"Keep talking!” Alice said.
"Lordie! I'm sure you don't want to hear all that. Nag is a fair-sized city by Vales standards. Not like Joal or Tharg, of course, about the size of Suss. We'd call it a modest market town. That was where I met the heir apparent, Prince Goldfish."
"You are making that up!"
"No. Cross my heart! Well, it was pronounced more like ‘Golbfish,’ but I always thought of him as Goldfish. He was the queen's oldest son and his name was Golbfish Hordeleader. He was in his late twenties, I suppose, and one of the tallest, biggest men in Nagland. He was rich, had three gorgeous concubines, and he was heir to the throne. What more can a man want?"
"To play the mouth organ?” Smedley said grumpily.
"I told you you wouldn't want to hear all this."
"Yes, we do!” Alice said. “What about Goldfish?"
"And he was absolutely miserable! To start with, he was big, but he was shaped like a pear. Also—"
The car coughed and slowed, the motor silent.
Ginger guided it into the curb, and it came to a halt right by a streetlight. It hissed and clinked.
Alice said, “Hell's bells!"
Ginger had slumped over the wheel. After a moment he turned around. “Anyone got any ideas?"
"It may just have overheated,” Smedley said. “Let's give it a few minutes and then try cranking it.” If he had some tools he might be able to do something, or at least show Exeter how to do something ... but he hadn't.
A lorry went rumbling by.
"We're not supposed to park here,” Alice said, her voice brittle. “And I don't imagine the buses are running yet. Care to explain all that blood on your coat, Edward? Or your trousers, Julian?"
"Or why I am wearing pajamas,” Edward said. “The old crate's done very well."
"But not well enough!” Now there was no hiding the overtones of panic in her voice.
"How about a taxicab?"
"At this time of night? Away out here? Explain the bloodstains?"
"Just a thought."
"Telephone the Royal Automobile Club,” Smedley suggested.
"Don't be stupid! We have no papers!"
They sat in brooding silence for a while.
Failure was a bitter taste in Smedley's throat. So near and yet so far! The sun would be up soon, and they must look a hopeless bunch of guys. You could get away with a lot in London, but marching around covered in blood was not one. Without his folly, the others would have had a good chance, even yet. All his fault.
Lorries rumbled by in both directions. There were no pedestrians in sight, but the capital awoke early. Covent Garden would be stirring by now, and Billingsgate.
Smedley stiffened. He must be imagining things. That wasn't just traffic he was hearing. It must be! Or was he starting to have delusions in addition to all his other madness?
"What's that noise?” Exeter said.
"Oh no!” Alice said. “Look!"
A policeman had just passed under the next streetlight. He was heading their way with the solid, unhurried tread of the bobby on his beat.
"I don't have my license!” Ginger wailed.
"I don't have anything at all,” Exeter growled. “Will he take me for a deserter?"
"Julian,” Alice said wildly, “you're on convalescent leave, and we're taking you to my home in—"
"I don't have my hospital discharge yet and why at four in the morning and Exeter has no papers at all and the blood—"
There was no innocent explanation! No one answered. They all just stared helplessly as their nemesis approached relentlessly along the pavement. With his helmet on, he looked about eight feet tall. He would have to stoop to see in the window.
He did.
"Morning, Officer!” Ginger said in his best Cambridge drawl.
Pause. “Good morning, sir."
"The jolly old engine's overheated, you see. Just giving it a moment to calm down, and then we'll be on our way."
Pause. “Will you tell me the purpose of your journey this morning, sir?” The copper glanced at the three passengers in the back. He did not shine his light on them, not yet.
Ginger said, “Er..."
15
GINGER SAID, “ER...” AGAIN.
Smedley could feel Alice shaking. Or maybe it was him.
Somebody think of something!
"Yes, sir?” said the voice of the law. A regulation notebook appeared in the bobby's hand.
"Well, it's like this,” Ginger said and fell silent.
"Convalescent leave!” Smedley said loudly, and leaned forward to wave his paybook at the policeman.
The law was becoming suspicious. “In a moment, sir. First may I see your driving license, sir?"
Ginger drawled, “Well, actually, officer—"
Behind the car, the night exploded in fire. Not a furlong away, a building sank to its knees and toppled forward into the street. The car jumped bodily. Gravel rattled on roof and windows. The policeman vanished. Before the roar had died away, another ... and another ... and another ... all around. Glass tinkled in deadly rain.
"Out!” Exeter shouted, struggling with the door.
"Get down!” Smedley barked. The others jumped at his tone of authority. “This is as safe as anywhere. It's raining glass out there."
He pushed Alice down on the floor. Exeter went on top of her. As Smedley followed, he caught a glimpse of the policeman, on his feet again, staggering toward the nearest burning ruin. Boom! Boom! The car rocked. Boom-boom! Hail spattered on the roof. Guns crumped regularly in the background between the bomb blasts. Boom! The car leaped, windows shattering. People were screaming right outside, they must be pouring out of the houses, idiots.
From underneath, Alice said, “My God!"
"This is nothing!” Smedley said scornfully. “Throwing darts. It'll take a direct hit to hurt us.” Or the adjacent building falling on them, of course. He felt quite unworried. Odd, that. After the creeping barrages of the Western Front, this was a very pathetic fireworks display. The last few bombs had been farther away. The noise was mostly people yelling and the roar of fires.
Boomboomboom! Closer again.
"Nothing, you say?” Exeter's voice sounded strained. This was not spear-throwing and shield banging.
"Kids’ stuff. You all right, Ginger?"
A distant voice said, “I just died of fright, that's all."
"Good show."
Heartbeat—beat—beat—beat—beat—
"Is it over?” Alice said. “Someone is kneeling on my kidneys."
"Wait and see. Later planes aim for the fires."
BOOM! The car rose a foot and fell back with protesting squeaks. Something sizable struck the roof, but now the clamor of hail was briefer.
"No, it's not over."
Minutes crawled by. Distant clanging of a fire engine bell. A lot of shouting and cursing now, some very close. More explosions very far away. The futile hammering of guns.
"I think we can risk it,” Smedley said. “Watch out for glass in here.” He sat up. The car had lost all its windows. A fiery dawn lit the street and the frightened crowds, many people still in their night attire. “Exeter, old man, I do believe you're wearing the proper kibosh now."
They emerged cautiously from the battered vehicle. Ginger had lost his hat and his pince-nez, he was blinking and mumbling. Apparently all four of them had escaped uninjured. The same could not be said for the inhabitants of Greenwich, or possibly this was Deptford. There were bodies on the road, wailing children, and hundreds of people in night attire. Policemen were trying to move the crowds back and let the ambulances and fire engines through. No one was interested in the fugitives now.