by carl ashmore
‘Bruce!’ Becky uttered.
Will fixed the arrow to the bowstring. ‘Stay!’
Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘You’re not doing this alone, Will, you can -’ Before he could finish, however, Will had leapt out. Swiftly, Uncle Percy picked up the short gangster’s pistol and turned to Becky and Joe. ‘Do-not-move!’ Then he raced after Will.
Becky’s heart thundered in her chest. Uncle Percy and Will had run blindly into a gunfight, outnumbered and poorly armed. Frantic, she watched as Associates and gangsters fired at Bruce, who dodged and weaved out of the way. Then she heard an agonising scream. Becky looked over to see a gangster clutching his hand, an arrow firmly embedded in its palm. Will was racing between parked cars, firing arrow after arrow at gangsters and Associates alike. Suddenly, all guns were trained on him. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. Will hurled himself behind a car, bullets shattering the windows above, showering him in glass. Uncle Percy fired back and raced to his side.
Seeing this, Bruce gunned Sweet Sue in their direction, shooting, reloading, and shooting again. Then he ran out of ammo. Casting the rifle aside, he leapt off the motorbike, and rolled to Uncle Percy’s left. ‘Howdy, boys.’ Then he pulled a colt pistol from his belt.
‘Hello, Bruce,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Lovely to see you.’
‘The feelin’s mutual, buddy.’
‘Er, what exactly are you doing here?’
‘Ol’ Maria told me where you’d gone. Had a hunch y’all might need a hand. Turns out, I was on the money.’
‘Well, thank you very much,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘But I assure you we would’ve been fine.’
‘Sure looks that way,’ Bruce quipped. ‘Besides, who could turn down the chance of an old school gunfight with Al Capone?’
A bullet whizzed past Uncle Percy’s ear. ‘All things being equal, I believe I could!’
*
Becky was panicking now. Uncle Percy, Will and Bruce had disappeared from sight and she had no idea if they were injured or worse. Then she saw Joe scrambling about on the floor, his hands rummaging beneath the tall gangster’s limp body. To her utter dismay, he was waving a gun.
‘That’ll do nicely,’ Joe said admiringly.
Becky looked horrified. ‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’
‘I’m gonna help.’
‘No you’re not,’ Becky barked at him. ‘What do you know about guns?’
‘I’ve completed level ten of Zombie Assassin.’
‘That’s a computer game, idiot,’ Becky snapped. ‘This is –’
But Joe didn’t listen; vaulting from his seat, he burst through the doors into the street.
‘If Al Capone doesn’t kill you, then I will,’ Becky grumbled, before rushing after him.
*
From the Cadillac, Chapman spied Becky leap out of the police van. His lips twitched into a smile. He leaned over to Otto Kruger, whispered something in his ear, then hoisted up his shirt sleeve to reveal what looked like an overly large wristwatch covered in numbers and symbols. Pressing six digits on the watch face, his hand was suddenly ablaze in fine streams of light, which then curled round his arm like a fiery snake, before enveloping his entire body.
*
The gunfight was at an impasse, when Uncle Percy glimpsed a light flare inside the Cadillac. At the same time, an identical blast erupted behind the police van, followed by an earsplitting snap. A few moments later, Chapman’s sneering voice could be heard all around. ‘This will cease now!’
Sick to his stomach, Uncle Percy watched as Joe moved into plain sight, head down, crestfallen and defeated. A second later, Becky followed him out, Chapman’s arm wrapped powerfully around her neck.
He was holding a scalpel to her throat.
- Chapter 17 -
2122 North Clark Street
‘WE SURRENDER!’ Uncle Percy shouted without hesitation. He stood up, threw his gun to the ground and held up his hands.
‘No!’ Becky yelled back. ‘Don’t you dare! Not on my account.’
Will looked over and sighed. Making sure he wasn’t seen, he unlooped the quiver and squeezed the Joe-Bow, which promptly retracted into its smaller form. Then he slipped them both into his pocket, before standing, hands raised. A disgruntled Bruce completed the surrender.
‘You didn’t have to do that for me,’ Becky said.
Uncle Percy ignored her. ‘We’ve surrendered, Chapman,’ he said. ‘Lower the knife.’
Chapman smiled nastily and leaned into Becky’s ear. ‘You may not like me now, but one day your heart will be mine.’ He let the scalpel fall to his side and weakened his grip on Becky’s neck.
The sweet, sickly smell of his cologne filled her nostrils as she wrenched herself away. Racing into Uncle Percy’s open arms, she felt contaminated, as if a thousand baths couldn’t wash Chapman’s stench from her.
Suddenly, the distant wail of police sirens cut the air. Moving quickly, Capone turned to one of his henchmen. ‘Frankie, get the wounded to Milwaukee Avenue. Get Doc Juliani to patch ‘em up. I’ll meet you at the Lexington in one hour. Anyone asks where I am, I’m in Florida, you follow?’
‘Right, boss,’ the gangster replied.
Capone turned to Uncle Percy. ‘Limey, I’m a reasonable guy, but one more stunt like that and I’ll crack all your skulls open with a bat. You catch my drift?’
‘Your drift is indeed caught,’ Uncle Percy replied flatly.
A few moments later, Becky trailed the others back into the police van. This time, however, Capone and two armed Associates accompanied them inside. Becky watched as Capone scolded the driver and the other two gangsters who had now regained consciousness but were still groggy. Then he sat down and waved his pistol at Sweet Sue, who lay in a gleaming heap on the roadside. ‘Hey, cowboy, where d’you get a motorcycle like that?’
‘A shop in Frisco,’ Bruce replied disdainfully. ‘Just overlookin’ Alcatraz Island. Maybe you’ll get to see it one day.’
Capone was about to respond when the sound of sirens swelled outside. ‘2122 North Clark Street. NOW!’ he bellowed at the driver.
Before Becky could catch her breath, they were hurtling through the city at a breakneck speed. Snow was falling now like icing sugar, coating the landscape in a silvery haze as the tall, grand buildings of the city center were replaced by smaller residential properties.
Becky had no idea how long they’d been driving when the van pulled up in front of a large redbrick building, the Cadillac trailing close behind. A thin, pointy-faced gangster wearing a gray fedora hat opened a set of heavy wooden doors. The van turned into the building and continued down a steep incline into a sprawling dimly lit warehouse.
Numb with fear, Becky looked around. Naked bulbs hung from the ceiling, illuminating a large truck, chained to which was a German Shepherd dog that barked noisily as it paced in a circle. Then she shivered with horror. Three of Capone’s men were pointing machine guns at seven disheveled looking men sat on the floor, their hands bound with thick rope. She remembered Uncle Percy had mentioned seven victims during the Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre. But where did it leave them? She glanced at Uncle Percy, looking for some semblance of hope. She didn’t see any.
Capone threw open the van’s doors and growled, ‘What’re you jerks waitin’ for?’
Becky followed the others out. Looking over, she saw Chapman exit the Cadillac, glance at his wristwatch and whisper something to Otto Kruger, who nodded his agreement. Then Chapman marched over, his scalpel glinting in the half-light and grabbed Uncle Percy’s arm, dragging him out of earshot.
‘I shall make this perfectly simple, Mister Halifax,’ Chapman said when he was certain he couldn’t be heard. ‘You know only too well who I am and what I’m capable of doing. What I enjoy doing. The simple truth is, you will die here this very morning, in this warehouse, beside your archer friend and the cowboy. The children, however, will be leaving with me.’
To Chapman’s frustration, Uncle Percy looked calm
, serene even. ‘That’s not going to happen, I’m afraid.’
Chapman’s temple twitched. ‘Oh, but it is.’ His eyes flitted over to Becky. ‘And whether I introduce the girl to my blade or not depends on the answer you give to this question: What do you know of the Box of Eternity?’
‘The Box of Eternity, eh? Is that what we’re calling it? Anyway, I know very little. I know you’re looking for it. I also know that I’ll find it before you do, and Emerson Drake will be denied another one of his little relics.’
‘Your self-assurance surprises me, Mister Halifax,’ Chapman sneered. ‘Surely it’s somewhat unfounded considering your death is but seconds away.’
‘Heard it all before, George,’ Uncle Percy replied. Then his voice lowered to a whisper. ‘And if you remember, I’m a time traveller. A second is an age…’
Chapman laughed coldly before turning to Capone. ‘Mister Capone, shall we execute Mister Drake’s plan.’
Snatching a rifle from one of his men, Capone aimed it at Uncle Percy, Will and Bruce. ‘Against the wall, boys. Fraid you’ve made yourself some pretty powerful enemies. Ones that pay well, too…’
On Chapman’s signal, an Associate advanced on Becky. Before she knew it, powerful arms had enfolded her. ‘Get off me!’ she screamed, kicking and punching wildly as she was carried away from the wall.
A second Associate moved towards Joe, but Joe anticipated it and threw a punch. With a sneer, the Associate caught Joe’s fist and twisted it behind his back.
‘Arghh,’ Joe shrieked in pain.
Will made to leap at Joe’s attacker when Uncle Percy’s firm hand held him back. ‘No, Will,’ he pressed in a low voice. ‘Remember what I showed you last week!’ Then he shouted over to Becky and Joe. ‘Don’t struggle, Becky, Joe. Everything’s just fine. It’s all in hand… No biggie!’
Capone began to laugh. ‘Just fine, he says.’ He looked over at one of his men. ‘Hey, Mikey. Looks like we got ourselves a comedian.’
‘Sure looks that way, boss,’ the gangster replied.
Instantly the smile fell from Capone’s face. ‘Sadly for you, limey, I ain’t in a jokin’ mood.’ He cocked the gun.
Becky’s mouth went dry
Uncle Percy, however, looked unflustered. ‘Now if we’re going to do this properly, I believe it’s courtesy to allow the condemned man a few last words.’
Chapman’s eyes narrowed. ‘Shoot him, Capone. Do it now!’
Capone ignored him. ‘Last words?’
‘Well –word, really …’ Uncle Percy cleared his throat and held up his hand as if ushering someone over. ‘Taxi!’
Just then, Becky saw something gleam silver in his hand: his car keys.
All of a sudden, a snap echoed outside, followed by the roar of an engine and a piercing squeal. BOOOOM! The garage doors exploded and Beryl emerged through a cloud of splinters and dust. She thundered down the slope to be met by a mass of incredulous faces, screeching to a halt between Uncle Percy and Capone. A single beep of her horn blasted out and her front and rear doors shot open.
Uncle Percy turned to Will. ‘Now, would you care to do your thing, William?’
‘As you wish,’ Will replied, pulling the Joe-Bow from his pocket. It extended in his grip.
Bewildered and disorientated, Capone saw Will fix an arrow to his bowstring. Promptly, he raised the gun and took aim, but it was too late. As his finger found the trigger, Will unleashed an arrow. Slicing the air, it shot up the gun’s barrel. Capone pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing happened.
Joe panted with astonishment.
It was the single best shot he had ever seen.
Gangsters and Associates alike began to grasp just what was happening.
‘Becky, Joe ... jump in,’ Uncle Percy yelled.
Becky dived on to Bertha’s back seat, followed by Joe, who slammed the door shut behind him. PEOWW. A bullet cracked against Beryl’s side window. To Becky’s amazement, it didn’t shatter. A split second later, a storm of bullets thumped into Beryl. The noise was deafening. However, not a single bullet penetrated the bodywork. Beryl was bulletproof!
‘In you go, Bruce!’ Uncle Percy shouted, pushing a disorientated Bruce onto the backseat. Then he jumped onto the driver’s seat and looked back at Will, who had just loaded another arrow. ‘Will…We’re leaving. Get in!’
Will didn’t hear him. His eyes had found Otto Kruger. As if in slow motion, both men stared at each other. Then Kruger raised his pistol quickly, cocking the hammer. Not having time to ready his aim, Will let an arrow fly. BANG! The bullet missed. Kruger was about to take a second shot when - whizz – the arrow sliced his right cheek. Blood splashed his face.
‘Get in, Will. Now!’ Uncle Percy yelled again.
This time, Will heard him and, grinning at the bloodied Kruger, threw himself into the time machine.
Relieved they were all safe, Becky’s gaze fell on the seven prisoners. ‘We must save them.’
Uncle Percy shook his head as he typed on to Barbie’s timepad. ‘I’m sorry, Becky, I really am,’ he said sadly. ‘But they’re history....’
Becky didn’t have time to protest, when streams of light filled the taxi. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chapman, his teeth bared with rage, let out a wild, guttural scream.
Then, with a crack, Beryl vanished, leaving nothing but an empty space.
*
What none of them could possibly have known was what happened next: a crazed Chapman heaved the prisoners to their feet and lined them up against the garage wall. Snatching a Tommy gun from one of Capone’s men, he fired mercilessly at them, again and again, until each one of them slumped to the ground.
The dog was the only survivor.
- Chapter 18 -
Israel’s Message
Becky stared at the Time Room walls, her pulse racing as she grasped for breath. Glancing round, she saw disbelief on everyone’s faces as they struggled to grasp their safe return to Bowen Hall. The sudden silence seemed as disturbing as the thunder of gunshots from which they had just escaped. Slowly, dazed, they exited the time machine.
‘Well, that was hair-raising stuff, wasn’t it?’ Uncle Percy said, blood returning to his cheeks. ‘Still, we’re home, safe and sound. No harm, no foul.’
Everyone stared blankly at him. Then Joe spoke up. ‘But what about the painting? In case you hadn’t noticed, Chapman’s got it.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that. As a matter of fact, I would say everything worked out as planned.’
‘So you planned on a shootout with Al Capone?’ Becky replied flatly. ‘Coulda done with knowing about that one.’
‘No … granted, that was unforeseen,’ Uncle Percy admitted. ‘But let’s just say I did anticipate certain events that may come as something of a surprise to you.’
Joe was getting exasperated now. ‘What are you jabbering on about?’
‘All in good time, Joe. All in good time.’
Normally, Becky would have been annoyed by Uncle Percy’s evasiveness, but at that moment there was only one thing on her mind. ‘Who’s George Chapman?’
Uncle Percy shrugged indifferently. ‘Let’s worry about him later.’
Becky wasn’t nearly satisfied. ‘I think we should worry about him now!’
‘Really?’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I don’t.’
Feeling her temper rise, Becky was about to give him a piece of her mind when Joe interjected. ‘And how did Beryl just appear like that?’
‘Ah, I’m glad you asked,’ Uncle Percy replied, seemingly relieved he didn’t have to answer to Becky. ‘I’ve only just installed the system, actually. Embedded within Beryl’s circuitry, is a voice remodulation device, a temporally autorated Intronicater, and a biogene locator. All of which is a very long-winded way of saying that this -’ He held up his key fob, ‘- is a very sophisticated dog whistle. I shout Taxi and Beryl comes running.’
‘Wicked,’ Joe said, nodding his appreciation.
‘You really are a tota
l egghead, Perce,’ Bruce said. ‘I gotta get me one of those fixed to Sweet Sue.’
‘I’d be delighted to install it for you, Bruce.’
‘Thank you kindly,’ Bruce said. ‘Which reminds me … any chance I can use a Portravella to go and get her?’
‘Of course.’
‘Excuse me,’ Becky interrupted, rather irritably. ‘But will you answer my question. Who is George - ’
Just then, Barbie’s head popped up from behind a workstation. ‘Nice to have you back, sir.’
Becky growled with frustration.
‘It’s nice to be back, Barbie,’ Uncle Percy replied.
‘I judge from your rapidly decreasing heart-rates, you’ve been engaged in some incident of note.’
‘You could say that, Barbie.’
Barbie seemed confused. ‘I believe I just did, sir.’
‘It’s just an expression, Barbie. It means ‘to agree.’’
‘Very well, sir. I shall update my linguistic databank.’
‘It was pretty ace, Barbie,’ Joe said, beginning to feel his normal self. ‘We fought Al Capone, battled this scalpel-wielding nutter with a moustache like a dead hamster, and sliced off half of Otto Kruger’s face.’
Barbie bowed. ‘Then Barbie is delighted Master Joseph survived the extreme violence.’ Just then, the workstation gave three shrill rings and the words, ‘Incoming Call’ flashed across the screen.
Uncle Percy looked rather surprised. ‘Would you get that, please, Barbie?’
‘Certainly, sir.’ Barbie’s blue eyes gleamed amber. ‘Keith Pickleton is requesting a landing pass for the Time Room. Shall I input the grounding code into his precognator?’
‘If you would, my dear.’
A second later, a milk float materialised to Beryl’s left.
Keith Pickleton was sat in the driver’s seat, a look of deep concern on his round, fleshy face. Looking over at the group, his expression changed. ‘Oh, thank goodness,’ he said with relief. ‘You’re safe. I was getting worried. I’d heard there was a gun fight on Eighth Street -’
