SIX

RUDOLF DONATI

 

 

RUDOLF WAS A man in pieces.

His head lay on the pillow of the great frayed four poster bed at the centre of the room. His legs stood by the side of the bed, ready to go, his heart beat on a white plate on the bedside table; a plate with the same willow pattern as the ones our curry had just been served on downstairs. His body hung in the wardrobe, clearly seen through the open door. His arms were folded in the centre of the bed.

All the parts of his body were connected by long, pulsing, purple cords.

“Hello,” said Rudolf, brown eyes turned towards the doorway.

“Rudolf Donati,” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“You know him?” said Mr Monagan, in an awestruck voice. “Mister James! I think you know everyone.”

“Not quite everyone,” I said. “So, Rudolf. I’m guessing that the gambling got out of control again?”

Rudolf raised his eyebrows. I suppose that, just being a head, he had had to learn new ways to express himself.

“Not out of control, just an unlucky streak.” He waggled his eyebrows in the direction of Amit. “I got into debt with these gentlemen.”

“He tried to run away,” said Amit. “Now we have him by the balls.”

“He keeps them locked up in the cabinet over there,” said Rudolf. I followed the two purple threads that led from the body in the wardrobe to the cabinet in the corner and winced.

“Mr Donati worked in Angel Tower as an actuary,” said Amit. “He still has a lot of influence over the place.”

“An actuary!” I said. “How could you work there? Didn’t the numbers drive you mad?”

“Not if you understand what’s really happening up there,” said Rudolf. “Dream London isn’t a fantasy, Jim, it’s science fiction.”

“That’s enough of that,” said Amit. “They want to get Captain Wedderburn here up to the Writing Floor. You’re going to help them.”

“Sure I will,” said Rudolf. “Right after I’ve finished scratching my nose.”

“He thinks he’s funny,” said Amit.

“Humour is the only weapon I have in this position.”

“It’s a blunt weapon. Listen, Rudolf. I’m going to let you out for the day. Would you like that?”

“Aren’t you afraid he might just run away?” I said.

“Thanks, Jim!” said Rudolf. “Whose side are you on?”

“Don’t worry,” said Amit. “We’ll keep his liver and kidneys. He’ll have to come back here to be reattached to them. If he wants to go on living, that is.”

I frowned. “How did you learn to do all this?” I asked. “How did you learn to take a man apart?”

“From careful application to the writings in the public libraries and reading rooms,” said Amit. “From the scriptoriums and the bibliotechs that are opening all around the city. It’s amazing what you can find if you look hard enough amongst all the junk.”

“What junk?” said Mr Monagan.

“What junk? Have you read anything in this city, my orange friend?”

“I only arrived here yesterday.”

“Ah, then you won’t have had a chance to read all that second-rate poetry that people keep writing. Every word ever written in this city is copied down and distributed amongst the libraries and bookshops. Every note played on every instrument is written on manuscript and mixed in amongst the other sheet music. What better way to dilute the culture of our former world than by mixing it with the mediocrity of the masses?”

“No,” said Rudolf, in the weary voice of someone who had tried to explain this many times before. “You don’t understand, Amit. That’s not how it works. There’s no need for that, not when the 839^th floor is rewriting everything all the time. He’ll see that tomorrow if you let me take him there.” He nodded at me.

“But why?” I asked. “Why are they doing it?”

“I told you, this is science fiction,” said Rudolf. “Dream London is a place where the normal rules of the universe no longer apply. Angel Tower is the place where the rules are rewritten.” You could hear the frustration in his voice. “I’ve told Amit this many times.”

“And I think you’re wrong, Rudolf,” said Amit, in bored tones.

“I’m not. Your governments are all looking at this in the wrong way. You’re treating this as a fantasy. You see these towers rising up and you want to seize your swords and cut your way to the top, kill the dragon and free the princess!” His eyes were fixed on me now. “That’s the American way, isn’t it? Well, I’m telling you now: forget the towers, look at the parks!”

“What’s in the parks?” I asked, remembering the paths and roads I had seen from Bill’s satellite pictures. I thought of the glorious gold and white fairytale castle that Buckingham Palace had become...

“I don’t know what’s in the parks,” said Rudolf, rather weakly. “But that’s where you should be looking.”

Amit had had enough.

“Enough talking, Mr Donati. Now, I’m going to ask Mr Monagan and Captain Wedderburn to leave whilst I begin the process of putting you back together. Captain Wedderburn, where would you like to meet Mr Donati tomorrow?”

“How about at Angel Street station, seven thirty?”

“I’ll be there,” said Mr Donati. “Oh, and don’t wear that suit. Wear your your normal clothes. Your Captain Wedderburn clothes.”

“Why?”

“Because it will make things easier.”

“But then they’ll know who I am!”

“Of course they will,” said Rudolf, his frustration obvious. “Lying here all the time gives you time to think. You should all try it sometime, instead of simply rushing off to get yourself killed.”

“People have gone to some trouble to provide me with a cover story,” I said. “All so I could get into Angel Tower. You want me just to abandon that?”

If Rudolf had had a body he’d have thrown his head back whilst he laughed at me. “You don’t get it, Jim, do you? You think that they want you because of your leadership abilities? You’re a fool. You’re nothing more than a good looking thug, and they know it. People only follow you because of your looks. That’s the way things work in Dream London.”

“Lying in a bed has made you bitter, Rudolf,” I said.

“Lying in a bed has given me clarity,” said Rudolf.

“Enough chat,” said Amit. “Off you go. I need to resurrect him. Oh, and make sure you get him back here by five at the latest tomorrow. He will be feeling quite sick by then, and it will take time to reattach him to his vital organs.”

“Very well.”

“I have a question,” said Mr Monagan, holding up his hand. “Before we go. Do you mind, Mister James?”

“I don’t mind,” I said. Amit raised his eyes to the ceiling.

“Tell me, Mr Donati,” said Mr Monagan. “What did you do to upset Mister Amit so much?”

“I’ll answer that,” said Amit. “Mr Donati is a man who can make numbers dance. Only when Dream London came, the numbers stopped dancing for him, and then we saw the truth.”

“And then I tried to run,” said Rudolf.

“And we caught him and brought him here, and he ran away again. That wasn’t very wise, was it, Mr Donati?”

“Not when every train that you ride out brings you back in again,” said Rudolf. “Dream London is impossible to escape from. Things can come in, but nothing can get out.”

“Nothing?”

“Well, perhaps it would be better put that nothing can escape from Dream London.”

The head on the bed had a way of tilting itself back and forth. Now it tilted to me, and Rudolf Donati was looking at me with big liquid brown eyes and smiling.

“Nothing can escape, James. What does that remind you of?”

“What?” I said.

Rudolf wasn’t listening.

“What puzzles me is how time is passing out in the old world. Does everything seem to be moving a little slower in Dream London? Perhaps you could ask the Americans about that.”

 

 

AMIT LED US from the room and back down the spiral staircase. I was sure it had grown a few steps since we had come in. In the restaurant two boys were looking at something in shiny black cases that had been set out on the restaurant tables. When they saw us, the black salwar kameez-clad waiters hurriedly snapped the cases shut, but not quickly enough. I’d had a good look at the polished brass instruments inside. Trumpets or cornets, I can’t tell the difference.

The two boys folded their hands together and smiled at us sweetly as we walked by.

“What are they doing here?” I asked. “What are you planning?”

Amit just smiled.

“Alright, don’t tell me. You look ridiculous in that turban, you know.”

“I’m just grateful to remain above ground, James. Haven’t you noticed there are less of us ethnic types around?”

I was about to ask him what he meant, but Amit held open the door for us.

“I hope that you will return soon to experience the cuisine of the East.”

“Oh, thank you!” said Mr Monagan. “Truly, that was the most delightful meal I have ever experienced!”

Amit shook his head in disbelief.

I frowned and followed Mr Monagan into the alley.

 

 

WE WALKED IN silence, back towards the main streets. Mr Monagan hesitated.  He looked to our right.

“I can feel something,” he said. “Something over there...”

I realised where we were.

“That’d be the Spiral,” I said. I took his arm. “Come on, it’s late. We don’t want to get pulled towards that. Not now.”

We walked on. High above, in the narrow slit between the two buildings, the stars were out in an inky blue sky.

“What now?” asked Mr Monagan.

“We go home to bed,” I said. “You have a busy day tomorrow, looking after Belltower End. And so do I.”

“I think I will need a little something to eat first, Mr James.”

“Something to eat? You just had a curry!”

“I know, and very nice it was too. But I shall need a little something extra before I go to bed.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. He must have had a high metabolism, given how strong he was.

“There’s an all night café on the way back,” I said.

“No need, Mr James. I can see a trail of ants over there. I’ll follow them to their nest. That’ll keep me going.”

“You eat ants?” I said. “Of course you do.”

“I prefer water termites,” said Mr Monagan, seriously. “The nests used to grow at the edge of the swamp. My mother taught me where to dig into them so we could take some of the termites without disturbing the others.”

“What’s so good about water termites?”

“They harvest from both the water and the land. Their meat is a mixture of surf and turf. Utterly delicious!”

The orange man seemed to glow at the declaration. Then he shook his head, sadly. “It’s a shame, but they’re no more.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Republican ants. Ants which use the power of the river to break free from their caste. They overthrew their hive’s queen and caused things to be run to their benefit. They grew stronger and cleverer. They wiped out all the poor water termites.”

The power of the river. That was an interesting phrase. Was that how Mr Monagan chose to explain the changes?

 

 

THERE HAD BEEN a storm at the Poison Yews in my absence. I returned to find the Sinfield family blown to the extremities of the house.

Anna met me in the hallway, a red circle imprinted on her lips.

“So you came back a second time,” she said.

“Where’s your father?”

“In the drawing room with Shaqeel. Mother’s in the kitchen.” Her face remained impassive. “There’s been a huge row. I’d stay in your room if I were you.”

“I need to see Alan.”

I made my way to the drawing room. Alan and Shaqeel sat side by side on a large chaise longue, not touching. Shaqeel wore a deep, self-satisfied grin.

“James,” said Alan. “You missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry. Not after lunch.”

Alan glanced at Shaqeel, and then he lowered his head.

“Listen, James. I want to apologise for the way I acted at work today. I did go off the rails a bit. I’m sorry if I wasn’t as helpful as I might have been. It’s just, well, Angel Tower. You felt it, didn’t you? Things are so... different... in there. So much more... intense.”

“I understand,” I said. I did, too. “Listen, Alan, you need to get a message to Bill.”

Shaqeel placed a jet black hand over Alan’s. He shook his head.

“It’ll wait until morning,” said Alan.

I looked at Shaqeel, and I wondered at Alan’s choice of partner. Was he part of the Cartel? Or was he something else?

“No,” I said. “It won’t wait. The message has to go now. Tell Bill I’ve arranged to get onto the Writing Floor tomorrow.”

Alan raised his eyebrows.

“I’m impressed! How did you manage that?”

“Never mind. Get across there and let her know.” I thought about her threat to have the towers nuked. Anything that would calm the Pentagon Hawks should be communicated as soon as possible.

“I’m tired,” said Alan. “I just got comfortable.”

I was tired too. I stepped forward and pressed a finger on his chest.

“I don’t care. Do it now.”

Silently, Shaqeel rose to his feet. He was a big man, bigger than me. He looked down at me with a broadening smile.

“Do you really want to fight me, Shaqeel?” I asked.

“Leave him, Shaqeel,” said Alan, slowly climbing to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get some night air. Perhaps we can call around at the club?”

I watched the pair of them leave the room, and then made to head upstairs.

“Jim! Captain Jim! Come in here!” Margaret’s drunken voice called out to me from the kitchen.

I pretended I hadn’t heard. As I entered my room I heard the silver sound of a trumpet coming from somewhere. I remembered the music from last night.

There was a spider sitting on my bed, about as big as my hand. At my approach, it lifted itself into the air on eight legs and sauntered away, just a little faster than I could move to catch it. It slipped its way into a crack in a wall and was gone.

I undressed and sat down on the bed and picked up one of the books that Anna had left me to read.

Lolita. I read the blurb. The story of a young girl’s awakening passion for an older man. An instructive tale to be read by all teenagers...

That wasn’t right, I thought. At least, that hadn’t been right in the past.