Necrophenia

‘I’m glad he didn’t pull that on me,’ I said to the other ninja, who was looking on with what was probably a surprised expression. Because it can be quite tricky to tell with ninjas, as they have those bandana things tied around their gobs, don’t they?

‘My brother,’ said the ninja. ‘You’ve killed my brother, Pete.’

‘These things happen,’ said Papa Crossbar, and he withdrew the golden blade from Pete’s forehead, and Pete toppled sideways.

‘He’s a thoroughgoing swine,’ I said to the bereaved ninja. ‘Why don’t you punch his lights out and leave the rest to me?’

‘I have a damn fine mind to, as it ha-’

And then, wouldn’t you just know it-

And down went that ninja also, to lie beside his brother.

‘I really thought he’d have you,’ I said to Papa Crossbar. Backing away as I said it. ‘Seems they were better at blending in and hiding than at the actual fighting side of it, eh?’

‘A piece at a time,’ said Papa Crossbar, golden weapon in his hand, blood dripping from the blade. ‘I will skin you alive. A most painful way to die, I understand. Mr Ishmael certainly put up a right old fuss when I did it to him.’

‘You thoroughgoing-’ And I ran.

Not dignified, I agree. Not noble, not heroic. But come on – I really had given all this my best shot. And if I got away and he couldn’t sacrifice me, then perhaps all the horrible stuff wouldn’t happen.

Well, that’s my story, at least. And I’m sticking to it.

And, ‘Come back, you!’ he cried and gave chase.

And I somehow went out of the wrong door. Not the one that I came in by. And suddenly I found myself outside the conservatory and on the rooftop of the CIA building. In a veritable hurricane, with the thunder booming fit to bust and the lightning forking around and about and much too close for comfort.

And I have to say that once out and upon that storm-swept rooftop, I found myself with few if any places to run to. In fact none at all. So I backed away towards a corner of the roof.

‘Nowhere to hide, Tyler,’ shouted the Homunculus, his voice somehow rising over the storm. ‘Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. Nothing to do but die.’

‘There always is another option,’ I shouted back, ‘if you are prepared to work at it.’

‘Perhaps the Tyler Technique? Or perhaps you might be a wee bit too distracted up here. Too much input, eh?’ The blade came swishing towards me.

And I backed away just a little bit more. Then had no more away to back to.

And I glanced down. And it was a long way down. Down and down and down. With the roof of Mornington Crescent East (discontinued usage) so very far below.

And rain lashed me and thunder growled in my ears and I was now most scared.

And the blade swished once and then swished twice. And my left ear came off.

‘Oh my God, no!’ I howled and I snatched at that ear as it whirled through the air. And I did manage to catch it. But the blade whirled again and took off my right thumb.

And I howled, ‘No!’ And I howled, ‘Help!’ And then I just howled and howled. And I sank down to my knees on that roof all bloody and wretched and scared.

And the evil villain loomed over me. And he rose upon his toes and he laughed. And he cried, ‘I win, Tyler. I win all.’

And down came the terrible blade.

72

And in that maelstrom, with the very elements lashing all around me, I knew that I was done. That I was lost, that I had lost. And now all would be gone. All life, all love, all everything.

And that terrible blade came down. And then fell to the rooftop beside me and bounced down over the edge. And I looked up from my fearful cower and viewed the Homunculus. And he was clutching at his chest.

And blood was flowing from his chest.

From a nice neat hole within it.

And I saw him turn. And then I heard two shots ring out above the fury of the storm. And the Homunculus turned back and gawped at me. And this time he had a hole in his forehead.

And he lurched at me. And then he swayed, right there upon the very edge of the rooftop.

And yes, I confess it – I gave him a little push.

I leaped up and kicked his bum.

73

And down he went and down. Through the elemental turmoil, down and down. And far below he struck the roof of Mornington Crescent East (discontinued usage) and he passed right through that roof and he struck the concourse below. And then bounced down the stairway, onto the platform, off the platform and into the hole that I had dynamited in the tracks.

And down to the City of Begrem.

And that in itself was a long way down.

And if, as is so often the case, there was any chance at all, in the way of super-villains, that he had somehow survived the gunshots to the head and chest and the fall to Mornington Crescent and then down to Begrem, this chance of survival was denied him by the lady in the golden straw hat, who had been awaiting the fulfilment of the prophecy in The Book of All Knowledge (and Selected Lyrics) regarding the second being that descends into Begrem.

The bad one.

That this bad one must be hacked all to pieces.

And the lady in the golden straw hat had her big golden knife all sharpened and ready.

And followed that prophecy, gorily, right to the letter.

74

And I looked up at my deliverer.

And I said, ‘You took your time.’

And Lazlo Woodbine looked down upon me and said, ‘Could you use a hand?’

And he helped me back to the high-domed conservatory. And he slammed shut the door. And he released the golden girlie. And then he set about sewing my left ear back on and also my right thumb, and I do have to say that although it hurt like the very Devil, he made a damn fine job of both.

‘As long as no one ever notices that I have a thumb sewn on where my left ear should be, I think we’ll be fine,’ I said.

And oh how we laughed.

‘And thank you,’ I said. ‘Mr Woodbine, thank you for saving my life.’

‘No sweat, kid,’ said Lazlo Woodbine. ‘And you can call me Laz.’

‘Well, Laz,’ I said, ‘once again, thank you. I just wish that you’d got here a bit earlier.’ And I tapped at my resewn parts.

‘But I did, kid,’ said the great detective. ‘I got here a while back. But you had to have your moment. Get the truth out of that thoroughgoing swine. For your autobiography. It will probably be written up a bit differently in the forthcoming Lazlo Woodbine thriller, but no matter about that. Only thing is, I can’t figure just how I got here. Last thing I remember is being at Papa Crossbar’s Voodoo Pushbike Scullery and then falling into that whirling black pit of oblivion that we nineteen-fifties genre detectives so often do. And then I’m suddenly here.’

‘You have me to thank for that,’ I said.

‘And how?’

‘It’s a long story,’ I said, ‘and it has to do with a theory invented by a man named The Flange that things are where they should be, because they should be where they are. He tried to create the perfect sitting room for Jesus in order to bring about the Second Coming, but he failed. Before him, the members of the Cult of Jon Frum tried it. But tonight I achieved it through the Tyler Technique. The theory is that given the absolutely correct circumstances and situation, what is sought will come to pass. And in a situation where the world was at peril from the ultimate super-villain and there was a final rooftop confrontation (with a storm) going on, who could be there to sort things out other than Lazlo Woodbine? I just hoped that the magic would work. I figured it out earlier in the super-villain’s office. The idea came to me that if I could just get him up onto the rooftop, you would appear. It was a long shot, but I believed in it and it worked.’