Johnny and the Bomb

"More secure than that."

The sergeant scratched an ear.

"There's the Lost Property cupboard," he said. "But there's important stuff in it-"

"Lost Property cupboard! Haven't you got a safe?"

No.

"What'd happen if the Crown jewels were found in the gutter, then?"

"We'd put "em in the Lost Property cupboard," said the sergeant promptly. "And then ring up the King. If his name was in them, of course. Look, it's a good thick door and there's only one key and I've got it."

"All right, take out what's in there and put it in your cell and put the box in the cupboard," said the captain.

"Chief Inspector won't like that. Very important stuff, Lost Property."

"Tell him we can co-operate in a very friendly fashion now or if he prefers he can take a call from the Chief Constable in two minutes," said Captain Harris, putting his hand on the phone. "One way or the other, hmm?"

The sergeant looked worried. "You serious about this, sir?" he said.

"Oh, yes."

"That stuff's not going to go off bang or anything, is it?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think so."

Five minutes later the sergeant walked down to the cells with his arms full of the contents of the cupboard, and a put upon expression on his face. He put them on a bench in the corridor and fished out his keys. Then he pulled aside the hatch in a cell door.

"You all right, old girl?"

"That's what you think. Talk about a blue pencil! You can tell he's a lad, can't yeh, Mister Shadwell?"

"Yes, yes," said the sergeant, opening the door.

The old lady sat on the bed. She was so short that her feet swung several inches above the floor. And there was a cat on her lap. It growled when it saw the sergeant - a slow, rising growl which suggested that, if there was any attempt to pick the cat up, it was all going to end in claws.

The sergeant had long ago stopped worrying about how the cat could get into the cells. It happened every time. There wasn't room via the windows and it certainly couldn't have got in through the door, but every night the old lady was in the cells, the cat would be in there, too, in the morning.

"Finished your breakfast, have you?"

"Mille

"Good. Then you just come along with me. It's a nice day outside," said the sergeant.

"Beam me up, Scotty," said Mrs Tachyon, standing up and following him obediently. The sergeant shook his head sadly.

She trailed behind him into the station yard where, under a hit of canvas the sergeant had thrown over it the night before, was a wire trolley loaded down with bags.

Mrs Tachyon looked at it.

"No-one nicked anything?" she said.

She was like that, the sergeant thought. Mad as a hatter most of the time and then suddenly a sentenced come out at you like a razor blade in candy floss.

"Now then, old love, as if anyone'd touch that lot," he said, as kindly as possible.

"Points win prizes. Hats."

The sergeant reached under the trolley and produced a pair of boots.

"These belonged to my mum," he said. "She was going to throw 'em out, but I said, there's still some good leather on them-"

Mrs Tachyon snatched them out of his hand. In seconds they were somewhere in the pile of bags on the trolley.

"It's a small step for a man," said Mrs Tachyon.

"Yes, they're size sixes," said the sergeant.

"Ah, Bisto. It's a great life if yer don't weaken, but of course they've put a bridge there now."

The sergeant looked down at the trolley.

"Du

"Obbly Obbly Ob. Weeeed!" said Mrs Tachyon. "I told them, but no-one listens to a teapot. Fab!"

The sergeant sighed, put his hand in his pocket and produced a sixpence.

"Get yourself a cup of tea and a bun," he said.

"Hats. That's what you think," said Mrs Tachyon, taking it.

"Don't mention it."

The sergeant headed back into the police station.

He was used to Mrs Tachyon. When nights were cold you'd sometimes hear a milk bottle smash on the step outside. This was technically a crime, and it meant that Mrs Tachyon was looking for somewhere warm for the night.

Not on every cold night, though. That was a puzzler, and no mistake. Last winter it had been very nippy indeed for quite a long time and the lads had got a bit worried. It came as quite a relief when they'd heard the crash of breaking glass and the cry of "I told 'em! That's what you think!" Mrs Tachyon came and went, and no-one knew where she came from, and you never found out where she'd gone ...

Beam me up, Snotty? Mad as a hatter, of course.

But ... strange, too. Like, after you'd given her something you ended up feeling as if she'd done you a favour.

He heard the rattle of the trolley behind him, and then a sudden silence.

He turned around. The trolley, and Mrs Tachyon, had gone.

Joh

It's happen here, where there were public libraries and zebra crossings and people who did the football pools.

Bombs would come crashing through roofs and ceilings and down to the cellars, and turn the world white.

And it would happen, because as Yoless said, it had happened. It was going to have happened, and he couldn't possibly stop it, because if he did find some way of stopping it, then he wouldn't know about it happening, would he?

Maybe Mrs Tachyon collected Time. Joh

"Are you all right?" said a voice, a long way away.

Miraculously, the rubble became houses again, the light came up, the football rattled against the goal in the warm afternoon air.

Kirsty waved a hand in front of his face.

"Are you okay?"

"I was just ... thinking," said Joh

"I hate it when you switch off like that."

"Sorry."

Joh

"We didn't come back here by accident," he said. "I was thinking a lot about tonight, and we ended up coming here just in time. I don't know why. But we've got to do something, even if there's nothing we can do. So I'm going to"

A bicycle came around the comer. It was bouncing up and down on the cobbles and the ski

They stared at the cyclist. He was shaking so much he looked slightly out of focus.

"Bigmac?"

"Ur-ur-ur-"shuddered Bigmac.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" said Kirsty.

"Ur-ur-ur-n-n-nineteen? H-h-hide the bike!"

"Why?" said Kirsty.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Ali," said Yoless, knowingly. "It's like that, is it?"

He picked up the bike and wheeled it into the sooty shrubs.

"Like what?" said Kirsty, looking bewildered.

"Bigmac always never does anything," said Joh

"That's right," said Yoless. "There can't be anyone in the whole universe who's got into so much trouble for things he didn't do in places he wasn't at that weren't his fault."

"Th-th-they shot at me!"

"Wow!" said Yoless. "You must've not done anything really big this time!"

"Th-there was th-this c-car-"

The ringing Joh

"Th-that's a police car!" said Bigmac. "I tried to give them the slip down Harold Wilson Drive and - it wasn't there! And one of them shot at me! With an actual gun! Soldiers aren't supposed to shoot people!"

They dragged the trembling Bigmac into the horrible bushes. Kirsty gave him her mac to stop him shivering.