Geek Tragedy (17 page)

‘
Okay!
Okay… Would you like to know how I discovered it was Bernard who was stealing from the studio?’

‘Gosh, would I?’ The Maaganoid wobbled excitedly. ‘I’d be thrilled in the extreme.’

‘Well it looks like we’re not going anywhere, and I’m entertaining a faint hope that if I do tell you, you might stop talking for five minutes, so… All right. But this goes no further. I’ve done enough to ruin his life without the details finding their way into some photocopied fan rag.’

‘I promise I won’t tell. I swear.’

‘All right… Well, let me think… It all started during filming at TV Centre. It was a hectic day. Not enough bodies on set, as usual… Not quite as bad as the last day of filming series two after that bloody general election, but still pretty bad. Anyway, one of the Styrax got damaged. The paintwork got chipped when it ran into a wall or something, and Nicholas wrote a note for Bernard to fix it urgently. He would have told him personally but things were getting very fraught. He fixed a Post-it note on his desk in his workshop and rushed off. The next thing I knew there was uproar on the floor. They’d started filming again after lunch, but when the Styrax got wheeled out it was still broken. Nothing had been done to it.’

‘Wow. You mean the note had fallen off?’

‘No. It was still there, in plain view on Bernard’s desk where Nicholas had stuck it. Naturally Nicholas was furious with Bernard—didn’t understand why he hadn’t fixed it. Bernard was giving him all this flannel about being rushed off his feet that day, but that was nonsense.’

‘Was Bernard bunking off somewhere?’

‘No. He’s just not that type. Bernard—well, he’s unpleasant, rude, bad-tempered and a right pain in everybody’s arse… But he’s not lazy.’

‘Then why?’

‘It was only much later that I realised that his assistant had called in sick that day. That this was the first time I’d seen Bernard do any work on his own.’

‘Then why didn’t he fix the Styrax?’

‘Only one possible explanation. Bernard couldn’t read.’

‘Couldn’t read?
No!
’

‘Yes. Couldn’t read. He was illiterate… Or perhaps extremely dyslexic. I’ve never been particularly friendly with him, as you can guess, so I never had the guts to ask which.’

‘But… How?’

‘How what?’

‘How could he get a job at the BBC? How could he even function on a show like
Vixens
and not be able to read?’

‘Oh, there are ways. I did a bit of reading up about it. You’ll be amazed at the things people who can’t read do to try to keep their secret. Writing certain words on their sleeves so they can recognise them in everyday situations, “questioning” the fine print of documents so they can get someone else to unwittingly explain what’s on them… And it was especially easy for Bernard. He originally came in as a freelance contractor because Nicholas liked his work on another show. He insisted on bringing in an assistant. His girlfriend. She must have explained all the paperwork to him.’

‘Wow. That’s just… Just… Wow.’

‘Anyway, it was pretty obvious that’s what was wrong—to me, at least. Nicholas just assumed Bernard had been playing silly buggers, so I didn’t let on what I knew. I didn’t want to get Bernard into trouble. Ironic really.’

‘So when things started disappearing from the studio…’

‘It took a while for me to cotton on, but I did start to suspect Bernard. A lot of the stolen stuff was just too specific; obvious valuable stuff was ignored in favour of props that collectors might be interested in…’

‘Lots of people would know how valuable they’d be.’

‘That’s true. But these were props that we’d practically finished using, so they wouldn’t be missed for days. None of the stuff went missing in a way that was inconvenient to, or made work for, the design department. So I thought it was one of them—and Bernard had been very vocal about being short-changed by the corporation.’

‘Yes, I read about that. He was annoyed about designing the Styrax and you getting all that money for the Styrax merchandising and him getting…sod…all…’ Stuart’s flow of words dried to a trickle. The gigantic penis seemed to shrivel with embarrassment. ‘I was just saying what he said in his interviews,’ Stuart mumbled, lamely. ‘I don’t agree with it, necessarily.’

‘Quite. Anyway, I thought it was Bernard, and as I knew he had reading difficulties, I decided to use that knowledge to test my theory. I got the pilot episode out of the BBC archive and left it in the production office.’

‘The
pilot episode? The unscreened one?’

‘Yes, that’s the one. I thought that, of everything we had, it would be worth the most to any collector.’

‘Cor yeah… You could say that. I mean, before the BBC videos came out, I used to dream of seeing that episode… I remember at university someone got hold of this manky tenth-generation copy from a mate in this fan club in Exeter and we all squeezed into Nigel’s bedroom to watch it, because he was the only one with a VCR. My goodness it was ropey. The special effects were even worse than the series proper. I’ve done that episode too, updated the ships, new gun blasts, improved it, added more effects, and as it was a third-generation copy, I’ve managed to get rid of the hiss—’ Mervyn’s Styrax hissed too, loudly and meaningfully. ‘Sorry. Carry on.’

‘Anyway… I left it in the production office. Only I didn’t. I took the tape out
first
and
then
left the canister in the office—with a note on it which said something like “To whom it may concern. I would like to emphasise to anyone reading this missive that the tape within this case is not, despite appearance to the contrary, THE PILOT EPISODE OF
VIXENS FROM THE VOID
. It does however, contain within its confines a rather mediocre edition of
Blankety Blank
, which I’m reliably informed has little fiscal value to the myriad legions of
Vixens
fandom’—something like that. I filled it with big long words and put the important bit—‘the pilot episode of
Vixens from the Void
’—in big, heavy capital letters. To anyone else it just looked like some kind of incomprehensible practical joke; but to Bernard it must have looked like ‘blah blah blah blah blah PILOT EPISODE OF
VIXENS FROM THE VOID
blah blah blah’. If it went from the office, I’d know for sure. And sure enough, last thing on Friday, it disappeared. I checked no one had cleared it away, and then I went to see Nicholas. Ten minutes later we were watching a security guard forcing Bernard to open up his car and Bernard throwing every expletive at us he could think of. We found the canister under a travel rug, along with two Groolian blasters and a laser probe from Professor Daxatar’s toolkit.’

‘Wow, that’s amazing… Brilliant. You must have been so excited.’

‘It was one of the worst days of my life.
He
was the one exposed as a thief, and I’d never felt so embarrassed.’

There was a long silence.

‘Wait a minute Mr St—Mervyn… He was signing autographs, yesterday. I saw him.’

‘He’s learned how to do that. He’s got his reading up to elementary standard. Were you there when he threw a fit about doing lengthy personal messages? Shouting that he’s only prepared to do his signature and nothing else? That’s why. He can copy out a few words, but not much more.’

‘Wow. Just. Wow.’

The conversation between the Maaganoid and the Styrax glided to a halt, save for an occasional ‘wow’ ejaculated by the Maaganoid.

Suddenly, Mervyn saw salvation. Salvation wearing tweeds, a cravat and a fancy waistcoat.

‘Roddy! Major! Over here!’

The crusty old actor gave a start. He froze mid-amble. ‘Who the devil’s there? Show yourselves!’

‘Over here! By the stage.’

Roddy wandered up, his eyes roving around the ballroom.

‘Look, Major, I know this is a bit odd, but my friend—well, associate—and I are both trapped inside these things, and we’d really appreciate it if you could let us out.’

Roddy was listening, definitely. Mervyn was sure he could hear them. But the old actor’s expression was one of benign disbelief, a half-amused, incredulous face that looked like it was all too used to the old hearing-voices-come-from-nowhere game.

‘Major?’

He gave a slow grin; a wise, comprehending smile that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a small boy on his first visit to Disneyland—meeting Mickey Mouse and noticing the mouse’s face didn’t move when it spoke. ‘Don’t you worry old chaps. You just sit tight. I’ll just head off and organise a rescue mission.’

‘No wait! You’ve just got to undo the latches!’

‘Sit tight. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ He disappeared from the room.

‘Oh. Well, not to worry,’ said Stuart brightly. ‘He’ll probably be back in a minute.’

‘Somehow I’m not filled with confidence that we’ll ever see Roddy again. He’s not the sharpest pencil in the desk.’

‘Wait!’ said Stuart excitedly. ‘I can see your latch from here. It’s not been fastened properly.’

‘It has. I can’t get the hatch open—I’ve tried.’

‘No, it’s only been half-done. It’s like those big latches you used to get on old-fashioned vacuum cleaners. The catch is in two parts. You pull the metal loop over a notch, then push the handle down so it locks with the loop fastened underneath. Yours only has the loop pulled down. The handle hasn’t been locked in place.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t speak Ikean. What are you saying?’

‘Are you able to jiggle your middle?’

The lack of oxygen had made Mervyn a bit befuddled. ‘You mean like a belly dancer?’

‘The middle of the
Styrax.
If you jiggle the door, you might free the loop.’

Mervyn jiggled, and kept on jiggling until his arms were aching. The loop rattled enticingly but the hatch stayed stubbornly in place. He finally gave up. ‘That’s it. I can’t do it any more.’

‘That’s it!’ shrieked Stuart. ‘When you let it fall back just then. The loop’s free. It’s not under the notch anymore. Just ease the hatch open…slowly.’

Mervyn did so, and the door creaked open. He hauled himself out of the Styrax like a swimmer breaking the surface of the water, his nostrils gaping as they sucked in the cool air. He wobbled over to the Maaganoid. He released the catch and Stuart appeared, making similar grateful gasping noises; he wobbled about rubbing his legs and then stood there for a long time, his hands on his knees, staring at the carpet.

He pulled himself up and looked at Mervyn, who was lying across three seats in the first row, hands on chest, nose pointed at the ceiling. Stuart jerked a finger at the Styrax. ‘Did…phew…did you notice how the insides of those monsters are padded with papier-mâché?’

Mervyn didn’t answer, he just nodded and gave a breathless thumbs-up.

‘That’s what makes them so hot. All that newspaper. Have a look.’

‘No thanks. I’m well aware.’

‘Oh. Ah…huf…’ Stuart straightened up. ‘Okay. Good. Thank heavens we’re out of there. Now we can investigate properly,’ he said.

Mervyn stared at him disbelievingly.

‘See you in your room in half an hour,’ Stuart hollered cheerily, and ran out of the door.

It was only after he’d disappeared into the depths of the hotel that Mervyn realised he hadn’t actually told Stuart his room number.

If Mervyn and Stuart had bothered to hang about a few more minutes, they’d have seen Roddy Burgess coming back into the main hall. He walked up to the stage, and wrestled the back off the Styrax. He peered into the sweaty interior.

Nothing. No one in there.

Just as he thought.

‘I know your game, you foul robot fiend,’ he growled, backing away. ‘Both of you. Don’t think I don’t know what you lot did. Your leader killed that quisling Josh. Very clever to lure him inside like that. Not that I blame you chaps, of course. But I know your sort. One’s never enough for you, is it?’

The Styrax and the Maaganoid didn’t answer. Roddy tapped his forehead and gave a sly look.

‘So you think you can pull the wool over the old Major’s peepers? Pretend to have an old chum trapped inside, give out an SOS, and then get me to come near you on a “good Samaritan” mission, and what then? It’d be lights-out for the old Major, wouldn’t it? Fiendishly clever.’

He made to leave, pausing at the door. Then he pointed his finger at the Styrax and cocked his thumb. He made a clicking noise in his cheek, taking an imaginary safety catch off.

‘Just to let you know, I’m wise to you chaps. The Major’s watching you hawkishly, just like the proverbial. So just watch it.’

CONVIX 15 / EARTH ORBIT TWO / 2.00pm

EVENT: ‘DAY OF THE STYRAX’ REMEMBERED—JOSEPH McANDREW, TIM WARNE, BRYCE CAMPION, RICK AMORY

LOCATION: Vixos Central Nerve Centre (main stage, ballroom)

EVENT: ‘ ‘WINGS OF THE WARLOCK’ EPISODE SCREENING

LOCATION: The Catacombs of Herath (video lounge—room 1024)

EVENT: ‘HOW TO BLOW UP EVERYDAY OBJECTS-2—WORKSHOP, BERNARD VINER

LOCATION: Hyperion Bridge (room 1010)

EVENT: PHOTOS—RODERICK BURGESS, Katherine Warner

LOCATION: Transpodule Chamber (room 1030)

EVENT: ‘NEW VOIDS—FANVIDS EXPERT PANEL with Graham Goldingay, Fay Lawless, Craig Jones, Darren Cardew

LOCATION: The Seventh Moon of Groolia (room 1002)

So I found a little love nest for us! It was a stroke of genius on my part, if I do say so myself. I suppose I should explain a bit more about the Styrax. I’ve mentioned it a lot, so I better had. ‘What?’ I hear some of you cry. ‘What on earth is a Styrax?’

For those of you who don’t know (those of you who became a fan of my work through my year on the hit soap Memory Lane or my critically acclaimed vodka commercials—and who’ve never even watched Vixens from the Void—lucky you!), the Styrax is this big nasty robot that’s meant to be a kind of evil murderous supercar from the future. Not as far-fetched as it seems—you should see the way I drive!

Anyway, we had lots of dinky little ones, like dodgem cars, and one bloody great big one, really huge, and the reason why it was so massive was because it was built around a real full-sized Mini Metro. Truly. It was evil, with glowing eyes on the outside, beige plastic and velour on the inside.