Robert Rankin - Necrophenia

But where was in?

What was all this up here?

And so I had a little drift about to see what was what and why.

This was not the open roof. It was a great high-domed conservatory kind of a jobbie, in the grand Victorian style, glorifying in each twiddly bit and the unnecessary fussiness of its design. It was lit by flaming torches held within cast-iron embrasures at regular intervals about the single circular and all-encompassing wall of glass and iron-work – rather out of place upon the peak of this bland tower block of a building, but evidently constructed to serve a particular purpose.

And the purpose it was constructed to serve was all too horribly evident. The circular floor was of marble, inlaid with many precious and semi-precious stones: aquamarine, beryl, chrysoberyl, emerald, sarkstone, heliotrope and tourmaline and lapis lazuli. And wrought into it was the infamous pentagram, enclosed within the double circles, which themselves enclosed the words of power too terrible to be named.

And there were many other symbols and sigils wrought into this floor, symbols and sigils from many cultures, ancient and modern – all points covered, as it were. And at the heart of the pentagram, enclosed within another circle, this one composed of amethyst and sapphire, was the circular altar.

And strapped to this, spread-eagled, was the girlie.

And standing before her, big bad gem-encrusted book in his horrid hands, was Papa Keith Crossbar, the heinous Homunculus.

And he had a wicked old grin on his chops.

And the lightning flashed and the thunder crashed and those two men crouched by the doorway.

My attention was also drawn to a number of television monitor screens that were affixed to the upright structures of the great glazed dome – CCTV. And there indeed was me upon one of these screens, standing sentinel upon the stairs outside the door.

And I did shruggings of my astral shoulders. The Homunculus had probably watched me on screen as I came up in the lift. This was, after all, the CIA building. They did have security.

And I returned silently to my body and sat down upon one of the stairs and had a bit of a think.

And having had it, I marched up the stairs, kicked open the door, took one step forward, two steps back, invoked the power of the Tyler Technique and watched as Dave and Barry leaped forwards to the spot where I had been standing, struck each other mighty whacks with their electric truncheons and toppled both unconscious to the floor.

And their heads did go crack upon that marble, which must have really hurt. Even if they were dead.

And I stepped forward into that great domed wonderful-terrible room. And the Homunculus glared at me big pointy daggers and closed his book and placed it down upon the central altar.

And then he approached me on short stumpy legs and he put out his hand for a shaking.

And he grinned once more and said, ‘Welcome, Tyler, you are right on time.’

And I grinned somewhat in return, but I did not shake his hand. Instead I did something I had never done ever before in my life.

I spat in his face.

‘I have come to kill you, Mr Crossbar,’ I said, in a manner that let him know that I was not kidding around here. ‘Prepare yourself for death.’

And I reached out for his throat.

And do you know what? I never even saw them. But then you never do, do you? You never do see them, because they are all stealth and secret martial arts. Ninjas. Damned ninjas.

All in black and looking cool. They came out of nowhere.

And then-

They had me by the throat.

‘Tick tock, kill the clock, said the faerie queen in her flowery frock.’

The Homunculus did a little bit of a jig on his stumpy legs and he wiped my spittle from his chin. ‘Do you know that old nursery rhyme, Tyler? “Tick took, kill the clock”? I can only remember the first two lines. It’s funny what you remember and what you don’t, isn’t it? What sticks with you and stays with you. Because it is those things that stick and stay when we are children that make us what we are when we become adults. Were you loved, as a child, Tyler? Did your mummy love you?’

A ninja loosened his hold on my throat. And I made a gagging, ‘Yes.’

‘How charming. And has that made you a good person, Tyler? Have you lived a good life? Done good things? Made your mummy proud of you?’

‘I’ll thank you to leave my mother out of this,’ I said. ‘This is strictly between you and me. If you’d be so kind as to ask the ninjas to release me, I will carry on with my plan to kill you.’

‘Well, that’s one possibility. And please don’t think that I am simply dismissing it out of hand without giving it due consideration. But I think… no. I think we will go along with my plan, rather than yours. After all, that clock that has ticked and tocked your life away has just a little bit more ticking and tocking to do before it stops for ever. Before everything stops for ever.’

I made a very grumpy face. As well I might, considering the circumstances. ‘Is there nothing I can say?’ I said. ‘Nothing I can do to dissuade you from this course of action? Everything that you are doing is so utterly, utterly wrong. Can you not understand how wrong it is? Listen, let’s go and have a beer. I know a nice little place – Fangio’s Bar. We could drink some beer and talk the toot. I’m sure I could explain things better over a few beers.’

‘No beers.’ The Homunculus turned his back and fluttered his fingers.

‘Perhaps a sweet sherry, then, you old-’

‘What did you say?’ The Homunculus turned back.

‘Nothing,’ I said. Just testing, I thought. Because I had not spoken. I just wanted to know whether the Homunculus could hear my thoughts as I could hear his.

And he could.

‘Yes,’ said he. ‘I can. And they do all seem to be rather confused, the past and the present all jumbled up. However do you ever get anything done with such chaotic patterns of thinking?’

‘I get by,’ I said. And I tried very hard to think those words convincingly.

‘You do not get by, Tyler. You have never got by. Your entire life has been orchestrated and manipulated, if not by me, then by Mr Ishmael. Tonight is probably the first time in your entire life that you have done any real thinking for yourself and made any decisions that weren’t already prearranged for you.’

‘Rubbish,’ I said. ‘I’ve done tons of independent thinking.’

‘And it’s never crossed your mind to wonder why things have always been there, right there, exactly when you needed them? You wish to descend into subterranean depths, and there just happens to be a supplier of subterranean appliances and appurtenances right across the street?’

‘That was just a happy coincidence.’

‘There have been no happy coincidences in your life, Tyler. Everything was put there, for you to “find”. And all so that ultimately you would “find” yourself right here. Right now.’

‘Lies,’ I said, ‘all lies.’ And I had a bit of a struggle. But that was a waste of time. And one of the ninjas kicked me. Quite hard.

‘Ouch,’ I said.

‘It wasn’t that hard,’ said the ninja.

‘For half of your life, Tyler,’ the Homunculus continued, ‘Mr Ishmael guided you, saw to it that you learned what he felt you needed to learn in order to defeat me.’

‘I know that,’ I said.

‘When you were doing your little out-of-body walkabout, Tyler-’

‘You know about that?’

‘I taught you that, while you were in your coma. I protected you. You would have gone completely gaga if I hadn’t. And then you would never have been able to enter Begrem, fulfil their prophecies and bring me the mother-to-be of my magical son. But what I was trying to say was that when you were doing your little out-of-body-walkabout tonight, Tyler, you should have popped down to the freezers in the basement. The big padlocked one at the end has Mr Ishmael’s head in it.’