‘Are you saying that you want something from us?’ Old King asked. ‘Is that what you’re saying? I don’t understand.’
‘Well,’ said Tinto, ‘as you have seen, I am not just a mere toy. I am special, unique. And I can mobilise this city, raise an army of toys and lead them to destroy the evil twin. And it can be done, trust me. He may be a God, but he is a God in the form of a man. He’s not immortal. He can be killed. And I can do it. But I will want something in return. I’ve discussed it with Big Box Fella. He has given me the go-ahead.’
Eddie did some more ear-scratchings.
‘And what is it that you want?’ asked Old King Cole.
‘Well,’ said Tinto. ‘I toyed with the idea that I might become King of Toy City. As you have observed, I could carry this off most convincingly.’
‘What?’ cried Old King, falling back in outrage. ‘But that’s my job! I’m the king.’
Tinto laughed that laugh of his. And then a hinged jaw dropped open and the muzzle of a gun appeared from his mouth hole. Tinto cleared his throat with a pistol-cocking sort of sound. The gun muzzle swung in King Cole’s direction.
‘I’d be happy to abdicate, of course,’ said Old King. ‘If that’s what you want, in exchange for saving us all. I’m sure it could be arranged without difficulty.’
‘Of course that can be arranged. But that is not enough. The way I see it is this: if I kill the evil twin, kill a God in fact, then I have earned the right to more than a kingship. I have earned the right to …’
‘Godhood,’ whispered Eddie. ‘Tinto wants to be worshipped as a God.’
‘What did you say?’ Jack asked.
‘I said,’ Eddie turned his head down to Jack, ‘I said … Aaaaaagh!’
‘Why did you say Aaaaagh?’ Jack asked. And then a hand fell upon his shoulder.
Except it wasn’t a hand.
It was more of a leg.
A big leg.
A big hairy spider’s leg.
Jack turned to face the owner of this leg.
‘Aaaaagh!’ went Jack.
26
With a struggling lad beneath one big leg and a panic-stricken bear beneath another, Miss Muffett’s spider marched upon its remaining hairy appendages into the Miss’s mansion, through the front door, along a hall and into the perfectly proportioned ballroom.
Here it flung the two detectives down onto the hard wooden floor.
‘Welly well well,’ said Tinto. ‘Isn’t this a surprise.’
‘Tinto,’ said Eddie, struggling to his paw pads.
‘Tinto?’ said Jack, ramming the sections of his fallen fedora back onto his head and hoisting himself once more into the vertical plane.
‘Skulking about outside,’ said the spider – although to Jack, who had never heard a spider speak, these words were unintelligible.
‘We were just passing by,’ said Eddie. ‘Didn’t drink ourselves quite as sober as we thought. Got a bit lost. You know how it is.’
Tinto rocked upon his wheels. ‘Of course I do,’ he said.
‘So we’ll be on our way now; come on Jack.’
‘But,’ went Jack.
‘Let’s go,’ said Eddie, turning to leave, but finding his exit blocked not only by the fearsome spider, but also by the two big burly men with the dark suits and the mirrored shades.
And the guns.
Eddie grinned foolishly towards Tinto, who shook his metal head. ‘I think not,’ said the clockwork chameleon. ‘I think you should stay.’
‘Fine by me,’ said Jack. ‘There was no need for that spider to be so rough with us. Any chance of some eats?’
‘Plenty back at the office.’ Eddie tugged at Jack’s trenchcoat.
‘No there isn’t.’
‘I think you will stay.’ Tinto clicked his hinged jaw arrangement at Eddie. ‘After all, you have seen and heard everything that’s gone on in here.’
‘No.’ Eddie shook his head. ‘We were just passing by, honest.’
‘Really? And yet I’m certain that I saw your silly furry face peeping in through the open window. I have extremely good eyesight – telescopic vision, in fact. I see all.’
‘What’s going on here?’ Jack asked. ‘And … oh.’ He spied the prone Porgie. ‘Has there been another murder?’
‘Tinto,’ said Eddie, ‘we’d like to join up. Join your private army.’
‘Join his what?’ Jack asked.
‘Tinto is raising a private army,’ said Eddie. ‘To fight the evil twin. Tinto is a barman of many parts. He’s a real hero.’
‘Is he?’ Jack glanced doubtfully at Tinto.
‘He is,’ said Eddie. ‘So, Tinto, where would you like me to sign?’
‘No signing necessary.’ Tinto’s tin head went shake shake shake.
‘We’ll just be off then; goodbye.’
‘Stay where you are,’ said Tinto.
‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’ Jack asked. ‘Private army? What is all this?’
Tinto turned his back upon Eddie and Jack. Candlelight twinkled upon his perfect paintwork. ‘Good people,’ he said to the assembled company, ‘great people, allow me to introduce you to Eddie and Jack. They’re detectives. Eddie was Bill Winkie’s bear and Jack is new to the city.’
‘Hi there.’ Jack waggled his fingers.
‘Eddie took over the case after Bill disappeared. He and Jack have been relentlessly, if unsuccessfully, pursuing the murderer.’
‘We have,’ said Jack.
‘Excuse me,’ said Old King Cole, ‘but is this some kind of joke? A toy bear and a young gormster?’
‘I’m really sick of folk calling me that,’ said Jack.
‘Between the two of them,’ said Tinto, ‘they have complicated matters no end. But their antics have given me considerable amusement, which is why I have allowed them to continue.’
‘You’ve what?’ said Jack.
‘I’ll have to explain later.’ Eddie clung to Jack’s leg. ‘If we have a later.’
‘Have a what?’ said Jack.
‘I’m trying to be democratic here,’ said Tinto. ‘I thought I’d put your fate to the vote.’
‘To the what?’ said Jack.
‘This city is now under martial law,’ declared Tinto.
‘Under what?’ said Jack.
‘Jack,’ said Tinto, wheeling close to Jack, rising high upon his wheels and opening his chest to reveal a row of wicked-looking metal barbs, ‘if you say the word what one more time, I will be forced to kill you.’
‘Forced to …’ Jack’s voice trailed off.
‘Thank you,’ said Tinto. ‘You see, desperate times call for desperate actions. It is often necessary to sacrifice an individual or two in the cause of the many.’
‘But we’re on your side.’ Eddie made pleading paw movements. ‘We want what you want.’
‘I know,’ said Tinto, retracting his wicked-looking barbs, wheeling himself up and down the ballroom, and glittering beautifully as he did so. ‘But the point I’m trying to make is this: would you consider yourself to be an individual, Eddie?’
‘Definitely so,’ said the bear.
‘And what about you, Jack?’
‘Is it all right for me to speak?’
Tinto nodded.
‘Then yes,’ said Jack. ‘I am definitely an individual too.’
‘And there you have it.’ Tinto ceased his wheelings. ‘Condemned out of your own mouths, with no need for a democratic vote. There is no room for individuals in a war, only for soldiers who follow orders without question. I can’t have you two running loose any more. You’d only cause further chaos.’
Jack made a baffled face.
‘But you’re in charge now, Tinto,’ said Eddie. ‘We’ll do exactly what you tell us to do.’
‘That’s good then.’ Tinto’s head went nod nod nod. ‘In that case I will assign you both to my first crack squadron.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Eddie.
‘Tinto’s Tornado F
orce,’ said Tinto.
‘Right,’ said Eddie. ‘Great name.’
‘The crack suicide squadron.’
‘What?’ said Jack.
‘Gotcha,’ said Tinto. ‘That was your last what!’
‘No,’ said Jack, ‘hold on.’
‘Take them out,’ Tinto told the spider. ‘Take them somewhere nice and quiet and well away from here and then kill them both. And kill the big what-boy first. He really gets up my metallic hooter.’
‘No,’ begged Eddie. ‘Tinto, please. We’re old friends. Don’t do this.’
‘Desperate times,’ said Tinto, turning his back once more. ‘But it’s all for the common good. The rest of you …’ Tinto’s arm extended and swung all around and about. ‘The rest of you, prepare to leave. I have a truck outside. We will repair to a place of safety. I know somewhere sweet and secure.’
Tinto whispered certain words into the ear parts of Miss Muffett’s spider. ‘And sick up on their faces before you kill them,’ he added loudly.
‘Tinto, no, please.’ Eddie waved frantic paws, but Miss Muffett’s spider scooped him from his pads.
‘Now just you see here.’ Jack raised a fist. But then he too was similarly scooped.
‘We’re done for,’ said Eddie. ‘We’re sawdust.’
He and Jack were all in the dark. All in the dark in the locked boot of a big, posh automobile: a mark 22 Hyperglide limousine with pressed steel body panels finished in whey beige enamel; alloy-trim solid wheels with lithographed brass spoke motifs and moulded tyre assemblies; full pink plush tuffet seating throughout; sunroof fitted as standard; wind-up stereo sound system optional, but installed in this particular model.
This was being driven at speed through the night-time streets of Toy City by Miss Muffett’s spider.
‘Don’t fret, Eddie,’ said Jack. ‘We’ll be fine.’
‘Fine?’ Eddie’s voice was hollow in the bumpy darkness. ‘We’re being driven to our place of execution. We will not be fine.’
‘Of course we will. Trust me.’
Eddie growly-groaned.
‘And please tell me,’ said Jack, ‘what is going on?’
The Mark 22 Hyperglide limousine sped on. The spider tinkered with the wind-up stereo system and behind him in the darkness of the boot Eddie, having nothing better to do, filled Jack in upon all of the details.
‘Well,’ said Jack, when Eddie had done with the filling of him in, ‘I grudgingly have to admit that it does appear that your theory is correct. There really is an evil twin.’
‘My pleasure in the knowledge that I was right is somewhat marred by our present circumstances,’ said Eddie, shuddering away.
‘But at least we now know who the murderer is. And why he’s doing the murdering.’
‘The evil twin,’ Eddie shuddered on. ‘But we don’t know where he is and we’re as doomed as.’
‘Wake up, Eddie,’ said Jack. ‘You’re missing the obvious.’
‘I’m sure I’m not,’ Eddie said.
‘I’m sure you are. Remember what we were saying about behaving like proper detectives? Doing things the way Bill would have done them? How they would have been in one of his books?’
Eddie made noncommittal grunting sounds.
‘Well, in the books, the detectives would have encountered the murderer by now, and we just did. That was the murderer, Eddie.’
‘Tinto? You’re saying that Tinto is the murderer?’
‘It’s not Tinto,’ said Jack.
‘It’s not Tinto?’ said Eddie.
‘It’s not Tinto,’ said Jack. ‘Don’t you understand? Not Tinto.’
‘It was Tinto,’ said Eddie. ‘We both saw him; we both know him.’
‘Wasn’t Tinto,’ said Jack. ‘That’s what I’m trying to explain. That thing back there wasn’t Tinto.’
‘I give up,’ said Eddie.
‘Looked like Tinto,’ said Jack. ‘And sounded like Tinto. But wasn’t Tinto. And do you know how I know?’
‘Obviously not,’ said Eddie.
‘Because of his back. When he turned away from us, I saw it. Tinto is called Tinto because of the name on his back: Tintoy with the “y” scratched off. You showed me; you said that he thinks it makes him special. Our friend back there, at Miss Muffett’s, the “y” wasn’t scratched off his back. His back was perfect: it glittered in the candlelight. It said Tintoy on his back. That wasn’t Tinto, Eddie. That was the criminal mastermind impersonating Tinto! That was the evil twin himself!’
‘You genius,’ said Eddie. ‘You complete and utter genius. You’re as smart as.’
‘I’m a detective,’ said Jack. ‘And that’s what we detectives do. Observe. Theorise. Resolve. He lied to them, Eddie. You heard him lying that he’d been at the toymaker’s house. We were there, he wasn’t. And remember what Bellis said about how criminals never tell the truth? They just lie and lie. He went there and lied to them and gained their confidence, told them how he could save them all, told them that the toymaker had sent him. He was disguised as Tinto because he knew that they knew Tinto. And he was disguised because they all know what he really looks like. They were there; they helped to throw him out of the city. And now he’s got them all. All his old enemies. He’ll kill them for certain.’
‘So how can we stop him? He’s the very Devil, Jack.’
‘And a formidable adversary, if he can turn himself into weapons and stuff like that. But we’ll find a way. Somehow.’
‘Do you think he was the spider-woman too?’ Eddie asked.
Jack shrugged in the darkness.
‘Was that a yes or a no?’
‘It was a shrug.’
‘I’m very sad about all this,’ said Eddie. ‘I get it right and then we get captured and sent off to our deaths.’
‘It will all be okay. Somehow. Trust me, Eddie.’
‘I do,’ said Eddie. ‘But …’
‘But what?’
‘The car’s just stopped,’ said Eddie. ‘And I think I need the toilet.’
There was a click of a key in a lock and then the boot lid swung open. Some light fell upon Eddie and Jack. Not a lot of light, but enough: enough to illuminate the fearful face of Eddie.
‘Out,’ said Miss Muffett’s spider.
‘What did he say?’ Jack asked.
‘He said “Out”,’ said Eddie.
‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘Right.’
Jack lifted Eddie from the boot and set him down upon the ground. And then Jack climbed out and stood before the spider.
The creature was little less than terrifying. In fact, it was a great deal more than more so: a towering black science fiction nasty. Its glistening mandibles clicked. Its complicated mouthparts moved in and out and its multifaceted eyes stared unblinkingly at Jack.
Jack stared back. ‘You’re one ugly mother …’
But the spider struck him from his feet.
Jack rolled over on the ground and glared up at the creature. ‘Ask him where we are,’ Jack called out to Eddie.
Eddie cowered at the car boot.
‘Ask him,’ said Jack.
Eddie asked the spider.
Mouthparts moved and words were uttered.
‘He says we’re at the abandoned doll works on East 666,’ said Eddie, in a trembly tone.
Jack climbed slowly to his feet. ‘Do you know your way back to Miss Muffett’s from here?’ he asked Eddie.
‘Yes, but …’
‘Then get in the car; we’re leaving.’
The spider spoke further words.
‘It says …’ said Eddie.
‘I don’t care what it says,’ said Jack. ‘Get in the car, Eddie.’
‘But, Jack.’
The spider drew back and then suddenly rushed forward at Jack: a blur of terrible scrabbling legs and horrible horrible mouthparts.
Jack drew the 7.62 mm M134 General Clockwork Mini-gun from his trousers and coolly shot the spider’s head right off the arachnid equivalent of its shoulder
s.
‘Right,’ said Jack, retrousering his weapon. ‘Let’s go.’
Eddie looked at the fallen spider and then he looked up at Jack.
‘What?’ said Jack.
Eddie shrugged.
‘Well, what did you expect me to do, let it kill me?’
‘Yes, well no, but.’
‘I couldn’t shoot it back at Miss Muffett’s, too many big burly men with sunglasses and guns about. I had to wait until we got here.’
‘But I’ve been all but pooing myself. I was as terrified as.’
‘But you knew I still had the gun.’
‘Well, in all the excitement, I sort of forgot.’
‘Sorry,’ said Jack. ‘So, shall we go? We have famous folk to rescue and an evil God to destroy.’
Eddie sighed. ‘Right,’ said he. ‘But first I have to do that thing that bears do in the woods.’
When Eddie had done that thing, he returned to Jack.
‘Back to Miss Muffett’s?’ Jack asked.
‘No point,’ said Eddie. ‘He won’t be there. He was preparing to take the famous folk away in that big truck.’
‘We’ll pick up some clues there, then. We’ll find them, somehow.’
‘No need,’ said Eddie. ‘I know where he’ll be taking them.’
‘You do?’
‘Of course I do. Trust me, Jack. I’m a detective.’
The moon was ducking down now and the sun was on the up and up. Jack brought the Mark 22 Hyperglide limousine to a halt at the gates of the chocolate factory. He ran his fingers lovingly over the polished silkwood steering wheel and thought to himself just how very much he’d like to own a car like this. Along with a chauffeur to drive him about in it, of course.
‘So what are we doing back here?’ he asked Eddie.
‘Somewhere sweet and secure,’ said the bear. ‘That’s what the evil twin said. And what is sweeter than chocolate? And more secure than a place with such big gates and such a dedicated gatekeeper?’
‘I don’t see the truck.’
‘We’ll have a word with our man the talking head.’
They left the limousine and did so.
‘You can’t come in,’ said the gatekeeper. ‘Not without an appointment.’
‘A truck went through these gates earlier, didn’t it?’ said Jack.
The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse Page 28
