant panic rippled through the crowd and there was a shouting, screaming rush towards the Temple doors. The problem was that the doors opened inwards and the more people there were pushing against them, the more difficult it became for the guards to open them. It was a situation made all the more confused when HimPeril agents rushed towards Shaka Zulu intent on leading him to safety, smashing aside any who got in their way with their knobkerries. The crowd fought back, a brazier was tipped over and flames began to flicker around the wooden supports of the balcony. Panic gave way to a terror-stricken stampede.
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:50
It was the group of soldiers who had clambered on stage to stand guard on Norma who took the brunt of the rifle fire that smashed down from the balcony. And as they fell so the mood of the rest of the soldiers gathered in the hall changed. Enraged soldiers started to fire back at the Checkya riflemen, sending the dignitaries gathered on the balcony diving for cover, and when a Checkya detachment tried to force their way through the crowd by beating at the soldiers with their rifle butts, the soldiers beat back with chairs and bottles and anything else that came to hand. In an instant the Crystal Palace was reduced to a heaving cauldron of fighting men.
The Checkya squad von Sternberg had sent to turn off Norma’s microphone faced similar problems. The only place it was possible to do the turning off was in the booth next to the stage, a booth which had been commandeered by Burlesque and Odette, both of whom had armed themselves with large pistols.
‘Time to go, Odette, my luv,’ announced Burlesque and after trading a few shots with the Checkya the pair of them used the chaos to slip out of the sound booth, run up onto the stage, gather up Norma who was standing at the microphone appealing for calm, and race for the exit.
They almost made it.
THE CRYSTAL PALACE, LONDON: 23:50
Empress Borgia wasn’t sure what was happening. One moment she was watching the Naughty Nightingale and the next she was in the middle of a firefight with bullets whipping around her ears. She looked around to ask advice from the Great Leader, only to find him cowering on the floor.
‘What—’ she began but the bullet that hit her square between the eyes meant she never finished the question.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:55
Selim barged his way through the crowd, cursing their cowardice, cursing the fact that he had spooked the audience by using the word ‘bomb’. But that didn’t matter; now all that mattered was that he prevent the Column being lowered. It was obvious to him that Kondratieff would have designed the bomb’s detonator to be activated by a surge of Mantle-ite energy. He had to keep the Column disconnected from the Temple.
He got to the wheel, shoved the priest guarding it aside then snatched up a discarded assegai and slammed the steel point into the cogs of the gear mechanism that raised and lowered the Column, jamming it. Now no one would be able to lower the Column.
He’d done it! He’d saved Shaka Zulu!
His relief was short-lived. The guard he had manhandled, believing him to be another of the terrorists disrupting the ceremony, smashed his knobkerrie hard down on the Grand Vizier’s head, killing him instantly.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: 23:55
Drugged as she was, Ella was finding it difficult to think straight; it was as though her brain had been turned to mush and her body had been deprived of all its energy. She was content to lie on the altar and simply watch the world go by. Sure, she knew that her brother was intent on killing her, but really there wasn’t much she could be persuaded to do about it.
Vanka changed all that.
Vanka had popped out of nowhere and although he didn’t do a particularly good job of knocking over Billy – but then Vanka had never been great at anything that even hinted at violence – he was at least trying to rescue her. Vanka had always been there when she needed him … he had even been there when she hadn’t needed him. Vanka had never given up on her. And now it was her turn not to give up on him.
She looked up and saw that Billy had got back to his feet and recovered the knife he had been intent on using to kill her. It was a knife he now seemed determined to stick into an unarmed Vanka.
Summoning all her strength, Ella levered her protesting body off the altar and staggered towards the two men. She managed to blindside Billy, taking the chance to ram a fist hard into his stomach. Even Billy’s beautifully toned abdominals couldn’t protect him from an unexpected fist in the guts: he buckled over, his cheeks blew out and he dropped the knife. Ella stooped down to take hold of the discarded weapon and moved to stand at Vanka’s side.
‘Vanka … it’s me, Ella,’ she shouted. ‘We’ve gotta get going.’
Vanka shook his head. ‘No, I’ve got to release the Column … it’s a bomb … I promised Kondratieff.’ He gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘I love you, Ella. You go … save yourself.’
Ella laughed. ‘Don’t be stupid, Vanka. I lost you once and I’m not going to lose you again. We’re going to go together. Release the Column, I’ll keep the bad guys off your back.’
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: midnight
Billy straightened up just thankful that Ella had punched him in the stomach and not the nuts. He looked over to the Column to see Ella defending the tall, rangy guy who had bowled him over and who was trying to work the wheel that lowered the Column. Grabbing a sword from a guard, Billy decided that now was the time for a little slice-and-dice action. He was sick to the back teeth of Ella raining on his parade. Now the bitch was going to pay.
THE TEMPLE OF LILITH: midnight
It was an instinct for self-preservation that made Ella look around and then dodge the thrust of Billy’s sword. She raised her knife to parry his next lunge and for an
instant steel locked with steel, the pair of them coming so close that Ella could smell the stench of hate on Billy and feel his sweet breath on her cheek. It was a trial of strength, each pushing at the other, trying to unbalance their opponent, testing who was the more powerful.
Finally she managed to break away, skipping back out of range of the thrust of Billy’s deadly blade.
‘Yo, bitch, yo’ ain’t never had the beating of me,’ Billy snarled and then he was at her, flicking his sword at her eyes.
As she tried to defend herself from the attack, Ella knew that one false step, one mistimed riposte and she would be finished. She felt heavy, sluggish … weak. With a shake of her head she tried to drive the torpor from her mind, tried to concentrate on the fight. In a few moments one of them would be dead and she was determined that it would not be her.
Billy circled her like a cat, always moving to the left away from Ella’s knife hand, his blade rotating slowly around, its savagely sharp point inscribing languid patterns in the air. Suddenly he darted forward, his sword moving like quicksilver as he tried to pierce Ella’s guard, moving so fast that all she could do was reel back, hewing as she went, hoping, praying, that it would be enough to parry the thrust.
It was, but only just – the tip of Billy’s blade sliced along her knife hand, the red-hot pain making her shriek in agony. Eyes flashing in triumph, Billy was on her, driving his sword at her guts, trying to end it. Ignoring the scalding pain of her hand, Ella hacked his blade away and then rammed her own knife forward, stabbing at Billy’s face. But Billy was too strong. Almost disdainfully he parried the stroke and then came at Ella again, his blade everywhere, forcing her to retreat towards the Column.
