The Clown Service

by Guy Adams

  ‘You’re not making me feel any better.’

  ‘In truth, neither would the gun. It would be no more use to you in a situation like this than a roughly sharpened pencil. In fact, the pencil would be better … Easier to draw with than your finger.’

  The clattering noise increased. A cacophony of splintered brick and snapped wood.

  ‘And drawing helps?’ asked Toby.

  ‘It might. Stand inside the circle and keep your feet within the line.’

  ‘You’re asking me to just stand still and wait for whatever that is?’

  ‘I am, and because you’re clever enough to realise that while you may not be trained to face whatever it is, I am, you’ll do it. Now.’

  Toby stepped inside the rough circle Shining had drawn. ‘I still think I’d have preferred the gun.’

  Shining was moving around on his hands and knees, adding embellishments to the circle, swirls and symbols.

  ‘That Egyptian?’ Toby asked.

  ‘Sumerian.’

  ‘Great. I work in British Intelligence and my section head is writing in Iraqi.’

  ‘Very ancient Iraqi.’

  There was one more crashing noise and then it was replaced with the sound of hooves. Dust poured in torrents from the ceiling.

  ‘A horse,’ said Toby. ‘Somebody’s riding a horse up there.’

  ‘No, that would be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear you say that.’

  ‘Not somebody, something. You’d never get a real horse and rider up those stairs.’

  Toby shook his head and stared at his feet. ‘I am imagining this, aren’t I? Like the story you told me yesterday. This is a hallucination, a trick.’

  ‘Possibly, but I don’t think so.’

  ‘You said it wasn’t a real horse and rider …’

  ‘That doesn’t mean they’re a figment of your imagination. Now shush a minute, I need to concentrate.’

  ‘Shush a minute?’

  The sound of horse’s hooves increased in volume as whatever it was galloped across the length of the floor above, heading towards the stairs.

  ‘It’s coming.’

  ‘I know, and you need to not look.’

  ‘What?’

  The hooves began to descend the stairs, Toby saw a glimpse of old bone in the pale light that cut through the shadows.

  ‘It’s important, Toby. You mustn’t look at it. Close your eyes, stare at your feet – whatever you find easier, but do not look directly at it.’

  ‘Why?’ The hooves descended even further, a thin band of the horse’s chest now visible, a ragged thing of butchered meat.

  ‘Because it doesn’t need to touch you to kill you.’ Shining stood in front of Toby and grasped the young man’s head in his hands. ‘Look at the floor.’ He forced Toby’s head forward. ‘Describe your shoes.’

  ‘What do you mean “describe my shoes”? What earthly fucking point is there in my describing my shoes?’

  ‘Please, Toby, trust me and do it.’

  Toby gave a slight nod but Shining continued to hold his head.

  ‘Light brown, scuffed. Mismatched laces. I always snap the laces and end up having to replace them. Should replace the shoes too. I get through them so quickly, always buy chain store cheap. Something about the way I walk wears the heel down at an angle. Before you know it I’m on a tilt every time I stand still. What’s the point in spending real money on them?’

  The hooves had reached the bottom of the stairway. Their progress slow now, and steady.

  ‘Keep talking,’ said Shining. ‘In what way do you walk funny?’

  ‘I don’t know. Not something I’m aware of. It’s only looking at the shoes that you notice. Forty-five degree angle worn out on each heel. Right in the corner.’

  ‘Do you get back pain?’

  The hooves continued towards them. No urgency, just a gentle, casual trot across the cement floor.

  ‘Let me guess: you’re a trained chiropractor too?’

  ‘Not sure I go along with chiropractic medicine, actually.’

  ‘I used to think that, but I went to a guy once – when I was having real back trouble – and he sorted me out a treat.’

  ‘I suppose there may be benefits as an art of physical manipulation. It’s the notion of “Innate Intelligence” I struggle with – the idea that manipulating the spine can cure your kidney troubles.’

  ‘I don’t know about all that. But I went in with back pain and I came out without it.’

  ‘Fair enough. I can be too much of a cynic sometimes.’

  Toby and Shining looked at one another and Toby actually felt himself laugh. ‘You’re a mad old bastard, you know that?’

  ‘I do.’

  The hooves circled them.

  ‘Ignore it,’ Shining insisted as Toby’s head twitched towards the noise. ‘It’s nothing to us. A passer-by. Beneath our attention.’

  Toby nodded.

  ‘My sister,’ said Shining, ‘now she’s a great believer in alternative medicine. I once had to spend an hour having tea with her in Claridge’s with twenty acupuncture needles dangling from her face. The waiting staff ignored it completely of course, even though she kept getting bits of scone stuck on the tips.’

  ‘What’s your sister’s name?’

  ‘Have a guess.’

  ‘June?’

  ‘Two months out. She’s April.’

  ‘Your parents really didn’t like to think too hard about names, did they?’

  ‘Their minds were on other things. I’m lucky I wasn’t born a week later. September Shining – sounds like a Coldplay album.’

  The hooves finished their circuit. The horse whinnied, the sound wet and raw.

  ‘Thank you for not suggesting I was too old to have heard of Coldplay,’ Shining continued. ‘My ears are still functioning perfectly.’

  ‘Not if they’re listening to Coldplay, they’re not.’

  ‘You prefer Beethoven, I suppose?’

  ‘Piss off.’

  ‘Sorry … Ludwig.’

  ‘You’re forgiven … September.’

  ‘So what music do you like?’

  ‘I don’t know … all sorts …’

  ‘Please tell me you’re not the sort of man who just listens to the radio and occasionally digs out his two CDs, one of James Bond themes and the other Queen’s Greatest Hits?’

  ‘No. I like a lot of music. It’s just all a bit—’

  The horse whinnied again, this time followed by the sound of something fleshy hitting the floor.

  ‘—strange. I like atmospheres. Weird sounds. A lot of movie soundtracks. Tom Waits … Love Tom Waits.’

  ‘“Innocent When You Dream” was always one of my favourites. Rather apt with people running through a graveyard.’

  ‘You know him then? Don’t suppose he’s one of your agents?’

  ‘Sadly not … he works out of Langley.’

  The hooves began to retreat. Slow, reluctant, heading back towards the stairs.

  ‘It’s going,’ said Toby.

  ‘It is.’ The hooves began to ascend the stairs once more. ‘But don’t relax just yet.’

  ‘As if I would.’

  There was a final, terrible cry from the horse and then the hooves galloped across the floor above and there was a loud crash as it departed their world.

  Both men sagged against one another in relief.

  ‘And you think you haven’t got what it takes to survive in Section 37?’ said Shining. ‘I think you’re a natural.’

  ‘Why am I not finding that a comfort?’

  ‘The day you get comfortable with any of this would be the day you’d be in the most danger. I’ve been up to my neck in the impossible for fifty years and it still gives me the willies.’

  ‘What was that thing?’

  ‘Angel of Death – at least, an exceptionally clichéd manifestation of it.’

  ‘Angels? I have to believe in angels now?’

  ‘Just a
name. Magic is all about personality and preconception. That trap was laid by a traditionalist – it was a pure dose of Dennis Wheatley.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A writer, prone to bursts of occult enthusiasm, extremely popular in the twentieth century. Doesn’t matter. My point is that magic tells you less about itself than about the user. The same force could appear in countless different ways, reflecting the tastes – the fears – of the person activating it.’

  ‘So we’re looking for an old gymkhana rider?’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I was told Section 37 was where they put the clowns; I was just trying to fit in.’

  ‘The Clown Service? I rather like that …’

  ‘That’s because you have the thickest skin in intelligence. Are we safe now?’

  Shining looked around. ‘I think so. Magic is also all about energy. You don’t waste it. What we experienced would almost certainly have been more than enough security to keep the casual intruder at bay.’

  He stepped outside of the circle and motioned for Toby to do the same. ‘Mind the edges though; better to leave it intact in case we need it again.’

  ‘How does it work? The circle, I mean.’

  ‘For all that magic may seem chaotic, it’s bound very heavily by rules. Like any science. Accept that the horse and rider were manifestations, rather than literal things – the mask a certain force chose to wear. The mask I chose to face it with is the circle in the dust. It’s all about the principle. Old magic responds to old symbology. A spiritual firewall that the occult virus respects and does not cross.’

  ‘So it could have crossed it?’

  ‘Of course – it’s just a line in the dirt. But it never would. It’s an agreement. Rules must always be obeyed.’

  ‘If the occult is nothing but red tape, perhaps I have been trained in it after all. So is this the same warehouse you were monitoring all those years ago?’

  ‘The very same. Which is terribly interesting. I wouldn’t have expected it to have been preserved all this time.’ They quartered the large room, examining everything, Shining continuing to voice his thoughts. ‘Unless it was just never cleaned up? No. Someone would have had to come along and hide the place away … And they would have had to do that after I was last here … But who could have done that?’

  ‘Krishnin?’

  Shining turned and looked at Toby. ‘Couldn’t be. Krishnin’s dead.’

  ‘Can you be sure?’

  ‘Pretty sure, seeing that I killed him.’

  Toby had no idea how to respond to that. Even though Shining had admitted to having blood on his hands – who didn’t in this business? – Toby still couldn’t picture him as a killer.

  ‘I had no choice,’ Shining added, perhaps seeing the look on the young man’s face.

  ‘You don’t have to justify it.’

  ‘Not to you, perhaps.’

  They moved towards the stairs.

  ‘You sure it’s safe to go up there now?’ Toby asked.

  ‘No,’ Shining admitted, ‘but there’s nothing down here.’

  The old man smiled and led the way up the ancient steps. He stopped halfway and looked back at Toby who had yet to start climbing. ‘If you want to wait down there, I don’t mind.’

  ‘Not a chance. Just thought I’d hang back till you’d tested how rotten the wood is.’

  ‘If I die, you’re out of a job.’

  ‘You say that as if it would be a bad thing.’

  Once Shining had reached the top floor, Toby followed. He weighed more and the wood creaked under every step.

  The second floor was clearly empty. Light shone from the wide-open hatchway leading out to the ancient hoist. Several floorboards were missing, but Toby made his careful way over and looked out, gazing down on the street below. He watched a car make its ignorant way past them. A young couple wrestling with a map were clearly trying to find their way back to the tourist attractions. Toby paid careful attention as they drew up beneath him.

  ‘I wonder what would happen if I dropped something on them,’ he speculated. ‘Would they notice us then?’

  ‘Probably,’ said Shining. ‘As I said before, it’s all about perception. They have been persuaded not to notice us, that’s all. Same trick I used on the train.’

  ‘The train?’

  ‘Didn’t you notice the total lack of attention from other passengers yesterday?’

  Toby admitted he had. ‘I thought they were just being typical Londoners.’

  ‘That makes it easier, certainly. This city is programmed to mind its own business. But the extra nudge I gave them meant we could talk in private.’

  ‘Like Cyril? The man you told me about yesterday?’

  ‘Ah, poor Cyril. That was more a natural gift, though he certainly learned to emphasise it. Truth is: it’s not difficult to make people refuse to acknowledge something, even if it’s right in front of them.’ Shining shrugged. ‘I think that sums up my career in one sentence.’

  ‘Yeah, I was wondering about that. I mean … The things you keep showing me – I don’t want to accept them. But I’m not an idiot. Why would I deny the evidence of my own eyes?’

  ‘Well – ignoring the fact that we’ve already proved the eyes are not to be trusted – I’ll take the point as you intended it. It’s not that the rest of the Service disbelieves what I do – though, naturally, few even know I exist – more that they choose not to think about it. Accepting evidence I’ve presented and shoving it away in a box is one thing, but actively pursuing it is another. They leave me alone. They’d rather not be involved.’

  Shining kicked at a pile of rags on the floor in irritation. ‘On the subject of not seeing what should be plain, I take it you’ve realised the problem we’re facing.’

  ‘We’ve tracked the radio signal to an empty building,’ said Toby, ‘but where’s the transmitter?’

  ‘It wouldn’t have to be huge, but we’d certainly have seen it if it were here.’

  ‘There aren’t any other rooms?’

  ‘No. I’ve been here before, remember?’

  ‘You going to tell me what happened?’

  ‘Later, when we’re out of here.’ Shining looked around, checking the roof, nimbly hopping over a couple of gaps in the floorboards. Then he sighed and moved back towards the stairs. ‘We’re wasting our time. Invisibility. Perception. Blindness. There’s far too much of that at the moment.’ He scratched at his beard. ‘Synchronicity or just a pain in the arse? It should be here and yet we can’t see it.’

  ‘Could it be buried?’ wondered Toby. ‘How powerful are these things?’

  ‘We’re talking about a shortwave radio transmitter,’ said Shining, ‘possibly an extremely old one. It’s not an iPod. We’re looking for a decent sized box and a whopping great antenna.’

  ‘The roof?’ Toby suggested.

  ‘Possibly,’ Shining admitted, ‘but I don’t know how we can get a decent look.’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ said Toby, ‘I do.’ He leaned out of the hatchway towards the hoist, grabbing hold of the hanging chain and yanking on it to test its strength.

  ‘You’re not going to go swinging out there?’

  ‘Of course I’m bloody not – I’m not that mad. But I can climb up onto the winch support and from there I should be able to see across the roof.’

  ‘Well,’ said Shining, as he came back over, ‘if you’re sure. Would you like me to hold your jacket?’

  Toby handed it to him, gritting his teeth and pulling himself up onto the heavy wooden crossbar. It creaked but held. Making a concerted effort not to look down, Toby used the roof to steady himself, grabbing hold of the edge of the slates and slowly getting to his feet until he was standing upright on the winch support. One of the tiles came away in his hand and his stomach flipped as he fought to keep his balance. The tile smashed on the road below.

  ‘Try not to kill anyone,’ said Shining. ‘I include you in that, obviously.’

  ‘How
kind.’

  Grabbing another tile, wiggling it first to make sure it would hold, Toby stretched up so that he could see over the edge. The roof was empty, at least on the side that was facing the street.

  ‘If there’s anything on the far side I wouldn’t be able to see it from here,’ he shouted, ‘but as I’m not going up there, we’ll just have to take it as read.’

  ‘And as your superior I’m happy to sign off on that,’ said Shining, ‘so get back in here before my staff consists again of just me.’

  Toby sat on the cross bar, turned around and lowered himself. After a brief, terrifying moment of hanging in space and being sickeningly aware of the fact, he managed to get his foot back onto the ledge and Shining pulled him inside.

  ‘Obviously,’ the old man said, ‘I’d have been only too happy to have climbed out there myself, but you seemed to want to prove yourself.’

  ‘Well, if you won’t let me do any of the magic stuff, I have to make myself useful somehow.’

  Shining pulled out his phone and tapped on the screen. After a moment, the sound of the numbers station started playing from its small speaker.

  ‘Nine hundred and ninety nine, five, five, seven …’

  ‘Oman put an app on my phone that lets me listen to the broadcast,’ Shining explained. ‘He can be terribly clever about that sort of thing.’

  ‘It’s started counting down. It said one thousand yesterday.’

  ‘That’s rather ominous. I do hope we haven’t somehow set it off by coming here.’

  ‘I’d find that easier to believe if there was actually anything here. Wonder how quickly it’s counting?’

  ‘Nine hundred and ninety eight, five, five, seven, five, five, seven; nine hundred and ninety seven …’

  ‘I’ll time it,’ said Toby looking at his watch.

  They both listened to the radio repeating the same numbers over and over until …

  ‘Nine hundred and ninety six, five, five, seven, five, five seven …’

  ‘Three minutes.’

  ‘Check it again, in case it’s not regular.’

  Toby did so.

  ‘Nine hundred and ninety five, five, five, seven, five, five, seven …’

  ‘Same again, we drop a digit every three minutes.’