Lee
"Budgie" Barnett is a writer of comedy and of comic books. He first
broke into the business with three stories in Imperium Comics' TRAILER PARK
OF TERROR, before getting his first big break with Marvel in X-MEN UNLIMITED
#4, which hit the shelves in August 2004. Well known in the UK Comics industry
for the annual Hypotheticals panel
he devised and presents with Dave Gibbons at the UK Comics Festival, he's been
described as being to accountancy what Indiana Jones is to archaeology. He currently
writes GOING CHEEP at the Pulse.
Davies hadn’t known what to expect when he tore open the door to the van, but he wasn’t overly surprised to see a rifle of a tripod and a dark man standing behind it. The man stood up and smiled at Davies.
And then he extended his hand towards him. “Mr Davies? I’m Jez Docherty. Pleased to meet you.”
Davies looked at him like Docherty had grown a second head. “I beg your pardon?” he said.
Docherty may have looked cool calm and collected, but inside he was shitting himself. This has to be played just right, he thought, otherwise I’m a dead man. “That was amazing,” he said, “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast.”
“Yeah, well,” Davies replied, looking at Docherty’s face, maintaining eye contact. “Having someone shoot at you will do that, you know.”
“Yes, sorry about that,” Davies replied. “Bad call on my part.”
“Bad call?” Davies shouted. Then he seemed to suck it in and he looked at the rifle. It reacted as if it had had a 100 ton weight dropped on it and collapsed to the ground flattening itself to a depth of about a millimetre. He looked at Docherty, who wondered if he was about to be subjected to the same fate. Instead Davies just asked him what other weaponry he had in the van.
Davies stayed silent. There was nothing to be gained by telling him and everything to lose.
“Never mind,” Davies said and swept his look around the van. As his eyes moved over each cupboard and holder, the same flattening occurred. And less than a minute later, Davies turned to go.
Docherty moved towards him. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
Davies stopped and looked back at him, his eyes contemptuous. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I do.”
“That’s ok,” Docherty said, “I’ll ask it anyway. Why?”
“Why?” repeated Davies. “Why what?”
“Why did you come to the hospital tonight? Why stop that mugging two days ago, and the bank robbers yesterday?” Docherty stopped, realising with some surprise that he’d stepped over the line that separated an attempt to maintain control of a dangerous and potentially lethal situation from genuine enquiry.
“Well, because people were in danger.”
“That’s not it,” said Docherty. “That can’t be it. That explains why you’re here now. And why you did something. But why come at all?”
Davies thought about it, and felt his anger drifting away. “Because someone has to,” he said.
There was a sharp buzzing noise and Docherty pulled out his phone. “Hello?” he said, grateful that he’d done so smoothly without making a fuss.
He listened for a moment and then handed the phone to Davies. “It’s for you.”
Davies took the phone, curious to find out who was calling him. “Yes?” he said into the receiver
He heard the familiar voice of the Prime Minister and almost dropped the phone.
“Yes, I’m Ian Davies,” he said. Betty Grable was sitting in the Downing Street refectory, drinking her third cup of atrocious coffee when Bowman came to get her. She’d hoped to have left by now, but when she attempted to leave, she’d been politely but firmly told that her presence might be required later and until that time, she was ‘invited’ to remain in the building.
Unlike most people, she didn’t mind waiting. She’d once spent seventy-two hours with her team watching a petri dish to see when a reaction would occur. What was bothering her was two-fold. She’d realised after the brief telephone conversation exactly what Docherty’s role in his job was and this troubled her greatly. Although she supposed she was vaguely patriotic, she drew the line at killing, even if it was for the purposes of national security. The second thing that concerned her was Davies himself. She had no idea whether or not he could beat the creature, but from what she’d seen and from her own knowledge in the field, if he didn’t triumph, then there was very little she could think of that could restrain that thing she’d seen.
Her mouth opened of its own accord and a yawn exited from it. Damn, she was tired, she thought. And she leaned forward to the table, resting her head on her crossed arms.
After what seemed a few seconds, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Doctor Grable?” asked Bowman. He repeated the question as she raised her head, shaking it gently and rubbing her eyes. “I’m sorry to wake you, but if you could come with me again.”
She stood up slowly, and caught sight of the clock. She’d been asleep for three hours. She ran her fingers through her hair and looked down at herself, still dressed in the outfit she’d chosen to go out on a date with Docherty.
Docherty!
“Sir Anthony?” she ventured, as they left the restaurant and started down a flight of steps.
“Yes?” he replied, leading her back towards COBRA.
“Do you know what happened to Jez Docherty?”
“He’s right behind you,” said a voice she recognised and she turned to see Docherty standing there, accompanied by a man that looked familiar to her. She surprised both herself and Docherty then as with a rush of emotion, she hugged Docherty tightly. To Docherty’s greater surprise, he hugged back.
Bowman smiled to himself. What’s the harm? he thought, giving them a few seconds and looking away. But then, after those few seconds, he coughed diplomatically. By then, Docherty and Grable were looking at each other, their eyes locked.
It was Docherty who broke away from the hug, and he just looked at her and said “Later, ok?” She nodded, wondering where the tears in her eyes had come from. She wiped them and as she did so, the other shoe dropped.
She spun and looked at Davies, staring openly at him.
The look she gave him made Davies feel astonishingly uncomfortable, as if he was on a slide under a microscope.
“Shall we?” asked Bowman and they entered the large COBRA room. When they entered the room, everyone automatically stood.
There had been no formal reason for doing so. Unlike the American system, the British are more restrained. If the Prime Minister stands, it’s not assumed that everyone else has to. They save that for royalty.
But in this case?
As Davies stepped over the threshold into the room, he saw that everyone stopped doing whatever duties they had been previously performing. And they all stood. Davies uttered a brief prayer that they weren’t about to start applauding. He really didn’t think he could handle that.
Surprisingly, given the build up, the meeting shouldn’t really have lasted that long.
After all, how long does it take to be invited to be the United Kingdom’s secret weapon, and (with a nod to the American gests) and even “on occasion, help “out our cousins across the pond?” The answer is “Slightly longer than it takes for the reply of ‘get stuffed’.”
The Prime Minister sat down in his chair, not in the least surprised at the response. “Mr Davies,” he said, “Let me ask a question.”
“Why?” asked Davies pre-empting the question.
“Why what?” enquired the Prime Minister, thoroughly confused. “Why am I asking? Because I want to know what you’ll say.”
“Oh,” said Davies colouring lightly. “Please go on.”
“Let me put it plainly,” the PM said, glancing at his opposite number, The Leader of the Opposition, and warning him with his eyes not to say one damn word. “You believe that these abilities you have carry with them obligations, yes?”
“To a certain extent, yes,” said Davies.
“Obligations to do what precisely?” the Prime Minister asked, politely.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” said Davies, “I’m still trying to work that one out.”
“To rescue cats?” the PM enquired.
Davies smiled. “No, not really.”
“To overthrow the government then?”
“Of course not,” Davies shot back.
“Somewhere in-between?” asked the PM, smiling gently.
Davies smiled back. “Yes, pretty much, I guess. Somewhere in-between.”
“Good,” said the Prime Minister, rubbing his hands. “Mr Docherty?” he said.
“Yes, sir?” replied Docherty.
“Please give Mr Davies here every assistance he needs tonight. I’d like to see you both in Ten Downing Street tomorrow afternoon at two o’clock please. You as well, Doctor Grable. Don’t be late.” And the Prime Minister turned on his heels and walked out of the room.
Davies looked at Docherty in confusion. “What just happened here?” he asked.
Docherty had a slight inkling what was to happen tomorrow, but caught the eye of his boss who shook his head very slightly.
“Let’s talk about that tomorrow, Davies. In the meantime, let’s get you home, ok?”
They left the room, together with Grable. As they left, Grable could hear the silence that had permeated the room start to dissipate, with the most common words said including “Bloody” and “Hell”.
Davies stopped for a moment and looked at Docherty. “Have I just been drafted?”
Docherty smiled and wondered what he could say to Davies. He settled for “You have no idea…” The offices of Monkton and Doncaster officially opened the doors to the public at nine o’clock in the morning, and although many of the consultants didn’t turn up until almost eleven, some of the staff were in by eight.
Monkton and Williams had been in the office since just after four o’clock, Williams commenting that while he’d occasionally left the office at that time, he couldn’t recall actually arriving there before dawn. At five they’d been joined by Patt who’d been up since three, having been awoken by Williams with a brief “Get in to the office as soon as you can. We’ve got work to do.”
The three had worked together for two hours and by seven they had what they considered, and called, a working strategy. After the events they’d watched on television only a few hours earlier, they knew that they were unlikely to be contacted by Davies until later that day, if at all, but they didn’t want to be caught by surprise. When they’d finally sat back, knowing they had somewhat more than a germ of an idea, Williams had then taken the opportunity to leave the office and drive to his apartment for a shower, a shave and a fresh set of clothes, promising to be back in the office in a couple of hours.
It was turning out to be his week for surprises as his usually unfailing sense of reality around him let him down. He would have bet the company’s next annual turnover that wherever Davies was at the moment, the apartment would be empty.
Which explained the look of pure stupefaction on his face when he opened the door to his apartment using his spare key that he kept in his office drawer (Davies having been given his usual set) to find a gun pointed at his head. When they’d left the briefing room, with Docherty’s enigmatic comment floating in the air, Grable was formally introduced to Davies. The latter had been only slightly interested in the former until Docherty had casually mentioned that it was she who had sent the package by car in the first place.
When he heard that, Davies was consumed by a fierce desire to fly Grable up into the air as he had done with Jordan, and as he had done with The Guardian journalist, to drop her. Only this time, he wouldn’t have caught her.
Docherty could see the effort it took for Davies to control himself. He said to Davies, “the reason I’m telling you this is twofold: first off, old son, you’re going to find out sooner or later, and it’s better sooner than later, because this lady has some interesting things to tell you about how your powers work.”
Davies shot her a look of pure shock. Grable nodded slowly.
“Secondly,” Docherty continued, “if what I think is going to happen tomorrow is going to happen, I need you to know that no one from HMG is trying to pull a fast one on you. Whatever you hear from us will be the truth. And Betty, you’re going to hear some things tomorrow that will surprise you.”
Grable’s face looked incredulous. “After what I’ve been through in the past two days, you think I can still be surprised?”
Davies laughed. “What you’ve been through? Doctor Grable, you don’t have any idea what it’s like to be surprised.” He took off his watch and watched it float around the car for a moment before putting it back on his wrist.
Grable grinned at him. “OK, point taken.”
They had been walking for several minutes and went through a door that led to an underground car park. Docherty walked over to a bay in which a blue car was parked and opened the driver’s side front door. The keys were already in place and he turned to the others. “OK, get in. Davies, where are you staying tonight?”
Davies gave the address of William’s flat and he was surprised when Docherty said “Lester Williams’ place? OK.” He’d memorised the addresses of all of Davies’ contacts, and then just to be safe, the addresses of anyone with whom Davies got on well with at the agency. “I’m staying with you tonight, and sorry, Betty, but so are you.”
Docherty was a good, if fast driver, and as Grable had discovered, an interesting person with whom to have a conversation. By the time they were half way to the apartment block, they’d moved on to first name terms.
They were about five minutes from the flat when Docherty, driving substantially in excess of the posted speed limit, shot past a police vehicle and it was with a sense of disbelief that Docherty saw blue flashing lights in the rear view mirror. For Davies, though, it was just one more ludicrous thing that had happened today. He suggested that they tell the police officer the truth, but one look from Docherty shut him up. He could sort of see the point. If they told the policeman that they’d just come from Downing Street and that among the occupants of the car was an intelligence agent, an expert in mutagenic materials and the first super-powered being outside comic books and movies, they’d all probably spend a night in jail, on suspicion of being drunk as skunks.
Docherty pulled the car over and stepped out of the vehicle. The police car pulled in behind them and Docherty went to meet the policeman who got out of the other car. As Grable and Davies watched Docherty and the police officer talking, Docherty showing the officer his ID, inside the blue car Grable looked at Davies, an impish look in her eyes. “Go on, then,” she said.
“What do you mean?” asked Davies.
“You’re dying to do something, aren’t you?” she said, trying to keep a smile off of her face.
Davies grinned back at her and said nothing.
A moment later Docherty returned to the car and said to them, “It’s sorted. Let’s go.”
They drove off, Docherty expecting the police car to follow them in pulling away from the kerbside. It was with mild surprise that he noticed that the other vehicle remained stationary. But he thought no more of it as he drove out of view.
Behind him, the two policemen were wondering how the hell they were going to explain to the traffic department exactly how all four tires had suddenly gone flat. Once inside the apartment, Davies said that he was going to bed and promptly did so, leaving Docherty and Grable alone in the main room. Grable looked at the couch and offered to sleep there, a yawn escaping from her mouth.
“Don’t be daft,” Docherty said. “I’ve got to stay in here because this is the only entrance and exit from the apartment, and there’s a spare bed in the second bedroom.”
“I could stay here… with you,” Grable said hesitantly.
“There’s nothing I’d rather,” said Docherty, “but not tonight, eh? Sorry, but…”
Grable smiled at him and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You’re on duty.”
“Yeah,” he replied, a crooked half smile on his face.
She smiled at him and looked at the door leading to the second bedroom. “Well, if you change your mind…” and she went to bed.
Docherty looked upwards and cursed softly, though with great skill. He looked around the room and his eyes lit up as he saw a small carved chess set and he placed it on the small coffee table. OK, he thought, been a while since I’ve played. Several hours later, Docherty was on his sixth cup of coffee and his third attempt to actually win a game as opposed to the stalemates he’d managed so far when he heard steps outside the front door. He grabbed his gun and stood flattened against the wall to the side of the door, with his gun outstretched.
As the key was inserted into the lock, he saw Davies coming out of his room, a questioning look on his face. “What’s up?” Davies asked in a normal tone of voice. “I heard something…” Docherty shouldn’t’ have been surprised, but he was.
“Shh…” Docherty whispered and motioned to Davies to get out of view, but a second later the door opened.
Williams walked into the room and stopped in mild surprise as he saw Davies in a bathrobe, and then in shock as he felt a gun against his face. To give him due credit, all he said was “The company you’re keeping these days, Ian, eh?”
This Week's Artist: Jim Wheelock Jim Wheelock works the mean slopes of the Hollywood Hills as an artist, writer and designer. His TV work includes THE GALAXY RANGERS and G.I. JOE: EXTREME, and his comics have appeared in such venues as TABOO, MASKS OF SONAMBULO and WEIRD SMUT. He's currently digital lettering WATERLOO SUNSET, published by Image Comics.
