The Levitating Village
Chapter Six - The Cibonauts
I looked through the window into a carriage converted into a fully fitted restaurant kitchen. Two people were embroiled in a heated argument, while others stood and watched, keeping silent so as not to be pulled into the contretemps.
A tall ginger man with a strong Welsh accent spoke loudly, spraying spittle into the other man’s face, “Come on, you idiot! Do you know nothing?”
“I -” the Waiter managed.
“Unless the next words through your lips are yes sir, sorry sir, you can go! In fact, get out of my sight!”
The tall man threw a cloth at the Waiter’s head. The Waiter caught it and threw it to the floor, walking off. The tall one ascended some steps into a room at the back of the carriage.
I recognised this shouting man. When Bob Quinn had said his name, a memory tickled at the back of my mind even then. Morgan Calder was above average height, thinning ginger hair and a permanent smirk hiding just out of reach on his smug, self satisfied face. I remembered him from a minor celebrity cooking show a few years back, when the Village was at its highest fame. The show didn’t last many episodes, mainly because of Calder’s attitude. I only remembered him by seeing him now. His face had disappeared into obscurity long ago. I wouldn’t be surprised if the TV Company hadn’t burned the tapes and any recognition that Calder had ever been on their network. I knew a man like Morgan Calder once. He was a man of infinite impatience, a temper that burned the room he occupied, a voice that screeched out orders with no regard to whom he offended. That man was Mental Ken and he lived in a chest freezer at the end of my estate.
“Nice night for it.”
I nearly jumped fifty foot high, “Bob. Bob Quinn.”
“Dougy, my boy.” Bob slapped his hand on my shoulder, “You do get about.”
“I might say the same of you.” I said, turning to face him.
“You might, true.” agreed Bob Quinn.
“You have a habit of creeping up on me.”
He shrugged, “Often the way. People rarely notice the postie, that is until they need ‘em.”
“What are you doing out at this time of night?”
“Well, you know, neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night, etcetera. Besides, I suffer from insomnia and a good stroll round the Village usually does the trick. You wouldn’t believe the sights I see at night.”
“Is that so? Did you see, I don’t know, say a murder? Or the disappearance of a certain Professor -”
Bob smiled. His eyes shifted to the carriage window behind me, “Oh, look. Sir William, up there. And look who’s turned up with him?”
I looked in the Dining Car and observed Lana take off her coat and placed it on the back of her seat opposite William Marshall. I turned to speak to Bob Quinn, but he had disappeared. The wind was turning chilly in the midnight air.
I opened the carriage door and quietly slipped inside. I took a jacket and hat from a hook just inside the door. They were obviously too big for me. I walked confidently into the Dining Car, taking a table just behind Marshall’s.
I heard the conversation over my shoulder, “Now isn’t this nice?” It was Marshall.
“If you say so.” said Lana.
“Now now. No need to be unpleasant. You know why you’re here. Just make the most of it. You never know, you might enjoy it?”
“I doubt that.” Lana spat.
Marshall’s voice was closer with more menace, “Well, if you hadn’t been snooping in my office then we wouldn’t be at the predicament we find ourselves in now, would we?”
“I was just dropping some papers off in there.”
“We both know that’s a lie, don’t we? I know you’ve been helping that Layton man. What does he hold over you?”
“He means nothing to me.” Ouch. Very ouch.
“Maybe. Maybe. “ conceded Marshall, “But he trusts you, yes?”
“I suppose so.” Lana agreed.
“I have much to lose here, Lana. My family has been in this Village for over a thousand years. Many generations, many land deals and money lending that brought our family name to its proverbial knees. It has taken me most of my life to get that name back, back to some kind of righteous place. I’m not evil, Lana. I just want what’s best. Sometimes that means people have to take the fall. Sometimes people have to sacrifice themselves for the greater good.”
“You sound like a nut.” said Lana, after a dramatic pause.
“It has been said before, my dear.” chuckled Marshall, “Many times. But I will do anything necessary for the sake of those who need it. If that’s madness, then I am your lunatic.”
“I need to use the little girl’s room.” said Lana. I heard her chair scrape back and gentle pats of feet disappearing.
“Hurry back. Food will be here momentarily.”
It was only now I recognised how quiet the place was. I had been too distracted by the picture of Sir William and Lana together. Stupid really. I should have realised that it may be after-hours. That Sir William had pressured Calder to keep his kitchen open. This was probably why he was in such a bad mood. As this dawned on me, I think it occurred to Sir William also.
“So, Douglas, my boy.” he said at last, “Had an eventful couple of nights? It really is a beautiful Village, isn’t it?”
“Yes, thanks for that.” I said, holding my wound, “It would have been so much simpler if you had signed the damned papers and I had just left the Village. I’ve seen way more than an office clerk has a right to.”
I heard a muffled chuckle, followed by mildly amused prose, “But then I couldn’t pin the murder on you, could I, my boy? You think your boss, Mr Trent’s sudden illness was coincidental? Of course not. You were his idea. Don’t get up. And don’t act surprised by this news. It must have crossed your mind. I know what you’re thinking, but no, this hadn’t been planned for a long time. It happened quite suddenly a week ago. That’s why Trent had to suddenly change his plans. He was coming here until this complication arose. You, my boy, are the proverbial scapegoat. Sorry about that.”
I turned suddenly, ready to strike Marshall, “You complete and utter unadulterated son of an ugly, smelly, greasy, pock marked -”
“Doug?“ Lana had returned.
I said what I could manage, given the circumstances, “Oh, poo.”
“Idiot!” she said, quite rightly, “What are you doing here?”
“Wait a minute!” I said, picking now the time to question her comments about me that she made to Marshall, “What about those things you said about me? That I mean nothing?”
Lana rolled her eyes to the ceiling with an exasperated sigh, “I was lying to protect you, you complete pillock.”
I saw a glimmer of sun beyond the dark cloud, “So, you do care?”
She punched my arm, which hurt quite a lot, “Of course I do you stupid -”
Marshall cut in, “Alright. Enough of the love fest. We find ourselves in a sticky situation, don’t we? There’s a murderer in our midst, isn’t there?”
The door to the kitchen opened. Morgan Calder stepped through, brandishing a cleaver. He advanced slowly. I became aware behind me that the restaurant’s Doorman was making a similar gesture. I noticed in the growing panic in my mind that I was standing on a still accessible service hatch. I grabbed Lana by the arm, opened the hatch and we both dropped down.
The track was overgrown with weeds and a clotting odour of dampness, but we used it as a guide, with the darkness and the shadows of the train carriages a landmark to head back into the heart of the Village. We didn’t speak. Escape was the only option, but Lana led the way.
After about half a mile, she veered off our current path. I noticed a difference in surface, from train tracks and the gravel used to pack the sleepers in tightly, to sodden grass and eventually to a damp and odorous canopy of trees. After only a short walk, we came out of the thicket onto a tarmac road. There was no light here, but the moonshine allowed me enough sight to view the rows of identical looking houses. It was a housing estate, completely abandoned, looking like a ghost town.
Lana was aiming for a specific area, a specific place. To me it looked the same as anywhere else, but she assured me it was very private and to all intents and purposes could be on a different planet as far as the Police and Sir William were concerned. We took a house in a completely abandoned cul-de-sac, devoid of onlookers, where Lana broke in the back door a little too expertly for my liking. I followed her inside.
The house was empty, the belongings of the last occupier intact, waiting for them to return. A thin film of dust framed the property like the ghostly remnants of its long gone owners. Lana crept through the house as though she knew it intimately. We eventually reached the Master Bedroom with en suite. I told her I would sleep downstairs on a chair or something. She told me this was nonsense and that we were adults, so could share the big bed together. I was both too tired and too horny to argue so slipped into the bed. It was surprisingly warm and cosy. Unfortunately I fell immediately into a very deep sleep.
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