The Silent Vulcan

by James Follett

  There was some laughter; the WI ladies manning the barbecue joined in, some shook their fists in a good natured manner at Harding.

  "But the good news is that we're plenty of cider and malt beer, and enough soft drink to drown a hippo in. The arms of those living around the square have been seriously twisted so that the music and dancing will go on until 4:00am, but please son't expect me to stay with you that long. Not at my age. But the really good news is that from today, we will have enough electricity to keep essential services going throughout the coming winter and there will be sufficient for shops and workshops around the town centre to remain open after dark. It looks as if the production capabilities of the methane well in Baldock's Field will exceed our wildest expectations."

  Loud cheering greeted the news.

  Harding held his hand up. "And just to give you an idea of the power that is now available to us, we're going to have a little switch-on demonstration. Firstly, everyone please remain seated. We don't want any accidents... Okay... Can we have all lights out please?"

  The electric lights went out save for the single spot on Harding. People blew out their tablelamp candles. Market Square away from the rostrum was plunged into a semi-darkness. It was virtually total in the corner where Malone was sitting.

  "On the count of ten," said Harding. "Ten... Nine... Eight..."

  The crowd took up the chant. "Seven... Six... Five...

  Malone saw the brief flash of a penlight torch in Mrs Williams' shop. Figures brushed around him. A glimpse of white. The scrape of chairs.

  "Four... Three... Two... One... Zero!"

  The dazzling explosion of light in the square was like a nova. Not only did the previous lights come back on but all the additional batteries of lights burst into life, including the street lights together with arrays of suspended Christmas illuminations -- a riot of flashing, racing neons. To complete the shock effect, all the shop fronts and windows overlooking the square also spilled light into the square. The crowd was stunned into silence for several seconds, and then it seemed that everyone was on their feet, clapping and cheering.

  The disc jockey's timing was excellent. He came in with `Stayin' Alive!' at full volume, drowning the excited shrieks of children and their parents pointing up at the lights. It was a stunning spectacle for a people who had become accustomed to the dim light of candles and charcoal lamps after dark.

  Malone raised his glass to his four women companions who had appeared at his table during the ten seconds of darkness.

  "Your health, ladies."

  Chapter 56.

  ELLEN WAS WEARING A LONG, chunky jumper, pulled low over a pair of Anne's jeans to hide the big safety pin that was holding the fly closed. Vikki was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Claire looked sensational in one of Anne's short summer dresses, and Anne was wearing the absurdly small white dress that she had worn at the Mayday carnival. Russell and Carl had taken up positions nearby, their eyes scanning the crowd that was too intent on applauding Bob Harding at the rostrum to notice the new arrivals.

  "I feel frightened," said Vikki apprehensively, glancing around at the crowd.

  "I think we all do," said Ellen.

  "There's a lot of people here so it's only to be expected that you feel intimidated after having been shut up for so long," said Malone, resenting having to watch the crowd instead of looking at Anne. "But you're surrounded by friends."

  "So you see, ladies and gentlemen," Bob Harding was saying, "things are looking up for us. Crops are looking good -- we've already started lifting potatoes and we'll be cutting brassicas soon. As predicted, our Mediterranean climate is going to give us a glut of melons and other fruit. The telephone network is going nicely -- every household should have a phone by Christmas, and soon Selby Engineering will be producing iceboxes now that the ice-making plant is gearing up. Next year we start work on a major water hyacinth water purification scheme that'll bring main drain sewage to outlying areas."

  Sporadic applause greeted each statement.

  "Anyway, that's enough from me. And these lights are hardly conducive for a smoochy evening so let's have them back to normal, and light your table lamps. I declare this carnival well and truly open. Have a great time, everyone."

  The floodlights and shop lights went off. The disc jockey faded up a lively number that tempted some couples onto the dance floor. Malone saw that the woman who had shouted the curse was staring across at his group, her expression one of frozen incredulity. She eventually nudged her companions. Several pairs of eyes turned towards the corner table and all looked thunderstruck.

  "Sighting Number 1," said Malone phlegmatically into a microphone that he pulled from his jacket pocket. "Stand by."

  The music stopped abruptly. There was a sudden buzz of conversation from the surrounding tables. An assortment of derisive calls and whistles assailed the disc jockey as he checked the connections on his equipment. Bob Harding stood to say something but there was no sound from the overhead speakers. He unclipped the radio microphone from his belt and checked that the battery pack was snapped home.

  "Something's up," said Vikki nervously.

  Malone signalled to Carl. "Find out what's happened to the PA system."

  The morris policeman pushed his way through the crowd.

  "Ladies and gentlemen!" It was Adrian Roscoe's sonorous voice booming from his mobile canteen's public address system. The big video screen was flickering. "Despite the efforts of myself and the Bodian Brethren, the accused abominations -- those disciples of Satan -- that have brought the wrath of almighty God upon us -- are free and among us to wreak their evil upon us even as I speak!" The video tape shot by Nelson with his camcorder of Ellen and Vikki manacled to the dogcart before they had been taken to the Temple of the Winds, appeared on the screen. Someone had done some clever lip-synch dubbing because Ellen seemed to cry out, "Satan! I beg you, Master! Deliver us from your enemies!"

  "And Satan heard her plea and she was delivered!" Roscoe's voice echoed around the square.

  Tables and chairs were overturned as people swarmed forward, pressing together around the mobile canteen for a better view of the screen. Vikki started sobbing. Anne gathered her protectively into her arms. The special protection unit were alert, awaiting Malone's signal.

  "And Satan answered her prayer!" Roscoe triumphed. "He used his terrible powers of darkness to defeat God's Wall so that his witches could escape to Farside. We have the irrefutable proof! Watch!"

  The picture on the screen changed to the sequence of Vikki chasing after Himmler, her long, blonde hair blowing in the wind. She was naked apart from the sabre tooth's skull, her body was marked with the charcoal runes that she had drawn on her body when she had been bored. They were little more than rings around her breasts and navel but the effect on the crowd was electrifying, particularly when the shot tightened to a close-up of her face and the fearsome skull of the sabre tooth cat, the huge incisors in front of her cheeks as if the skull was a primitive headdress intended to ward off evil spirits.

  "Oh, no!" Vikki wept. "How can this be?"

  "Is that not an acolyte of Satan?" Roscoe thundered. "Is that not Farside in the backgound? What more proof could you want -- but watch!"

  Malone was stunned. He roundly cursed himself for being duped by Faraday when the video cassette had been handed over in the field by the Wall. In retrospect he realised that Faraday's cloak and his fumbling due to the plaster cast on his arm had made it easy for him to swap the tape cassette. For once Malone's ability to think fast and make snap decisions deserted him in the face of these wholly unexpected events that saw all his careful planning come to naught.

  A great gasp went up from the crowd when the sabre tooth cat came into shot. The video editor had even dubbed on sound effects: the crouching cat gave a mighty snarl that brought Vikki to a standstill before it. The low growls rumbling from the sabre tooth were at just the right volume. Ellen and Claire appeared over the brow, with Ellen in the lead, running fearlessly
straight towards the cat. The video editor chose that exact moment to cut to a closeup of Vikki's terrified face. They were frames copied from earlier in the tape and enlarged. The shot lasted only two seconds but it was sufficient to bridge the editing out of Ellen throwing the rocks at the cat. She was heard to scream as she rushed at the cat, "Satan! Oh, Master! We beseech you! Banish the enemies of your followers!" The dialogue was absurdly biblical and melodramatic but its effect on the crowd was profound. Everyone was bludgeoned into silence by the incredible scene unfolding on the video screen. Hardly had the dubbed fake voice of Ellen finished speaking, when the sabre tooth cat gave one last, mighty snarl and bounded down the slope and out of sight. The final sequence was of Ellen, Claire and Vikki embracing. The image shrunk and the fake soundtrack was not of three women expressing tearful relief, but hysterical, triumphant laughter. "Those witches are among us now!" Roscoe's voice ranted. "They escaped the just retribution that was due to be meted out to them. They must not escape again! Find them! Bring them to me so that they can receive almighty God's justice!"

  On a signal from Malone, all 20 morris police in the special protection unit jumped to their feet and formed a tight phalanx around the corner table. "All Mike Sierra units!" Malone barked urgently into his radio's microphone. "Get to the mobile canteen! Disable it! Arrest Roscoe if he's inside. Go! Go! Go!"

  The special protection officers around Malone's table stood firm while about fifty other morris police on duty in the square surged towards the big Winnibago but could make no progress through the throng. Malone was about to bundle the four women into Mrs Williams shop and their escape route when he heard the sound of distant gunshots coming from the direction of the police station. He snatched up the telephone.

  "They're over here!" yelled the woman who had seen the four women. "Mekhashshepheh!"

  Ellen's anger triumphed over her common sense. She jumped onto a chair. "Who said that?" she challenged the crowd.

  "There she is! That's one of the witches!"

  "Carol? Carol? For Christ's sake answer!" Malone was trying to talk into the phone and pull Ellen off the chair at the same time. Russell scooped her up. He was about to push her into the shop but Malone grabbed him by the arm.

  It was an open line to the police station. Malone could hear shouting, running feet, a gunshot which came over loud on the phone and could be heard in the distance. A woman's scream was cut-off by the blast of a shotgun. Malone slammed down the handset. "Russell! Something's happening at the nick. Get down there asap. Take some backup."

  "What about Roscoe, sir?"

  "A recording. It has to be. Get moving!"

  Russell signalled to two morris police. They charged through the line of morris police and into the gathering crowd. The horde made a path for them as they closed in on the corner of the square, urged on by the curse-screaming woman. The phone call had cost Malone valuable seconds.

  "Into the shop! Come on!" Malone yelled. Anne was nearest. He grabbed her by the arm and hurled her into the shop doorway just as the mob, mostly yelling women, were thrust back by the circle of morris police.

  "Mekhashshepheh! Mekhashshepheh!" the curse-shouting woman continued screaming. She was standing on a table, drawing an even bigger crowd into the melee.

  About fifty determined men with more piling into the affray stormed the police line. It held for a moment and it collapsed. Tables and chairs were scattered. Malone's martial art skills were no match for the sheer weight of numbers. For an insane moment he thought of firing his .45 into the air but he was thrown backwards against the wall. A fist connected hard with his temple.

  "Mekhashshepheh! Mekhashshepheh!"

  Momentarily stunned, Malone heard Vikki and Claire screaming as they were seized, and he caught a glimpse of Ellen swinging a chair before she, too, was overpowered by the mob. Six morris police who tried to save the women were forced to defend themselves. They and Malone went down under the savage onslaught. Suddenly the crush diminished, the crowded pulled back. Malone staggered to his feet and nearly slipped over in a pool of blood from an injured police officer who was lying still, brought down by a chair. Someone was yelling his callsign in his earphone. Vikki was screaming hysterically as the mob bore her and Ellen and Claire in triumph to the Winnibago. Anne tried to dash after them but was pushed away. Sobbing, her rage and frustration boiled over. She hurled herself forward again. This time she was grabbed and pushed back so hard that she almost lost her footing.

  "Mekhashshepheh! Mekhashshepheh! We have the witches!"

  Malone leapt for a street light standard and shinned up four metres, enough to give him a clear view over the crowd that was packed around the Winnibago. He saw the side door open and had a glimpse of Vikki's and Claire's blonde hair as they were forced inside. Ellen was last in, fighting and kicking. The door was slammed shut and the vehicle started nudging its way through the throng. Malone realised that there was no chance of him having a clear shot at its tyres. Even if he had, he would need both hands to hold the .45 steady which he couldn't manage while clinging to the lamp standard. There were fights all over the square as enraged bands of Pentworth's citizens battled to prevent police officers getting near the mobile canteen that was now crawling through the heaving mass, heading towards the road that led to Pentworth House.

  He jumped down and saw that Anne was tending to the wounded police officer whom she had helped to a sitting position.

  "Look's like Roscoe is calling the shots afterall," she said listlessly, not looking up at Malone.

  The calls clamouring in Malone's earphone that Carol Sandiman wasn't acknowledging stopped when he gave his callsign. "All units head for Pentworth House!" he ordered, not bothering to use the mansion's code name. "Stop the canteen getting through the gates, and I want everyone on board that vehicle unharmed and in custody, but I want it stopped!" He propelled Anne into the shop, told her to stay there, and darted through the premises and into the back alley. He broke into a run and emerged in the side street where he had parked his Range Rover. He thought he heard the spyder overhead but was in too much of a hurry to listen.

  Anne caught up with him as he was unlocking the vehicle. "I'm coming with you," she gasped.

  There was no time for argument. Malone knew how strong willed she was so he bundled her into the front seat and drove off, accelerating hard. He switched on his main set in time to catch Carl Crittenden's report that the power lead to the public address amplifier had been cut.

  "Bit bloody academic now," Anne observed.

  Now that he had a more powerful radio than his handset, Malone repeated his order that all units were to head for Pentworth House. He slewed the Range Rover around a corner, determined to use the vehicle with its extra weight of armour plate to ram the Winnibago if necessary. Anything to stop it getting to Pentworth House.

  Russell Norris came in with his callsign, sounding unnatural strained. "There's been a raid on the nick..."

  Jesus bloody Christ!

  "... Ten men. They've stripped the armoury..."

  Fuck!

  "Anyone hurt?" Malone demanded. "What was the shooting?"

  "WPC Sandiman's stopped some shotgun pellets in her leg. They threatened to kill her unless she handed over the keys. She's badly shaken but okay. They've killed Jerry Hamilton. Paul Henley and Des Rowley were supposed to be on duty at Baldock's Field. They must've heard the shooting and went to investigate. They're also dead."

  The rest of the report was drowned by Malone burning rubber as he slewed the Range Rover through a 180 degree handbrake turn in the narrow street. He gunned the engine and headed south, inwardly cursing the heavy vehicle's sluggish acceleration.

  "What about Pentworth House?" Anne demanded. "What about Vikki?"

  "Three of my officers have been killed and several others injured!" Malone snarled. "We're going to the nick!"

  A few seconds later Anne was thrown forward when Malone braked beside a parked police Commer. The driver was standing beside the ve
hicle, holding his head. The Commer was on it rims, its tyre slashed. This had been a well-planned operation.

  "You okay?" Malone demanded.

  "Just about, Mr Malone. Three of them. They--"

  Malone didn't wait to hear the end of the sentence. He hammered the Range Rover into the night and out of the town.

  "There's no sign of the mobile canteen at Pentworth House," an officer reported over the radio.

  Malone snatched up the microphone, abandoning radio procedure. "What the hell do you mean? It's got to be there!"

  "Sorry, Mr Malone. It took off around the back streets. We've got about fifty units at the gates waiting for it, but it hasn't showed up."

  Another police officer requested permission to break in. PC Conrad Hardy was a member of Pentworth's original police force and one of Malone's most capable officers. "A member of the public has just stopped me," he reported, "and said that he saw the Winnibago turning into Baldock's Field about ten minutes ago. I'm in the vicinity now."

  "Baldock's Field is the next turning on the right!" Anne cried. "Please, Mr Malone! God knows what they're doing to Vikki and the other two."

  Malone thought fast. The whole point of his leaving the town was because he thought his officers would be at Pentworth House in force to deal with the Winnibago. Not only had Faraday duped him over the video cassette but Adrian Roscoe had outsmarted him, too.

  "Okay," he muttered. He lost speed, and killed the headlights. The powerful lights that lit the generating station were a glow above the field. He switched off the engine and allowed the Range Rover to coast to a standstill beside a high hedge before the turning into Baldock's Field.

  "Aren't you going in?" Anne demanded.

  "Not yet," Malone replied. There was no one about. It was best to await Hardy's report than rush into the field. He wound down the window and presumed that the sound of the Centrax generator covered the sound of Hardy's arrival. First the road was deserted and then the police officer seemed to materialize from nowhere and was crouching at the driver's window.