Raiders Of The Lost Car Park Part 14

'You used my special spell without permission.

'In order to recover your car, sire.

'Which you did not do.'

'No, sire. But am doing now.'

'Oh yes?'

'Oh yes, sire. I despatched four of your bodyguards to drive around the area in search. They called in a few minutes ago to say that they had located your car and were in pursuit. So all is really well and good. Good night.'

'Well and good?' The king rocked forward in his throne and threw his great arms wide. 'You despatched four of my bodyguards? My great, thick, clumsy, gormless bodyguards?'

'Yes, sire.'

'To drive around the area, did you say?'

'Yes, sire.'

'In what, Kobold? In what are they driving?'

'Well. I told them to go down to your car park and take whatever they thought would get the job done.'

The king fell back. His mouth wide open in his horror. 'My bodyguards? Given free rein with my motor cars? Have you lost all your senses? Are you bereft, Kobold? How could you think of such a thing? What made you do it? What?'

'Well, sire,' Arthur Kobold chewed upon his knuckles, 'you see, it's not just the matter of your favourite car. It's the matter of who stole it from Murphy.'

The king groaned. 'Go on,' said he. 'Tell me the worst. If worse there can possibly be.'

'I'm afraid there can. Far worse. You see, when Murphy stole the car from your car park, it wasn't entirely empty. I have every reason to believe that one of our "guests" had hidden himself inside the car. A certain category-AAA "guest 'A prisoner has escaped? I mean, "a guest has chosen to leave us?" Which one? Not Elvis?'

'Elvis?' Arthur Kobold asked. 'We don't have Elvis staying with us, do we?'

'Ah ... er ... mm. Of course not, Kobold. Whatever put that into your mind?'

'You just said-'

'No I didn't. You must have imagined it. There is only one King. And I'm he. So speak up, d.a.m.n you. Who's nicked my car?'

'Out with it, Kobold.'

'Spit it out. Or truly will you know my wrath.'

'Hugo Rune,' said Arthur Kobold. 'Can I go now, sire, I need the toilet.'

Hugo Rune put his foot to the floor and the silver car streaked over Kew Bridge towards Brentford.

'As a rule I rarely drive,' he told Cornelius. 'There are two kinds of people in this world: those who sit behind a wheel and drive, and those who sit behind them and tell them where to drive. I am of the latter persuasion.'

'You are my father,' said Cornelius.

'Mayhap. However, put aside all thoughts of falling on my neck with kisses. Our lives are still in some peril.'

A gorgeous long-bodied landaulet, which would have found a pride of place in the collection of Lord Monty, drew level with them. Its driver, a hideous great green thingy, yelled something gross in their direction.'One moment's pause, before you yet again enjoy the pleasure of my conversation.' Rune drew down hard on the steering wheel, caught the landaulet a thunderous blow and sent it spinning from the road. Cornelius peeped over his shoulder to make what he would of the explosion. Thoughts of the evil Campbell returned to his mind, and the devastation he had wrought upon a score of police cars. Like father like son.

'Only one remaining now,' said Hugo Rune.

'If you hang a right after the traffic lights, we can easily lose him in the backstreets and hide out at my house.

'What an absurd suggestion. We shall go directly to my manse.

'Whatever you prefer then. Kindly lead the way.'

'Now that', said Hugo Rune, 'is what I do the best.'

They lost the final car, a rare, if not unique example of the Cord, when Rune nudged it off the road into the newly reglazed front window of Polgar's Pet Shop.

From then on the drive became more sedate. They left the suburbs of the metropolis behind and travelled north. And Rune discoursed upon a great diversity of subjects. Cornelius spoke little and though a thousand questions crowded in his head, he couldn't get a word in edgeways on. And so, at last, he fell asleep.

He awoke to find the sun upon his face and Rune's words once more in his ear.

'And that is how', said Rune, 'the scoundrel Einstein stole my notes and walked off with the n.o.bel Prize.'

'Outrageous,' said Cornelius. 'Are we there?'

'Behold the manse.'

The car was parked upon a sweeping drive of Chichester stone.

Before it rose an ancient country pile, circa 1690. It was fashioned from the granite of the region, mellowed to a golden hue. The house had a hipped roof, pediment and cornice, which combined with the cla.s.sic facade, so favoured in the period by Inigo Jones. There remained the Gothic touch in the mullion and transom windows. And near the angles, pilasters took the place of the usual rusticated quoins.

Rune left the car and stretched his limbs before the house. Cornelius urged Tuppe into wakefulness.

'Don't shake me all about,' said the small bloke. 'I've been awake all the time. G.o.d, your knees are bony.'

'Awake all the time, eh? Then I suppose you know where we are.'

'No,' said Tuppe. 'I'm quite lost.'

Cornelius viewed Hugo Rune through the wind-screen. 'And what do you make of him?'

'He's looking well on it,' said Tuppe. 'Doesn't seem to have aged a day since that picture was taken.'

'The one we found in Victor Zen.o.bia's trunk?'

'Do you still have it?'

'Of course.' Cornelius wormed the crumpled relic from his pocket. There was Rune, surrounded by his acolytes, on his birthday, more than half a century before. And no, he hadn't aged one day, one jot, or one iota. Nor had the suit he wore, the same nineteen thirties Boleskine tweed plus-fours number by all the looks of it.

Cornelius looked up from the Rune of yesterday to see the Rune of today waving him to follow.

'Shall we join him?' asked Cornelius.

'Do you smell breakfast cooking?'

Cornelius wound down the window and flexed his sensitive nostrils. 'And then some,' he replied.

13.

The hall was 'baronial', with a hammerbeam roof. The design of this roof, however, differed from most other hammerbeam roofs, in that it carried the great arch-brace through the hammerbeams and hammer-posts, instead of under the point of junction of the hammerbeam and hammer-post. Thereby balancing the vertical and oblique thrusts so perfectly as to permit a large span. As an additional vanity, spandrels between the king post and the braces had been filled with cusping.

A long oak table, groaning with a veritable banquet, stood at the centre of this hall. And Hugo Rune spread out a great arm and said, 'Behold the beano.'

Cornelius had never seen such food, nor smelled such smells. The mingling fragrances rising from the exotic fare, as such it was, comprising dishes and delights to baffle the most seasoned gourmet, made music in his nose.

'Seat yourselves.' Rune took his place at the head of the table. 'And feast.'

Cornelius looked at Tuppe.

And Tuppe looked at Cornelius.

And they both sat down and feasted.

It took more than an hour for the three of them to get through it all. But they did. The spread was reduced to a desolation suggestive of a soldier ant march past.

Rune licked clean his plate, released the lower b.u.t.ton of his waistcoat and belched mightily.

'Ad-equate,' said he.

Tuppe grinned through a layer of chocolate cake.

And Cornelius said, 'Incredible.'

'Fair to middling.' Rune dabbed his mouth with a napkin. 'Shall we partake of cigars, before we gravitate to the main course?'

'Main course?' Cornelius made with the popping eyes.

'Unless you'd care for a little more starter.'

'No, I'm fine, thank you.'

Tuppe licked his fingers and thumbs. 'He likes his nosebag, does your daddy.'

'I'll take a cigar please,' said Cornelius. 'I think that we have much to speak of.'

'Correct in essence, but not in specific detail. I have much to speak of and you have much to listen to.' Rune plucked a long green cigar from a bound bra.s.s case and poked it into his mouth. He turned the case towards Cornelius.

'Thank you.' The tail boy took out a cigar, put it to his nose and breathed in its glory.

'Argentine,' Rune hit the end from his cigar and spat it the length of the room. 'Roiled upon the thigh of a dusky maiden. It recalls to me a time I spent in that fair land. I had been invited to stay with the president, old Juan Peron and his pa.s.sionate wife, Eva. The president wished to purchase the patent for a bullet-proof garment I had recently perfected. Have you ever heard of the Three-fold Law of Return?'

Cornelius nodded and so did Tuppe. But as Rune didn't trouble to look in their direction, he continued without pause.

'The Three-fold Law of Return is an occult law, whereby a magickal current, raised by an inadequate magician to attack some enemy, reflects, with a triple force, back upon him. And serves the b.u.g.g.e.r right. Incompetence in the Arts Magickal deserves no better reward. My bullet-proof garment, Rune's Patent Protector, functioned upon this principle. It reflected the a.s.sa.s.sin's bullet straight back at him with a triple force. Most effective.

'Unfortunately, I was unable to capitalize on this particular invention. There was some unpleasantness.'

'You mean it didn't work,' said Tuppe.

'Of course it worked. I invented it. The un-pleasantness to which I allude was of a personal nature.

The president took exception to the relationship I had formed with his wife.'

'What?' Tuppe fell back in his chair. 'You don't mean he caught you s.h.a.gging her?'

'Tuppe, really!' Cornelius took his cigar and stuck it into the small fellow's mouth.Rune fluttered his fat fingers. 's.h.a.gging is not the word I favour to describe an intimate congress be-tween two kindred spirits. Although it was the one Peron used when he burst into his bedchamber to find his wife and me "taking tea with the parson".'

'Stone me,' said Cornelius. 'What happened then?'

'The tardy fellow put me before the firing squad.

"Any final request?" he asked. "Only that your men aim for my heart," said I, "for it has been my undoing." Happily they did. Twelve shots rang out. Twelve men fell dead. Rune's Patent Protector, tried and tested. I left the country with my head held high and my reputation intact.

'And the bullet-proof vest?' Cornelius asked.

'Vanished into obscurity?' Tuppe suggested.

'Hardly that.' Rune sucked upon his cigar. It took flame, which was a neat enough trick, but no great shakes. 'Peron hung on to that. He intended to equip his entire armed force with it. And no doubt did. Woe betide any nation that dares to wage war upon Argentina.'

Tuppe opened his mouth to speak, but chose to suck upon his cigar instead. His didn't light.

'Where have you been for the last eighteen years?' Cornelius asked.

'Held prisoner within the Forbidden Zones. Waiting for you to release me. And last night you did.'

'I don't think I did.' Cornelius scratched his cap. 'I'm sure I would remember a thing like that.'

'You drove me out.' Rune puffed upon his cigar. 'In my own car.

Tuppe affected an expression of supreme en-lightenment. 'You were hiding in the boot.'

I certainly was not! Rune does not lurk in car boots like a spare wheel. I was sitting in the rear seat.'

'There was no-one in the rear seat,' said Cornelius.