“I have never seen the like,” said Professor Slocombe, staring with almost equal wonder, “and I have been there and back again, as the saying goes.”
Pooley nodded thoughtfully, as was often his way when lost for words. At length he asked, “What are those, Professor?”
The sage followed the direction of Pooley’s pointing finger. “Both hands on the wheel, please,” he said. “What ‘those’ do you mean?”
“Those thoses.” Jim’s attention had become drawn to the ranks of tall pylons surmounted by silvered discs which sprouted variously about the star-points like fields of high-tech mushrooms.
“The solar cells I should suppose, Jim. They absorb the sunlight and project it from similar pads beneath the stadium, to simulate sky, provide light and create the visual camouflage.”
“Thank you,” said Pooley. “And so where would you like me to park, as it were?” Professor Slocombe delved into his Gladstone bag and brought out a blueprint of the stadium. Jim glanced back over his shoulder. “And how did you come by that, might I ask?”
“I stole it,” said the Professor in all candour. “I was far from certain that the television images told the whole truth about the stadium. I had this lifted from the offices of a certain Covent Garden design studio.”
Pooley grinned and flew the car in sweeping circles above the stadium, humming gently to himself. His thoughts at present were unsettled as he had no idea what might lie ahead. That he was going to buy one of these cars when he came into the big money was a certainty. As for now, getting through the night was rather high on the list of priorities. Another confrontation with Kaleton was in the offing and Jim felt almost comforted by the prospect. That was, he supposed, because his life lacked direction. That he should become Kaleton’s Nemesis, even if he pegged out in the process, lent a temporary purpose to an otherwise pointless existence. You will pay, said Jim to himself.
I do hope so, thought Professor Slocombe as he studied the blueprint without aid of a torch. “We will go down,” he told Jim, “at the southern tip, above the river, camp of the home team. I think we will avoid the Russian and American sectors, don’t want an international incident now, do we?”
Jim took his bearings. “Ah yes,” he said. “The river, yes, I’ve got it, but where exactly — and how?” he added as an afterthought.
“Yes, how?” Professor Slocombe folded the blueprint and peered out of the rear window. “There are heliports I see, but they have been constructed for vertical descent. There are no runways, and there is the matter of what will happen when you switch off the engine.”
“Oh yes?”
“Well, we’ll float up into the air again, won’t we?”
“Oh yes, I think the Hartnell Air Car is going to require a few more weeks on the drawing-board. So what are we going to do, Professor, bale out?”
“I’m not keen. Let us go down as slowly as we can, steer it around this way.”
Jim did as he was bid. They cruised down towards the camp of the home team, passing amongst the towers and pyramids, pinnacles and obelisks. At closer quarters it all became even more fantastic and unbelievable, a science-fiction landscape.
“How slowly can we go?” asked the Professor.
Pooley changed down and applied the brakes. “Quite slowly, as it happens. It’s quite clever this really, isn’t it?”
“The shopkeeper certainly keeps us guessing. Take us in straight ahead.” The car dropped gently down from the sky and although it continued to wobble uncertainly, Jim did an admirable job in controlling it.
“I have an idea,” said the Professor. “Can you take it in there?” He pointed to where a broad walkway disappeared into the entrance hall of one of the curious buildings.
“I’m not Luke Skywalker,” said Jim, “but the force is with us, I suppose.”
“Oh yes, indubitably, Jim.”
“Right then.” Pooley eased back on the throttle and in fits and starts they approached the opening. “Please extinguish your cigarettes and fasten your seat-belts.”
“Now is hardly the moment for levity. As soon as we are into the entrance hall, switch off the engine.”
Jim was suddenly more doubtful than ever. “But we will float up again surely?”
“And lodge under the entrance arch.”
That, thought Jim, was as iffy a proposition as any he had yet known. “In for a penny then.” The car bumped down on to the walkway with a squeal of tyres, bounced up again uncontrollably, the engine faltered and made coughing sounds. Jim gripped the wheel. “We’re going to crash.”
“Hold on tight, Jim. Now!” Pooley slammed on the brakes, tore the key from the ignition and made his personal recommendations to his Maker. The car ground along a side wall raising a stream of sparks and mangling metal, swerved, stopped dead and almost at once began to rise. There was a sickening crunch as it struck the top of the entrance hall. And then, a blessed silence. “Bravo, Jim, you did it!”
“I did?” Pooley’s face appeared over the wheel, nose crooked, a facsimile of the now legendary Chad. “I did do it, I really did.”
“Right, now we have wasted more than enough time — to work.”
“Right,” said Inspectre Hovis, “we have wasted more than enough time.” Rune’s Raiders stood in a dubious huddle before the great gasometer, fingering an arsenal of weaponry they were certainly unqualified even to handle, let alone raise in anger. Hovis cocked his old service revolver. “Now, Rune,” he said. “Open it up, there’s a good fellow.”
“Open it up,” Rune slowly remouthed the Inspectre’s words, “open it up.”
“We have the element of surprise to our favour.” Hovis turned to address the nervous constables. “Now, gentlemen, I do not want a bloodbath on my hands. We do not know how many of them there are in there. No-one, and I mean no-one, shoots anyone until I give the order, do I make myself understood?” The boot-blackened faces bobbed up and down in the darkness. Constable Meek straightened his Rambo-style headband and wondered which end of his Kalashnikov was the killing end. “OK, Rune, take us in.”
“Yes indeed,” said the Perfect Master, “indeed yes. Take us in, now let me see …”
“Now let me see.” Professor Slocombe studied the blueprint. He and Pooley stood within the shadow of the entrance hall; above them the Hartnell Air Car roosted quietly. “We go this way, Jim. Now try to keep your bearings, we may have to return at some speed.”
Pooley tucked the car’s ignition key safely away in his top pocket. “Exactly where are we going to?” he asked.
“To the very heart, Jim, the very hub. The core which lies at the centre of the arena, this area.” He pointed to the blueprint.
“But there’s nothing there but a black spot.”
“Indeed.” The Professor nodded gravely. “This way now, follow me.”
The two men passed between the titanic structures. Their entire design and geometry was strange, unnatural, alien. Jim ran his hand along a handrail and speedily withdrew it. “It hums,” he said, “it vibrates.”
“It knows we are here.”
Jim shuddered. “And what’s it all made of, Professor? This isn’t metal or glass, what is it?”
“Horn, bone, chitin, it is organic,” said the sage. “I don’t think this stadium was built, in the true sense of the word. I think it was grown.”
“Then it is …” the word did not come easily to Pooley’s lips, “… alive?”
“Not quite, it is dormant, moribund, if you like, it sleeps.”
“I do not like.” Jim tottered along behind the Professor, who moved with certain, long strides. “What when it wakes?”
“That, my dear Jim, is what we are here to prevent. We must not allow Kaleton to activate it, animate it, whatever you will.”