Chapter VI.
The Blast
The Blast
The grey of early dawn had stolen into the room above the watch shop when a punctuated knocking was heard below. Cecil started from his sleep so violently that he lurched out of the narrow cot that Leiber had generously given him (it was the only bed to be had) and fell to the floor, hopelessly entangled in the sheet.
He looked up and scanned the dim room, wondering at the noise and shivering in the early morning chill. Karotski and Leiber still sat up in their chairs but they were fast asleep with their faces on the table. They started simultaneously as the knocking was repeated and lifted their heads dazedly. Cecil jumped to his feet and was half-way down the stairs before the men in the room had had time to collect their wits.
‘Wait, Tzaddi, wait!’ called Leiber.
Cecil stopped where he was and finished waking up—he had only been half-way there until that moment. Of course it was quite foolish for him to go down until he knew who was at the door. The knocking came again and now that Cecil was fully alert he found that though it was firm it sounded somehow subdued.
Leiber hurried past him and Karotski appeared at the top of the stairs, watching and listening. Cecil heard Leiber open the door and the hurried conversation of the two parties. Presently a man came up the stairs with Leiber following.
‘What is it?’ asked Karotski.
‘Have you seen this?’ asked the man, whom Cecil recognised as one of the partisans, waving a paper.
Karotski took it and read over it. It was a copy of the poster that Baden had put out.
‘I expected them to know he was here,’ said Karotski with unconcern. ‘It doesn’t matter. They won’t find him.’
‘That’s what I came for,’ said the man. ‘The army’s searching houses.’
‘The army is?’
‘That’s right. They searched mine at five this morning and I came over here as soon as I could without being spotted.’
‘Which way were they headed?’
‘This way. There are bands of them searching this area. They’re not sparing any pains, that’s for sure. I heard about a raid in the Hungarian section yesterday.’
‘How far off are the nearest soldiers?’
‘The next house but one. I can’t help it; I ran all the way.’
Karotski did not hesitate.
‘Come on,’ he said to Cecil as he hurried past him down the stairs.
Cecil obeyed without speaking and Leiber followed them both as they left the shop through the back door. Nobody spoke until they had left that block and were pursuing their way in the early morning air on the semi-deserted streets. Then Cecil could not contain his curiosity any longer.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know yet,’ said Karotski, who was striding along at a firm and determined pace all the same. ‘We’ve got to keep you away from the soldiers somehow, but I don’t know of any place that they might not search.’
‘Should we take him to the British Consulate?’ asked Leiber.
‘They’re bound to be watching it. Besides, we don’t want to involve Fletcher. I’m sure they’re suspicious enough of him as it is.’
‘Where then?’ asked Leiber.
‘I don’t know,’ said Karotski. ‘Of course I should have expected something like this.’
It was not very pleasant to feel as if you were a nuisance to everybody, which was the way Cecil was feeling just then.
‘Perhaps we could try Sir Andrew’s house,’ he suggested. ‘They mightn’t be watching that.’
‘I was thinking so myself,’ admitted Karotski. ‘It’s a great risk to him, but it would only be for a few hours—just until after the assassination.’
Cecil looked up sharply.
‘What?’ he said. ‘I’m not coming on the job?’
‘No. Did you think you were? Of course we can’t risk you getting captured.’
‘But you let me come last night.’
‘It would have been more dangerous to leave you behind. This is different.’
‘But I had a splendid kind of fuse I was going to make and everything,’ said Cecil, quite crestfallen. ‘You don’t have a fuse for the dynamite yet, do you? It would have been a waterproof one and anyway, I want to see the explosion.’
‘I thought you didn’t like it,’ said Karotski.
‘We can’t bring you along because you might get hurt,’ said Leiber.
‘Besides which,’ said Karotski, who was more practical; ‘if you were to get killed, we’d have no one to put on the throne and all our labour would be useless. No, we can’t afford to lose you.’
‘I can’t send my men to do something without taking some of the danger myself,’ said Cecil firmly.
‘What do you mean, your men?’ asked Karotski.
‘Well, your men, then,’ said Cecil, feeling it weakened the argument somewhat. ‘I shall be their king.’
‘You’re not king yet and for now you have to do as I tell you.’
‘Will you let me go if I make you Prime Minister?’ asked Cecil.
‘No,’ said Karotski shortly.
‘Don’t try to bribe him,’ advised Leiber. ‘He’s utterly above corruption.’
Cecil felt terribly disappointed and he didn’t like feeling like a figurehead. But there was nothing he could do about it. Karotski was quite right—Cecil had to do as he said.
‘Well, you’re up early, Baden,’ said Wakjavotski as his minister entered the audience chamber later that morning.
Wakjavotski himself was an early riser but Baden was well-known for keeping late hours in less than creditable pursuits. Baden took this greeting as a sign that His Excellency was in a bad mood and tried to couch his information in a more acceptable form.
‘I wanted to be sure to see you before the meeting this afternoon. You’re usually so busy throughout the day that I thought this might be the most opportune moment and so got up before my usual time on purpose.’
‘How very self-sacrificing of you,’ said Wakjavotski drily. ‘And what tremendously time-sensitive information do you have to impart that it couldn’t wait a few more hours until the meeting? It can’t be that you’ve caught that person whose name I refuse to mention—that would be too much to hope for.’
‘No, we haven’t caught him,’ said Baden. ‘Apparently he has gotten in touch with the underground organisation, for a lorry of dynamite for blasting the new highway was stolen last night.’
‘Was it?’ asked Wakjavotski with sinister emphasis. ‘I suppose that means that they intend to blow up the palace over my head?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Baden in his calm, dry way. ‘You imagine yourself to be the object of every attack. After all, the revolutionaries would gain nothing by blowing up the palace. Their target is obviously either the arsenal or the fortress, therefore both of these have received an increased guard. Security at all key points has been tightened—even around the palace, so you may put your mind at rest on your own account.’
‘But they are still out there—ready to pounce wherever they choose—and the whole of my armed forces are unable to find them. Does that make sense? No!’
‘They are only a handful of untrained partisans who will be easy to mop up as soon as they are located and they will be soon, for they obviously mean to play their hand now that the prince is in their power. We can’t tell exactly where they will try to attack, but there are several bodies of troops dispersed throughout the capitol that can be instantly sent against them when they do appear. Wherever and whenever they strike, we will be ready for them.’
‘And what about the meantime? They could very well cause a revolt among the populace. They are probably distributing literature already.’
‘They could indeed start a revolt if they chose; the people are not very pleased just now. But it is your own fault for not listening to my advice about the reforms I suggested.’
‘What do you mean, reforms? I’m already implementing reforms left and right.’
‘Not the ones I told you to. You’re caught up in the military, but other areas are suffering as well. Transportation is insufficient, the public education system is a joke, food production is declining, the economy is failing, unemployment rates are higher than they’ve ever been; what have you done about it?’
‘I’ll have a committee look into the matter.’
‘You know your committees never solve any issues. You have to look into these matters yourself.’
‘I’ve more important things to do.’
‘You won’t have anything at all to do if you don’t. You won’t have a government anymore.’
‘Just let them try to oust me!’ said Wakjavotski. ‘I’ll crush them like a contemptible eggshell!’
He strode to the window and looked down on the government square that basked in the mid-morning sunshine and sported in its midst a statue of His Excellency, mounted on a horse (although he had never ridden one in his life and disliked the creatures) and giving the Javostski party salute.
‘Baden,’ he said reflectively; ‘you don’t really think they’re all that tired of me, do you?’
Baden remained studiously silent.
‘I mean after all I’ve done for them!’ Wakjavotski went on. ‘They should be very ungrateful if they did anything of the kind, and I won’t believe it of them, but you always talk so like a confounded automatic machine. I can never get to the bottom of you. I wonder if you’re really worried or if you only want me to be.’
‘I want you to attend to the things I’ve mentioned,’ said Baden.
‘I will think about it after the meeting,’ Wakjavotski conceded.
Cecil toiled along at Karotski’s heels, wishing they had not skipped breakfast and wondering how much longer it would be until dinner. He was also very sleepy and sore from all that had befallen him in the last few days and he wished Karotski would stop and let him rest. They had kept to back alleys at first but now that the sun was high and the streets filled with people, Karotski led him along main thoroughfares without worrying about detection. There were lots of boys in blue shorts and khaki sweaters for the police to pick up without having to single out Cecil.
‘What time, Leiber?’ called Karotski.
‘Ten till nine.’
‘He ought to be up by now,’ said Karotski and, to Cecil’s delight, he turned sharply and plunged into a restaurant.
The restaurant was crowded with late breakfasters and people who liked to sit a long time over their morning papers. There was not a spare table to be seen, but Karotski did not seem to be looking for one. He made his way straight to the back of the building where he found what he was looking for—a telephone.
Leiber and Cecil waited while Karotski picked up the receiver and gave Sir Andrew’s number. The pleasant smells of fried eggs and coffee combined with watching other people eating made them hungrier than ever.
Luckily, Karotski was able to get Sir Andrew on the telephone. Because all the telephone communications were bugged and they could never be sure whether someone else was listening to what they were saying, they had to converse in code, replacing evey important word with an unimportant substitute. Cecil couldn’t tell what exactly they were talking about from Karotski’s side of the conversation until Karotski exclaimed quite sharply,
‘What?….They are?…..Where, did you say?…..Then that means we can’t—……’
There was a long silence during which Cecil and Leiber looked at each other apprehensively.
‘Thank you. Goodbye,’ said Karotski, and hung up the telephone.
For a minute he stood, rubbing his wrist as if in deep thought. Finally he looked up at Leiber.
‘Trouble again,’ he said.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Leiber.
‘Come on, we can’t talk about it in here.’
Karotski glanced about and plunged out of the restaurant again with Cecil and Leiber following.
‘Well, what happened?’ asked Leiber when they were safely onto a deserted back street.
‘They’ve got a cordon of troops around the government square and the park,’ said Karotski. ‘Nobody’s allowed through at all.’
‘Then that means we can’t get to the consulate or Sir Andrew’s house.’
‘Yes, but that’s not the worst of it. We can’t get to the main palace drain.’
Leiber stared at Karotski uneasily.
‘Do you mean the culvert is—’
‘Yes, it’s inside the cordon.’
‘But can’t we get down through another one?’
‘Yes, but the nearest one we can get down is over a hundred yards from the palace. We’d have to haul the dynamite through the sewer all that way on our heads…in the dark…in waist-deep water.’
‘I see,’ said Leiber. ‘What shall we do, then?’
Karotski went on without answering and Cecil and Leiber had to nearly run to keep up with him for he walked very quickly with his head down.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Cecil.
‘I’m thinking,’ replied Karotski.
They walked on at that desperate pace for some time. At last Karotski raised his head, glanced about him, and dove down a by-street while Leiber and Cecil dashed after him. They turned down street after street like a game of follow the leader, Karotski always well in front for he never seemed to get tired or remember that it was nearing lunch-time and they still had not had breakfast. The streets grew narrower and dirtier and generally sloped downwards.
At last they turned into one that was sunken in the middle and lined by rows of old houses, pressed up close against each other with long red rust stains running down their walls beneath the rain-gutters. A strange feeling came over Cecil suddenly. He tried to think what it was about this street that reminded him queerly of the ferry at Dover, but nothing came to mind. By the time they had nearly reached the end of the street he had narrowed it down to the smell—a strange, stagnant, briny smell different from pond water. They came to the end of the street and turned the corner.
Cecil caught his breath and nearly stopped. The houses ran along a little way and then stopped suddenly while a cement ledge ran along their fronts and beneath it, gently rocking a fleet of fishing boats, a dark green expanse of water stretched away into a dim blue horizon.
It was the harbour. Far away in the distance several ships lay at anchor, like great buildings stuck out in the water. A breeze came in from the open ocean and ran through Cecil’s hair. He tipped his head back and breathed deeply, watching, as he did, the sea-gulls flying in circles overhead. Here, eleven years ago, Sir Andrew had come with him and his mother. Perhaps one of those fishing boats below was the one which had saved their lives that night. Perhaps one of the ships in the harbour was the destroyer that had tried to run them down.
But all that was long ago. He was here now and there was a job to be done. He followed Karotski and Leiber around another corner and up to where the stone ledge ended in a railing. From here they could look down at a place where the sea came up against the buildings and flowed through a grating in a wall underneath the houses.
There’s where one of the main sewers comes out,’ said Karotski, pointing to the grating.
‘Are we going in from there, then?’ asked Leiber. ‘What about the dynamite? How are we going to haul it all that way?’
‘In flat-bottomed boats. The sewer workers take them up through this opening quite often when they have to make repairs.’
‘Are we going to do it in broad daylight?’
Karotski glanced around.
‘There is no one here to see us,’ he said and it was quite true: the ledge and the boats were deserted.
‘But won’t the sewer be blocked between here and the palace?’ asked Leiber.
‘We’ll find out,’ said Karotski.
They descended a flight of stone steps down onto a jetty which ran along beside the boats. There were a number of little flat-bottomed rowboats tied up alongside it, and into one of these they stepped without seeming to bother very much about whether or not it was private property.
They paddled up to the grating, the water making very little noise in that quiet place save when a swell came along and sent the water slapping against the stone walls. Karotski looked up at the building directly above them.
‘Looks as if it’s deserted,’ he said.
There were cobwebs in the windows and several panes were broken. What could be seen of the inside looked like mostly dusty boards and boxes.
‘It will suit us perfectly,’ explained Karotski. ‘All we have to do is drive the omnibus into the court on the other side, bring the dynamite through this building and lower it into boats from the window.’
‘By gum!’ said Leiber admiringly. ‘That’s a splendid plan!’
Karotski glowed with satisfaction.
‘Come on and help me get this grating open,’ he said, leaning out of the boat and fumbling at the chain that held it closed.
They worked away at it for several minutes and at last got the rusty grating open and paddled through. Thus began the trip up the sewer.
It was a strange voyage, there in the quiet semi-darkness with only an occasional glimmer of light from gutters and drains opening onto the street above. As they went on they could hear, as from far away, the sound of automobiles and other street noises up above them. They paddled on, up the watery arteries of the city. Sometimes they came to a place where the water came pouring down from a higher tunnel and here they often had to get out and lift the boat up over the edge into the current. Once they had gotten off of the main sewer line the water was shallow enough to stand up in, but it was very wet and unpleasant work and they often had to retrace their steps. Even with a street map which Karotski had brought along it was difficult to find their way.
It was a long, slow, almost dreamy journey except for the dampness and the work of lifting the boat along. Cecil felt at times as if they were travelling in the bowels of some huge stone animal. At last they came to a place where the water was too shallow to take the boat further. They got out and waded on, bent nearly double, for the tunnel had grown lower and narrower. If Cecil had been claustrophobic he would have felt terribly uncomfortable in the closeness, but he didn’t mind it much. It only reminded him of the space beneath the swimming pool at Mapleton.
They crept along and now it was really dark for there were no openings onto the street. They were underneath a building.
‘Shall I use my torch?’ asked Leiber.
‘No,’ said Karotski. ‘We’re nearly to the palace and we can’t risk being seen by the workers.’
They rounded a turn in the tunnel.
‘There,’ said Karotski. ‘Just round that corner is the opening under the palace.’
‘What do we do about the workers?’ asked Leiber.
‘They stop work early in the afternoon,’ said Karotski. ‘They’ll be gone by the time we bring up the dynamite.’
‘It’s very quiet,’ Leiber remarked.
They crept silently up to the corner where the sewer wall turned sharply. Karotski, being foremost, edged one eye cautiously around it and drew quickly back again. For a moment he stood as if perplexed, then he peered out again and this time stepped around the corner, glancing about as if looking for something.
Leiber and Cecil looked around too. A bit of pale light came down through a small hole in the metal lid of the culvert above them, allowing them to see fairly well. And now they received the greatest disappointment of that disappointing day.
The sewer was blocked by a sturdy iron grating like a medeival portcullis across the gate of a castle. There was no possible way past.
‘The workers must have finished sooner than we expected,’ said Leiber.
‘Last night, it looks like,’ said Karotski. ‘They must have worked later than usual. The mortar is set.’
‘Can’t we blast it out?’ asked Cecil.
‘The soldiers would hear and come get us before we had time to plant the dynamite under the palace,’ said Karotski.
‘There’s almost space between the bars for someone to get through,’ said Leiber; ‘but I don’t think any of us could make it.’
‘I think I can,’ said Cecil.
Karotski and Leiber turned to look closely at him. Cecil was rather short for his age and very thin, as boys are who are growing faster than their meals can keep up—and the food served at Mapleton consisted in the main of margarine and other unwholesome things.
‘Try it, Tzaddi,’ said Leiber.
Cecil crouched down and put his head through one of the squares between where the iron bars crossed each other. It was a tight squeeze after all—particularly at the shoulders—but he managed it.
‘If he doesn’t eat too much before this afternoon, he’ll make it,’ said Karotski approvingly.
‘Yes, but I thought we weren’t going to let him come,’ said Leiber, suddenly remembering.
‘No help for it. There isn’t anywhere we can take him where the soldiers mightn’t search, and anyhow, there’s no other way to get the dynamite through here.’
‘But he’ll have to carry it all himself.’
‘It isn’t much farther to the floor under the conference room and he can take it several sticks at a time.’
‘But how will he know how to lay them properly?’
‘I’ll give him instructions.’
‘I hope it will be all right,’ said Leiber.
‘Of course it will be. Now we must get back and get the dynamite and the rest of the men. We haven’t much more time.’
The conference room was a small chamber in the newer wing of the palace. Wakjavotski didn’t like conferences and had made it small on purpose. There was very little furniture in the room—only an oval table with several chairs around it and a Javotski party flag by the door.
Three men sat around the table that afternoon. They were Wakjavotski’s top henchmen and closest friends: Baden, von der Grosse, and Limbrügher. They sat listlessly, except for Baden who never expressed any emotion at all, not even boredom. Von der Grosse sprawled in his chair looking hot and tired with his legs spread out in front of him and one booted foot tapping the floor impatiently.
‘I wonder what’s keeping him,’ he remarked to nobody in particular. ‘I wish he’d get this meeting over with. I don’t even know why he called it in the first place. I’ve loads of work to do.’
‘It’s about the war, I imagine,’ said Limbrügher, resting his chin on his fist and his elbow on the table. ‘Isn’t that what it’s about, Baden?’
‘His Excellency didn’t inform me,’ said Baden.
‘Didn’t he?’ asked von der Grosse, surprised. ‘I thought he told you everything.’
Baden didn’t reply.
‘Well, it’s probably the war,’ said Limbrügher. ‘Only I would have expected him to call the admiral to the meeting as well.’
‘Oh, we don’t need the admiral,’ said von der Grosse. ‘All we need him for is to give orders to his nutshells in case anything happens at sea. The navy’s obsolete now. But at any rate, I don’t see why the Superior waited until the last minute to call us all in here. Why all this secrecy?’
He looked up and scanned the dim room, wondering at the noise and shivering in the early morning chill. Karotski and Leiber still sat up in their chairs but they were fast asleep with their faces on the table. They started simultaneously as the knocking was repeated and lifted their heads dazedly. Cecil jumped to his feet and was half-way down the stairs before the men in the room had had time to collect their wits.
‘Wait, Tzaddi, wait!’ called Leiber.
Cecil stopped where he was and finished waking up—he had only been half-way there until that moment. Of course it was quite foolish for him to go down until he knew who was at the door. The knocking came again and now that Cecil was fully alert he found that though it was firm it sounded somehow subdued.
Leiber hurried past him and Karotski appeared at the top of the stairs, watching and listening. Cecil heard Leiber open the door and the hurried conversation of the two parties. Presently a man came up the stairs with Leiber following.
‘What is it?’ asked Karotski.
‘Have you seen this?’ asked the man, whom Cecil recognised as one of the partisans, waving a paper.
Karotski took it and read over it. It was a copy of the poster that Baden had put out.
‘I expected them to know he was here,’ said Karotski with unconcern. ‘It doesn’t matter. They won’t find him.’
‘That’s what I came for,’ said the man. ‘The army’s searching houses.’
‘The army is?’
‘That’s right. They searched mine at five this morning and I came over here as soon as I could without being spotted.’
‘Which way were they headed?’
‘This way. There are bands of them searching this area. They’re not sparing any pains, that’s for sure. I heard about a raid in the Hungarian section yesterday.’
‘How far off are the nearest soldiers?’
‘The next house but one. I can’t help it; I ran all the way.’
Karotski did not hesitate.
‘Come on,’ he said to Cecil as he hurried past him down the stairs.
Cecil obeyed without speaking and Leiber followed them both as they left the shop through the back door. Nobody spoke until they had left that block and were pursuing their way in the early morning air on the semi-deserted streets. Then Cecil could not contain his curiosity any longer.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know yet,’ said Karotski, who was striding along at a firm and determined pace all the same. ‘We’ve got to keep you away from the soldiers somehow, but I don’t know of any place that they might not search.’
‘Should we take him to the British Consulate?’ asked Leiber.
‘They’re bound to be watching it. Besides, we don’t want to involve Fletcher. I’m sure they’re suspicious enough of him as it is.’
‘Where then?’ asked Leiber.
‘I don’t know,’ said Karotski. ‘Of course I should have expected something like this.’
It was not very pleasant to feel as if you were a nuisance to everybody, which was the way Cecil was feeling just then.
‘Perhaps we could try Sir Andrew’s house,’ he suggested. ‘They mightn’t be watching that.’
‘I was thinking so myself,’ admitted Karotski. ‘It’s a great risk to him, but it would only be for a few hours—just until after the assassination.’
Cecil looked up sharply.
‘What?’ he said. ‘I’m not coming on the job?’
‘No. Did you think you were? Of course we can’t risk you getting captured.’
‘But you let me come last night.’
‘It would have been more dangerous to leave you behind. This is different.’
‘But I had a splendid kind of fuse I was going to make and everything,’ said Cecil, quite crestfallen. ‘You don’t have a fuse for the dynamite yet, do you? It would have been a waterproof one and anyway, I want to see the explosion.’
‘I thought you didn’t like it,’ said Karotski.
‘We can’t bring you along because you might get hurt,’ said Leiber.
‘Besides which,’ said Karotski, who was more practical; ‘if you were to get killed, we’d have no one to put on the throne and all our labour would be useless. No, we can’t afford to lose you.’
‘I can’t send my men to do something without taking some of the danger myself,’ said Cecil firmly.
‘What do you mean, your men?’ asked Karotski.
‘Well, your men, then,’ said Cecil, feeling it weakened the argument somewhat. ‘I shall be their king.’
‘You’re not king yet and for now you have to do as I tell you.’
‘Will you let me go if I make you Prime Minister?’ asked Cecil.
‘No,’ said Karotski shortly.
‘Don’t try to bribe him,’ advised Leiber. ‘He’s utterly above corruption.’
Cecil felt terribly disappointed and he didn’t like feeling like a figurehead. But there was nothing he could do about it. Karotski was quite right—Cecil had to do as he said.
‘Well, you’re up early, Baden,’ said Wakjavotski as his minister entered the audience chamber later that morning.
Wakjavotski himself was an early riser but Baden was well-known for keeping late hours in less than creditable pursuits. Baden took this greeting as a sign that His Excellency was in a bad mood and tried to couch his information in a more acceptable form.
‘I wanted to be sure to see you before the meeting this afternoon. You’re usually so busy throughout the day that I thought this might be the most opportune moment and so got up before my usual time on purpose.’
‘How very self-sacrificing of you,’ said Wakjavotski drily. ‘And what tremendously time-sensitive information do you have to impart that it couldn’t wait a few more hours until the meeting? It can’t be that you’ve caught that person whose name I refuse to mention—that would be too much to hope for.’
‘No, we haven’t caught him,’ said Baden. ‘Apparently he has gotten in touch with the underground organisation, for a lorry of dynamite for blasting the new highway was stolen last night.’
‘Was it?’ asked Wakjavotski with sinister emphasis. ‘I suppose that means that they intend to blow up the palace over my head?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Baden in his calm, dry way. ‘You imagine yourself to be the object of every attack. After all, the revolutionaries would gain nothing by blowing up the palace. Their target is obviously either the arsenal or the fortress, therefore both of these have received an increased guard. Security at all key points has been tightened—even around the palace, so you may put your mind at rest on your own account.’
‘But they are still out there—ready to pounce wherever they choose—and the whole of my armed forces are unable to find them. Does that make sense? No!’
‘They are only a handful of untrained partisans who will be easy to mop up as soon as they are located and they will be soon, for they obviously mean to play their hand now that the prince is in their power. We can’t tell exactly where they will try to attack, but there are several bodies of troops dispersed throughout the capitol that can be instantly sent against them when they do appear. Wherever and whenever they strike, we will be ready for them.’
‘And what about the meantime? They could very well cause a revolt among the populace. They are probably distributing literature already.’
‘They could indeed start a revolt if they chose; the people are not very pleased just now. But it is your own fault for not listening to my advice about the reforms I suggested.’
‘What do you mean, reforms? I’m already implementing reforms left and right.’
‘Not the ones I told you to. You’re caught up in the military, but other areas are suffering as well. Transportation is insufficient, the public education system is a joke, food production is declining, the economy is failing, unemployment rates are higher than they’ve ever been; what have you done about it?’
‘I’ll have a committee look into the matter.’
‘You know your committees never solve any issues. You have to look into these matters yourself.’
‘I’ve more important things to do.’
‘You won’t have anything at all to do if you don’t. You won’t have a government anymore.’
‘Just let them try to oust me!’ said Wakjavotski. ‘I’ll crush them like a contemptible eggshell!’
He strode to the window and looked down on the government square that basked in the mid-morning sunshine and sported in its midst a statue of His Excellency, mounted on a horse (although he had never ridden one in his life and disliked the creatures) and giving the Javostski party salute.
‘Baden,’ he said reflectively; ‘you don’t really think they’re all that tired of me, do you?’
Baden remained studiously silent.
‘I mean after all I’ve done for them!’ Wakjavotski went on. ‘They should be very ungrateful if they did anything of the kind, and I won’t believe it of them, but you always talk so like a confounded automatic machine. I can never get to the bottom of you. I wonder if you’re really worried or if you only want me to be.’
‘I want you to attend to the things I’ve mentioned,’ said Baden.
‘I will think about it after the meeting,’ Wakjavotski conceded.
Cecil toiled along at Karotski’s heels, wishing they had not skipped breakfast and wondering how much longer it would be until dinner. He was also very sleepy and sore from all that had befallen him in the last few days and he wished Karotski would stop and let him rest. They had kept to back alleys at first but now that the sun was high and the streets filled with people, Karotski led him along main thoroughfares without worrying about detection. There were lots of boys in blue shorts and khaki sweaters for the police to pick up without having to single out Cecil.
‘What time, Leiber?’ called Karotski.
‘Ten till nine.’
‘He ought to be up by now,’ said Karotski and, to Cecil’s delight, he turned sharply and plunged into a restaurant.
The restaurant was crowded with late breakfasters and people who liked to sit a long time over their morning papers. There was not a spare table to be seen, but Karotski did not seem to be looking for one. He made his way straight to the back of the building where he found what he was looking for—a telephone.
Leiber and Cecil waited while Karotski picked up the receiver and gave Sir Andrew’s number. The pleasant smells of fried eggs and coffee combined with watching other people eating made them hungrier than ever.
Luckily, Karotski was able to get Sir Andrew on the telephone. Because all the telephone communications were bugged and they could never be sure whether someone else was listening to what they were saying, they had to converse in code, replacing evey important word with an unimportant substitute. Cecil couldn’t tell what exactly they were talking about from Karotski’s side of the conversation until Karotski exclaimed quite sharply,
‘What?….They are?…..Where, did you say?…..Then that means we can’t—……’
There was a long silence during which Cecil and Leiber looked at each other apprehensively.
‘Thank you. Goodbye,’ said Karotski, and hung up the telephone.
For a minute he stood, rubbing his wrist as if in deep thought. Finally he looked up at Leiber.
‘Trouble again,’ he said.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Leiber.
‘Come on, we can’t talk about it in here.’
Karotski glanced about and plunged out of the restaurant again with Cecil and Leiber following.
‘Well, what happened?’ asked Leiber when they were safely onto a deserted back street.
‘They’ve got a cordon of troops around the government square and the park,’ said Karotski. ‘Nobody’s allowed through at all.’
‘Then that means we can’t get to the consulate or Sir Andrew’s house.’
‘Yes, but that’s not the worst of it. We can’t get to the main palace drain.’
Leiber stared at Karotski uneasily.
‘Do you mean the culvert is—’
‘Yes, it’s inside the cordon.’
‘But can’t we get down through another one?’
‘Yes, but the nearest one we can get down is over a hundred yards from the palace. We’d have to haul the dynamite through the sewer all that way on our heads…in the dark…in waist-deep water.’
‘I see,’ said Leiber. ‘What shall we do, then?’
Karotski went on without answering and Cecil and Leiber had to nearly run to keep up with him for he walked very quickly with his head down.
‘What are we going to do?’ asked Cecil.
‘I’m thinking,’ replied Karotski.
They walked on at that desperate pace for some time. At last Karotski raised his head, glanced about him, and dove down a by-street while Leiber and Cecil dashed after him. They turned down street after street like a game of follow the leader, Karotski always well in front for he never seemed to get tired or remember that it was nearing lunch-time and they still had not had breakfast. The streets grew narrower and dirtier and generally sloped downwards.
At last they turned into one that was sunken in the middle and lined by rows of old houses, pressed up close against each other with long red rust stains running down their walls beneath the rain-gutters. A strange feeling came over Cecil suddenly. He tried to think what it was about this street that reminded him queerly of the ferry at Dover, but nothing came to mind. By the time they had nearly reached the end of the street he had narrowed it down to the smell—a strange, stagnant, briny smell different from pond water. They came to the end of the street and turned the corner.
Cecil caught his breath and nearly stopped. The houses ran along a little way and then stopped suddenly while a cement ledge ran along their fronts and beneath it, gently rocking a fleet of fishing boats, a dark green expanse of water stretched away into a dim blue horizon.
It was the harbour. Far away in the distance several ships lay at anchor, like great buildings stuck out in the water. A breeze came in from the open ocean and ran through Cecil’s hair. He tipped his head back and breathed deeply, watching, as he did, the sea-gulls flying in circles overhead. Here, eleven years ago, Sir Andrew had come with him and his mother. Perhaps one of those fishing boats below was the one which had saved their lives that night. Perhaps one of the ships in the harbour was the destroyer that had tried to run them down.
But all that was long ago. He was here now and there was a job to be done. He followed Karotski and Leiber around another corner and up to where the stone ledge ended in a railing. From here they could look down at a place where the sea came up against the buildings and flowed through a grating in a wall underneath the houses.
There’s where one of the main sewers comes out,’ said Karotski, pointing to the grating.
‘Are we going in from there, then?’ asked Leiber. ‘What about the dynamite? How are we going to haul it all that way?’
‘In flat-bottomed boats. The sewer workers take them up through this opening quite often when they have to make repairs.’
‘Are we going to do it in broad daylight?’
Karotski glanced around.
‘There is no one here to see us,’ he said and it was quite true: the ledge and the boats were deserted.
‘But won’t the sewer be blocked between here and the palace?’ asked Leiber.
‘We’ll find out,’ said Karotski.
They descended a flight of stone steps down onto a jetty which ran along beside the boats. There were a number of little flat-bottomed rowboats tied up alongside it, and into one of these they stepped without seeming to bother very much about whether or not it was private property.
They paddled up to the grating, the water making very little noise in that quiet place save when a swell came along and sent the water slapping against the stone walls. Karotski looked up at the building directly above them.
‘Looks as if it’s deserted,’ he said.
There were cobwebs in the windows and several panes were broken. What could be seen of the inside looked like mostly dusty boards and boxes.
‘It will suit us perfectly,’ explained Karotski. ‘All we have to do is drive the omnibus into the court on the other side, bring the dynamite through this building and lower it into boats from the window.’
‘By gum!’ said Leiber admiringly. ‘That’s a splendid plan!’
Karotski glowed with satisfaction.
‘Come on and help me get this grating open,’ he said, leaning out of the boat and fumbling at the chain that held it closed.
They worked away at it for several minutes and at last got the rusty grating open and paddled through. Thus began the trip up the sewer.
It was a strange voyage, there in the quiet semi-darkness with only an occasional glimmer of light from gutters and drains opening onto the street above. As they went on they could hear, as from far away, the sound of automobiles and other street noises up above them. They paddled on, up the watery arteries of the city. Sometimes they came to a place where the water came pouring down from a higher tunnel and here they often had to get out and lift the boat up over the edge into the current. Once they had gotten off of the main sewer line the water was shallow enough to stand up in, but it was very wet and unpleasant work and they often had to retrace their steps. Even with a street map which Karotski had brought along it was difficult to find their way.
It was a long, slow, almost dreamy journey except for the dampness and the work of lifting the boat along. Cecil felt at times as if they were travelling in the bowels of some huge stone animal. At last they came to a place where the water was too shallow to take the boat further. They got out and waded on, bent nearly double, for the tunnel had grown lower and narrower. If Cecil had been claustrophobic he would have felt terribly uncomfortable in the closeness, but he didn’t mind it much. It only reminded him of the space beneath the swimming pool at Mapleton.
They crept along and now it was really dark for there were no openings onto the street. They were underneath a building.
‘Shall I use my torch?’ asked Leiber.
‘No,’ said Karotski. ‘We’re nearly to the palace and we can’t risk being seen by the workers.’
They rounded a turn in the tunnel.
‘There,’ said Karotski. ‘Just round that corner is the opening under the palace.’
‘What do we do about the workers?’ asked Leiber.
‘They stop work early in the afternoon,’ said Karotski. ‘They’ll be gone by the time we bring up the dynamite.’
‘It’s very quiet,’ Leiber remarked.
They crept silently up to the corner where the sewer wall turned sharply. Karotski, being foremost, edged one eye cautiously around it and drew quickly back again. For a moment he stood as if perplexed, then he peered out again and this time stepped around the corner, glancing about as if looking for something.
Leiber and Cecil looked around too. A bit of pale light came down through a small hole in the metal lid of the culvert above them, allowing them to see fairly well. And now they received the greatest disappointment of that disappointing day.
The sewer was blocked by a sturdy iron grating like a medeival portcullis across the gate of a castle. There was no possible way past.
‘The workers must have finished sooner than we expected,’ said Leiber.
‘Last night, it looks like,’ said Karotski. ‘They must have worked later than usual. The mortar is set.’
‘Can’t we blast it out?’ asked Cecil.
‘The soldiers would hear and come get us before we had time to plant the dynamite under the palace,’ said Karotski.
‘There’s almost space between the bars for someone to get through,’ said Leiber; ‘but I don’t think any of us could make it.’
‘I think I can,’ said Cecil.
Karotski and Leiber turned to look closely at him. Cecil was rather short for his age and very thin, as boys are who are growing faster than their meals can keep up—and the food served at Mapleton consisted in the main of margarine and other unwholesome things.
‘Try it, Tzaddi,’ said Leiber.
Cecil crouched down and put his head through one of the squares between where the iron bars crossed each other. It was a tight squeeze after all—particularly at the shoulders—but he managed it.
‘If he doesn’t eat too much before this afternoon, he’ll make it,’ said Karotski approvingly.
‘Yes, but I thought we weren’t going to let him come,’ said Leiber, suddenly remembering.
‘No help for it. There isn’t anywhere we can take him where the soldiers mightn’t search, and anyhow, there’s no other way to get the dynamite through here.’
‘But he’ll have to carry it all himself.’
‘It isn’t much farther to the floor under the conference room and he can take it several sticks at a time.’
‘But how will he know how to lay them properly?’
‘I’ll give him instructions.’
‘I hope it will be all right,’ said Leiber.
‘Of course it will be. Now we must get back and get the dynamite and the rest of the men. We haven’t much more time.’
The conference room was a small chamber in the newer wing of the palace. Wakjavotski didn’t like conferences and had made it small on purpose. There was very little furniture in the room—only an oval table with several chairs around it and a Javotski party flag by the door.
Three men sat around the table that afternoon. They were Wakjavotski’s top henchmen and closest friends: Baden, von der Grosse, and Limbrügher. They sat listlessly, except for Baden who never expressed any emotion at all, not even boredom. Von der Grosse sprawled in his chair looking hot and tired with his legs spread out in front of him and one booted foot tapping the floor impatiently.
‘I wonder what’s keeping him,’ he remarked to nobody in particular. ‘I wish he’d get this meeting over with. I don’t even know why he called it in the first place. I’ve loads of work to do.’
‘It’s about the war, I imagine,’ said Limbrügher, resting his chin on his fist and his elbow on the table. ‘Isn’t that what it’s about, Baden?’
‘His Excellency didn’t inform me,’ said Baden.
‘Didn’t he?’ asked von der Grosse, surprised. ‘I thought he told you everything.’
Baden didn’t reply.
‘Well, it’s probably the war,’ said Limbrügher. ‘Only I would have expected him to call the admiral to the meeting as well.’
‘Oh, we don’t need the admiral,’ said von der Grosse. ‘All we need him for is to give orders to his nutshells in case anything happens at sea. The navy’s obsolete now. But at any rate, I don’t see why the Superior waited until the last minute to call us all in here. Why all this secrecy?’
‘Maybe he didn’t want the German officials to hear about it,’ suggested Limbrügher. ‘They’ve been so nosy. They came down to one of our aerodromes yesterday and insisted on being shown our new planes that were made after the French model. I almost told them no.’
‘You should have. They think they can do what they like with us.’
‘Wakjavotski wants us to humour them.’
‘Upstarts!’
The conversation paused at this point as the double doors of the room swung open in unison and Wakjavotski was disclosed to the view of his ministers, dressed in his uniform and giving the party salute.
The men around the table rose and applauded in due form.
‘Cut,’ said Wakjavotski peremptorily to the two guards who had opened the doors for him.
They saluted and departed, closing the doors behind them. Wakjavotski strode forward and took a chair at the head of the table—that is, he pulled it out and positioned himself between it and the table, but remained standing while his ministers took their seats.
‘All right,’ he said; ‘first things first. This meeting is called to discuss the war.’
‘Just as I expected,’ said Limbrügher.
Wakjavotski looked at him severely and went on.
‘To proceed: there are many things to be discussed and no doubt they should have been discussed much sooner, but better late than never. In the first place, we’re in with Germany now for better or for worse and that means we’ve got to help them fight a war with France and Britain. Of course this will not be easy, but it will be entirely worth it.’
‘Provided Germany doesn’t decide to pitch into us next,’ remarked von der Grosse pessimistically. ‘And if the Germans don’t try anything, the Russians will—and don’t bother to give a speech here because it’s a waste of time; we’ve heard all that already.’
‘Very well, I won’t give a speech, then,’ said Wakjavotski with an air that was meant to imply that they would be deprived of an event of historical import. ‘You speak of Germany and Russia playing tricks with us. The truth is that we are playing tricks with them.’
‘We can’t do anything against either of them and they know it,’ said von der Grosse.
‘No. But we’ve pulled the wool over their eyes. The Germans think we’re Fascist, the Russians think we’re Communist, and the Italians think we’re Imperialist.’
‘What gave them that idea?’ asked Limbrügher, confused.
‘I did. It takes more than brains or brawn to stay on the good side of three diametrically opposing parties—it takes diplomacy as well. Now, although they’d hate to be told it, there are components of all those parties that agree. All I’ve done is subscribed quite strongly to those components and I’ve convinced each of the three States that our own Pyromania is completely in agreement with each of them. They haven’t any idea what goes on behind the scenes, of course. The Russians hate the Germans who hate them back and both of them despise Italy, but they all think Pyromania is a satellite of their own.’
‘But we’re not, are we?’ asked Limbrügher.
‘Of course we’re not.’
Baden spoke for the first time during the meeting.
‘In effect we are because they could make things highly unpleasant for us unless we do what they say. If Russia and Germany go to war, they’ll tear us apart between them.’
Wakjavotski began a chuckle that ended in an evil chortle.
‘They think so, don’t they?’ he asked.
‘So do I,’ said Baden.
‘That’s what I called this meeting for,’ said Wakjavotski. ‘I wanted all three of you together in this bug-proof room to tell you of something that must not be breathed of outside our circle as yet.’
The ministers leaned forward in interest.
‘A great secret,’ continued Wakjavotski; ‘a secret that would keep all our great allies in line; that could easily decide the war in our favour; a secret that could make Pyromania the greatest State in the world…’
He paused dramatically.
‘As yet no one must know of this secret, but I will tell you a little of what our scientists have discovered—’
‘Is that all?’ asked von der Grosse disappointedly. ‘Just another of those crack-brained inventions? I thought it was going to be something big.’
‘Shut up!’ said Wakjavotski reddening. ‘I haven’t finished. It’s a secret weapon!’
‘What’s it going to do?’ asked von der Grosse suspiciously. ‘No secret weapon ever won a war yet. It takes men and arms to win battles.’
‘We can’t compete with the other countries in armies,’ said Wakjavotski. ‘We’re too small. We must wage a different kind of war. But I tell you that this invention will tip the scale in our favour. No one will be able to resist us, and when I’ve finished, there will be no Fascism, no Communism, no Imperialism, no liberalism, no nominalism, no Zen-Bhuddism the whole world over; there will be only glorious Javotskism and nothing else!’
But even as he spoke his doom was approaching and MENE MENE TEKEL UPHARSIN was written with invisible fingers on the wall (metaphorically, of course).
‘What is this secret weapon?’ asked Baden.
‘It’s a—’
KABOOM!!!
Dust percolated through the smoke that drifted lazily up from the rubble of the wrecked room. The windowless walls gaped out onto the palace gardens through several large and ragged holes. From beneath a fragment of the once-beautiful mahogany oval table a battered and blackened figure crawled. It was Wakjavotski.
‘Air raid!’ he gasped in a smoke-choked voice.
At the sound of it, several other pieces of the table began to move and the three other ministers materialised out of the ashes. Personal damages were significant. Von der Grosse had lost a leg of his trousers, Baden’s coat was in shreds, and Limbrügher’s eyebrows had been singed off.
‘Help!’ choked Limbrügher.
‘Air raid! It’s an air raid! To the anti-aircraft guns, you idiots!’ cried Wakjavotski feverishly.
‘I don’t think the explosion was from a bomb,’ said von der Grosse, getting shakily to his feet and examining a crater that took up most of what was formerly the conference room floor. ‘It looks as if it came from below.’
‘Dynamite planted under the foundation,’ said Baden.
‘Dynamite!’ exclaimed Wakjavotski. ‘So you thought I wasn’t the target, eh? Fortunately for me I’m impregnable, otherwise I’d have been blown to particles. And now I suppose those revolutionaries will try to start a coup.’
A group of guards rushed into the room at that moment.
‘Hoch Wakjavotski!’ they said. ‘Nobody move or we shoot!’
‘You idiots! It’s only us in here,’ said Wakjavotski.
‘But the explosion—’
‘Get out and surround the building!’ commanded von der Grosse. ‘Don’t let anyone get away.’
The soldiers rushed out obediently and the four unsightly characters followed, entering an undamaged smoking room adjoining.
‘The city’s crawling with soldiers,’ said von der Grosse. ‘I’ve had a whole battalion posted around the palace on Baden’s insistence. They won’t get away.’
‘It’s useless,’ said Baden. ‘They’re in the sewers obviously.’
‘They must be caught at all costs,’ said Wakjavotski. ‘I won’t put up with your blundering any more. You’re all incompetent!’
‘I’ll send my men down there right away,’ said von der Grosse.
‘And I suppose they’ll blunder around down there in the sewer scum while the insurrectionists escape?’ said Wakjavotski. ‘The sewers are so extensive your soldiers will never be able to find them. They couldn’t find a needle in a pincushion.’
‘Cunning devils!’ said Limbrügher. ‘They laid their plans well.’
‘Well, Baden?’ asked Wakjavotski accusingly. ‘You were so sure they wouldn’t attack the palace.’
‘I tried to warn you,’ said Baden. ‘What else could you expect with the way you were running things?’
‘And now you’re going to throw up the sponge? Don’t you have any suggestions for catching them?’
‘I’m not a military mind. I made precautions, but I admit I didn’t consider the sewers.’
‘Fine! Just fine!’ said Wakjavotski, sinking into an armchair.
The telephone rang and Limbrügher absently answered it.
‘It’s Zköllmann,’ he said, handing the telephone to Wakjavotski. ‘He wants to know what’s happened.’
‘He does, does he?’ said Wakjavotski, taking the receiver. ‘Hello! So you want to know what’s happened? You should know all about it already: that’s what you secret police are paid for.’
The voice on the other end of the line was calm.
‘Oh, so you suspected it, did you?’ said Wakjavotski drily. ‘And you have a plan all worked out, do you? How do plan to catch them in the sewers, eh?….What?…You do?….But—but that’s—ingenious!’
‘What does he say?’ asked von der Grosse as Wakjavotski hung up the telephone.
‘He’s a master-mind!’ exclaimed Wakjavotski, his temper entirely restored. ‘Baden, remind me to give that fellow a medal. So…they thought they’d blow up me, did they?’
He rubbed his hands together and laughed outright.‘Ha! Ha! We’ll drown them like a lot of sewer rats!’
‘You should have. They think they can do what they like with us.’
‘Wakjavotski wants us to humour them.’
‘Upstarts!’
The conversation paused at this point as the double doors of the room swung open in unison and Wakjavotski was disclosed to the view of his ministers, dressed in his uniform and giving the party salute.
The men around the table rose and applauded in due form.
‘Cut,’ said Wakjavotski peremptorily to the two guards who had opened the doors for him.
They saluted and departed, closing the doors behind them. Wakjavotski strode forward and took a chair at the head of the table—that is, he pulled it out and positioned himself between it and the table, but remained standing while his ministers took their seats.
‘All right,’ he said; ‘first things first. This meeting is called to discuss the war.’
‘Just as I expected,’ said Limbrügher.
Wakjavotski looked at him severely and went on.
‘To proceed: there are many things to be discussed and no doubt they should have been discussed much sooner, but better late than never. In the first place, we’re in with Germany now for better or for worse and that means we’ve got to help them fight a war with France and Britain. Of course this will not be easy, but it will be entirely worth it.’
‘Provided Germany doesn’t decide to pitch into us next,’ remarked von der Grosse pessimistically. ‘And if the Germans don’t try anything, the Russians will—and don’t bother to give a speech here because it’s a waste of time; we’ve heard all that already.’
‘Very well, I won’t give a speech, then,’ said Wakjavotski with an air that was meant to imply that they would be deprived of an event of historical import. ‘You speak of Germany and Russia playing tricks with us. The truth is that we are playing tricks with them.’
‘We can’t do anything against either of them and they know it,’ said von der Grosse.
‘No. But we’ve pulled the wool over their eyes. The Germans think we’re Fascist, the Russians think we’re Communist, and the Italians think we’re Imperialist.’
‘What gave them that idea?’ asked Limbrügher, confused.
‘I did. It takes more than brains or brawn to stay on the good side of three diametrically opposing parties—it takes diplomacy as well. Now, although they’d hate to be told it, there are components of all those parties that agree. All I’ve done is subscribed quite strongly to those components and I’ve convinced each of the three States that our own Pyromania is completely in agreement with each of them. They haven’t any idea what goes on behind the scenes, of course. The Russians hate the Germans who hate them back and both of them despise Italy, but they all think Pyromania is a satellite of their own.’
‘But we’re not, are we?’ asked Limbrügher.
‘Of course we’re not.’
Baden spoke for the first time during the meeting.
‘In effect we are because they could make things highly unpleasant for us unless we do what they say. If Russia and Germany go to war, they’ll tear us apart between them.’
Wakjavotski began a chuckle that ended in an evil chortle.
‘They think so, don’t they?’ he asked.
‘So do I,’ said Baden.
‘That’s what I called this meeting for,’ said Wakjavotski. ‘I wanted all three of you together in this bug-proof room to tell you of something that must not be breathed of outside our circle as yet.’
The ministers leaned forward in interest.
‘A great secret,’ continued Wakjavotski; ‘a secret that would keep all our great allies in line; that could easily decide the war in our favour; a secret that could make Pyromania the greatest State in the world…’
He paused dramatically.
‘As yet no one must know of this secret, but I will tell you a little of what our scientists have discovered—’
‘Is that all?’ asked von der Grosse disappointedly. ‘Just another of those crack-brained inventions? I thought it was going to be something big.’
‘Shut up!’ said Wakjavotski reddening. ‘I haven’t finished. It’s a secret weapon!’
‘What’s it going to do?’ asked von der Grosse suspiciously. ‘No secret weapon ever won a war yet. It takes men and arms to win battles.’
‘We can’t compete with the other countries in armies,’ said Wakjavotski. ‘We’re too small. We must wage a different kind of war. But I tell you that this invention will tip the scale in our favour. No one will be able to resist us, and when I’ve finished, there will be no Fascism, no Communism, no Imperialism, no liberalism, no nominalism, no Zen-Bhuddism the whole world over; there will be only glorious Javotskism and nothing else!’
But even as he spoke his doom was approaching and MENE MENE TEKEL UPHARSIN was written with invisible fingers on the wall (metaphorically, of course).
‘What is this secret weapon?’ asked Baden.
‘It’s a—’
KABOOM!!!
Dust percolated through the smoke that drifted lazily up from the rubble of the wrecked room. The windowless walls gaped out onto the palace gardens through several large and ragged holes. From beneath a fragment of the once-beautiful mahogany oval table a battered and blackened figure crawled. It was Wakjavotski.
‘Air raid!’ he gasped in a smoke-choked voice.
At the sound of it, several other pieces of the table began to move and the three other ministers materialised out of the ashes. Personal damages were significant. Von der Grosse had lost a leg of his trousers, Baden’s coat was in shreds, and Limbrügher’s eyebrows had been singed off.
‘Help!’ choked Limbrügher.
‘Air raid! It’s an air raid! To the anti-aircraft guns, you idiots!’ cried Wakjavotski feverishly.
‘I don’t think the explosion was from a bomb,’ said von der Grosse, getting shakily to his feet and examining a crater that took up most of what was formerly the conference room floor. ‘It looks as if it came from below.’
‘Dynamite planted under the foundation,’ said Baden.
‘Dynamite!’ exclaimed Wakjavotski. ‘So you thought I wasn’t the target, eh? Fortunately for me I’m impregnable, otherwise I’d have been blown to particles. And now I suppose those revolutionaries will try to start a coup.’
A group of guards rushed into the room at that moment.
‘Hoch Wakjavotski!’ they said. ‘Nobody move or we shoot!’
‘You idiots! It’s only us in here,’ said Wakjavotski.
‘But the explosion—’
‘Get out and surround the building!’ commanded von der Grosse. ‘Don’t let anyone get away.’
The soldiers rushed out obediently and the four unsightly characters followed, entering an undamaged smoking room adjoining.
‘The city’s crawling with soldiers,’ said von der Grosse. ‘I’ve had a whole battalion posted around the palace on Baden’s insistence. They won’t get away.’
‘It’s useless,’ said Baden. ‘They’re in the sewers obviously.’
‘They must be caught at all costs,’ said Wakjavotski. ‘I won’t put up with your blundering any more. You’re all incompetent!’
‘I’ll send my men down there right away,’ said von der Grosse.
‘And I suppose they’ll blunder around down there in the sewer scum while the insurrectionists escape?’ said Wakjavotski. ‘The sewers are so extensive your soldiers will never be able to find them. They couldn’t find a needle in a pincushion.’
‘Cunning devils!’ said Limbrügher. ‘They laid their plans well.’
‘Well, Baden?’ asked Wakjavotski accusingly. ‘You were so sure they wouldn’t attack the palace.’
‘I tried to warn you,’ said Baden. ‘What else could you expect with the way you were running things?’
‘And now you’re going to throw up the sponge? Don’t you have any suggestions for catching them?’
‘I’m not a military mind. I made precautions, but I admit I didn’t consider the sewers.’
‘Fine! Just fine!’ said Wakjavotski, sinking into an armchair.
The telephone rang and Limbrügher absently answered it.
‘It’s Zköllmann,’ he said, handing the telephone to Wakjavotski. ‘He wants to know what’s happened.’
‘He does, does he?’ said Wakjavotski, taking the receiver. ‘Hello! So you want to know what’s happened? You should know all about it already: that’s what you secret police are paid for.’
The voice on the other end of the line was calm.
‘Oh, so you suspected it, did you?’ said Wakjavotski drily. ‘And you have a plan all worked out, do you? How do plan to catch them in the sewers, eh?….What?…You do?….But—but that’s—ingenious!’
‘What does he say?’ asked von der Grosse as Wakjavotski hung up the telephone.
‘He’s a master-mind!’ exclaimed Wakjavotski, his temper entirely restored. ‘Baden, remind me to give that fellow a medal. So…they thought they’d blow up me, did they?’
He rubbed his hands together and laughed outright.‘Ha! Ha! We’ll drown them like a lot of sewer rats!’
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