The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag (29 page)

‘Of
course. But such funding ended years ago. Necrosoft is independent. It supplies
urban pacification systems on a worldwide basis. The revenues from that are
vast. The revenues from downloading fees are equally vast. The revenues from
software to link Internet users to the Necronet are equally vast. Have you any
idea what this company is worth?’

‘Some,’
said Billy.

‘Henry
Doors is the richest man in the world.’

‘I
wonder where he lives,’ said Billy.

‘Don’t
we both? So far we have been unable to locate him. Tracing his financial
interests leads us around in circles. The forced nationalization of his company
may just draw him out.’

‘And
that’s the point, is it? To draw him out?’ We must negotiate with him face to
face. Necrosoft’s technology must not fall into foreign hands. The hand that
controls Necrosoft will one day control the world.’

‘Indeed,’
said Billy. ‘I somehow thought it might.’

‘The
government and Necrosoft must become one,’ said the PM. ‘And then you will see
Britain rise as a world power once again. Oh yes.’

Billy
nodded thoughtfully. You’re so right,’ he said. ‘It makes perfect sense. I
wonder how I didn’t think of it before.’

The PM
smiled his winning smile. ‘Then we’re agreed,’ he said.

We are,’
said Billy, smiling too. ‘And I’ve a little gift for you.’

Weep No More for Uncle Albert

Weep no more for Uncle Albert,

Somewhere in the Necronet.

Out here all his fond relations

Divvy up what they can get.

To young Tim I leave my motor,

Toby gets my scarf,

Tom Boy, you can have my muffler,

And my book of
Garth.

Not a chair left there to sit on,

Not a sofa you can get on,

Picture patches on the wall,

Rolled-up lino in the hall,

Hinges taken from the butt,

Turfs are raised and flowers cut.

And Auntie looks a little queer,

She comes up sixty-five this year.

But weep no more for Uncle Albert,

He’s above it now.

20

Science without conscience is the death of the soul.

FRANÇOIS
RABELAIS
(c.
1494—1553)

The doctor said I was a
paranoid schizophrenic. Well, he didn’t actually say it, but we knew he was thinking
it.

‘Tell
me more about your work,’ the doctor said. ‘My work? You mean my detective
work?’

‘That’s
what you do then, is it? Detective work?’

The
doctor viewed me through his pince-nez. I’d had a pair of those once. But mine
had tinted glass. An image thing, I don’t want to dwell on it.

‘I did
do detective work,’ I said carefully. ‘But I wasn’t very good at it. I never
managed to find anything I was supposed to be searching for.’

‘Such
as the’ — the doctor consulted his case notes — ‘handbag? The voodoo handbag?
What exactly is that?’

‘It all
got terribly complicated. I sort of lost track of what I was doing.’

You
were confused.’ Very.’

‘But
you’re not so confused now.’

‘Not so
much. No.’

‘The
tablets are helping then, are they?’

‘Tablets
always help. That’s what tablets are for, isn’t it?’

The
doctor rose from his chair and drifted over to the window. I noticed the way
his toecaps lightly brushed the top of the wastepaper bin.

 ‘Am I
boring you?’ the doctor asked. ‘You keep nodding off. Are you tired?’

‘Me?
No, no. I never sleep.’

‘Never?
Not at all?’

‘I don’t
dare to fall asleep. If I fall asleep I might dream, and if I dream I’ll be
back in there. Back in the Necronet. I’m not going back in there. Not me. Not
ever.’

‘Quite,’
said the doctor. ‘So you never sleep at all.’

‘Maybe
a minute or two. But no dreams. If dreams come, Barry wakes me up.’

Your
Holy Guardian, Barry?’

‘He’s a
sprout. From God’s garden. God has a very big garden. Very big. It goes on and
on for ever. I’ve been there, it’s very beautiful.’

‘Inside
the mind of God?’

‘That’s
where we all go when we dream. I think that’s also where we all go when we die.
Because you can meet dead people in your dreams, can’t you? And they’re not
dead when you meet them.’

‘And
you met dead people?’

‘Only
the one.’

‘Do you
want to talk about that?’

‘No, I
don’t.’

‘Careful
on that chair,’ said the doctor. You might fall over the mountain.’

I edged
my chair away from the precipice. Four legs safely on the ground and two feet
flat. You shouldn’t drift about,’ I told the doctor. You could get blown away.
They’d never find you, you’d blow out into the desert.’

‘I have
special tablets,’ said the doctor. ‘They keep my feet heavy. They’re gravitational.’

‘Wake
up, chief!’

‘Thanks,
Barry.’

‘Did
you drift off again?’

‘Only
for a moment.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Barry woke me.’

‘So you’re
still here?’

Yes.
Those glasses are new.’

‘I
think they make me look a bit like Clark Kent,’ said the doctor, removing his
black-framed spectacles. ‘But didn’t you once have a pair like these? An image
thing, wasn’t it?’

‘I can’t
remember clearly any more. I know too many things.’

‘But
couldn’t you remember everything?’ The doctor returned to his desk and went
through a bit more case note consultation. ‘Digital memory. Total recall.
Positively photographic.’

‘It’s
how magic works.’

‘Magic?
Where does magic come into this?’

‘It’s
most of this.’

Voodoo
magic?’

‘Some
of it, yes.’

‘Superstition,’
said the doctor. ‘Science is the new magic. Would you mind if I kissed you on
the mouth?’

‘Wake
up, chief!’

‘Thanks,
Barry.’

‘Enforced
wakefulness leading to psychosis,’ the doctor said as he wrote further case
notes. ‘Recommend that the patient be placed on a course of—’

‘No,’ I
shouted. ‘No sleeping tablets, I mustn’t dream, don’t you understand? I mustn’t
dream.’

The
doctor reached forward and pressed that little button on his desk.

‘No
dreams! No!’ I pushed back on my chair. ‘I’ll go over the edge. I will.’

You’ll
be fine,’ the doctor smiled. No teeth. The doctor had no teeth. The back legs
of my chair squeaked on the lino as I pushed towards the cliff edge.

‘Don’t
try to stop me. I’m going to jump. ‘You’ll wake up if you jump.’

‘I’m
not asleep. I’m awake now. ‘
‘Wake up—
And I jumped. And I fell.

And I
woke up in some confusion. ‘Barry, you bastard. You let me jump that time.’ The
wind shuffled sand around my wellington boots.

I
looked up at the Mountains of Madness.

‘Barry.
Barry?
Barry?’

But I
was all on my own again.

Before
the Cave of Ultimate Horrors.

And
frankly I was well pissed off.

‘I’m well pissed off,’
said Billy Barnes. You mean that you found no trace at all?’

The
beautiful secretary turned down her haunted eyes. ‘At first all the shopkeepers
I talked to thought they remembered Henry Doors and had read his book. But the
more they thought about it, the less they seemed to remember. And eventually
they all said that they probably didn’t remember him at all.’

‘And
the library?’

‘The
library, and the posh companies that trace rare books. I’ve asked all of them.
Are you absolutely certain there is a Henry Doors, sir?’

Billy
swung around in his expensive chair. ‘Absolutely certain. Carry on searching.
Don’t eat. Don’t sleep. Search the company records, trace the name through
Somerset House. Use every means at your disposal. Find Henry Doors.’

Tears
welled in the haunted eyes. Yes, sir,’ said the secretary. Whatever you say.’

When
the door had closed upon her, Billy swept expensive objects from his desk, rose
and kicked his chair over.

Henry
Doors was the man. Target number one. The big trophy. If he could insinuate
himself into the service of Henry Doors, it would not take too long for Billy
to become Henry Doors. And then the wealth. The power. It could all be his.

A
telephone began to ring.

Billy
snatched it up. ‘What is it?’ he shouted.

‘There’s
a Mr Henry Doors on the line,’ said the voice of Billy’s secretary.

My hands were trembling
and my knees knocking, too. And it wasn’t because of the prospect of a stroll
in the Cave of Ultimate Horrors. It was all that stuff. That stuff in the
doctor’s office. Am I awake?

Am I
asleep? Was that madness, or was that something else? Am I dreaming this? Are
you dreaming me? Am I dreaming you? Who’s actually awake and who isn’t?

I made
fists. I’m sure I had to be learning something. I just wished I knew what it
was supposed to be.

I took
deep breaths. Right. Cave of Ultimate Horrors. If the Mountains of Madness had
played on my paranoia, were still playing on it, actually, then
was
I
asleep? What would the cave play on? What were my ultimate horrors?

I
dreaded to think.

‘I hope you don’t think
this too forward of me,’ said the voice of Henry Doors. ‘And I know you’re a
very busy man, but I was wondering if we might get together for a bit of a
chat.’

‘A bit
of a chat,’ said Billy. ‘If that’s all right with you.’

‘Certainly,
when—’

‘My car
is waiting in the car park. Perhaps you might cancel all further appointments
for the day.’

‘Indeed,’
said Billy. ‘I will.’

The car
was all Billy might have expected. A white stretch-Merc with blacked-out
windows. As Billy approached, a rear door swung open. Electric door, nice
touch.

Billy
peered into the car. A young man in a white designer suit and Ray Bans beckoned
him inside. Billy climbed in and the door closed upon him.

The
young man comfied himself upon the tan leather seating. ‘Henry Doors,’ he said.
‘Excuse me if I don’t shake your hand.’

‘Excuse
me if I don’t shake yours,’ said Billy.

Henry
Doors grinned wolfishly. He had the look of a male model, or one of those brat
pack film lads who used to be so popular. Killer cheekbones, floppy hair, beach
tan.

You
expected someone older,’ said Henry. Yes I did.’

‘Then
let me tell you a little bit about myself. I was born in San Francisco in
nineteen sixty-seven, the Summer of Love. My mother was a Carmelite nun, my
father — well, who can say, women are habitual liars. I was brought up on a
farm in Wisconsin, under the supervision of agents of the American government
They protected me from harm. I have a way with computers, an empathy you might
say, and I was writing my own programmes by the time I was nine. By the age of
fifteen I had founded Necrosoft and was already a multimillionaire. Any
questions?’

‘Many,’
said Billy.

Well,
keep them to yourself. I have been watching your progress, Billy, right from
the start. Your every move has been closely observed. Your rise through the
company ranks. Your conversation last week with the PM.’

You
overheard my conversation?’

Watched
you on screen. The entire Necrosoft building is under camera surveillance. It’s
built into the very walls. Very subtle stuff. I hear all and I see all.’

‘Where
does this leave me?’ Billy asked.

‘With
your trousers round your ankles and your bare arse in the air.’

‘Indeed,’
said Billy.

‘The
question is, do I pat your bottom kindly, or ram my—’

‘I get
the picture.’

You are
the picture, Billy. Because you are in the frame. Tell me this, and answer
honestly because I will know if you lie. If you could gain control, how much
control would you want?’