“The Andromeda Geräte an omnipotent alien artefact is. Buried for millennia beneath the Neuschwabenland ice it was, until discovered by Kapitän Alfred Ritscher almost eighty years ago. Over this machine the Dark Lords have power and Armageddon it brings.”
“But not in time to save you little man.” The brutal black shape of a Beretta Pico pocket pistol was in Mr Fluffy’s hand, the red dot of its laser sight quivering on Master Dorje’s forehead. Startled, his Tibetan companions ducked, but Dorje refused to flinch. Lady Augusta moved swiftly between Fluffy and the ancient sage.
“Really Mrs King? This baby holds six rounds. I can waste you all.”
There was a metallic swish and in an instant the edge of a Yoshindo Yoshihara katana blade, cold and hard as a stockbroker’s heart, sharp as an Italian suit, was at Mr Fluffy’s throat.
“Drop the peashooter General.” The tiny automatic clattered to the boards.
“Flo?” asked a relieved Augusta.
A shadowy ninja stepped into the light, still keeping her blade under Mr Fluffy’s chin. “Just keeping an eye out. That was quite a performance Master Dorje. How long do you reckon before Les Chats realise they’ve been duped?”
“Oh, keeping their heads down for a while they will be, so long as Mr Fluffy here does not attempt to stir them up again. The real Merovingian Lizard Kings re-establishing normal relations within the Atlantian tunnels soon will be.”
“Don’t worry about Mr Fluffy. He’s going to be on the next airship flight back to Canada.” Dark Flo sheathed her katana. Augusta had retrieved the Beretta and was keeping a cautious eye on the self-styled general.
“But… I… This is not over yet.”
“Yes it is, Mr Cat.”
Boz, Ferdy and Phoebles were standing around on Greenwich Pier.
“It’s all gone very quiet,” observed Ferdy.
“Can’t just sit around here,” said Boz. “Let’s find out what’s going on.”
The sentry boxes were deserted when they reached the gates of the Naval College. They peeked gingerly beyond the entrance just in time to see Dark Flo, Augusta and the Tibetans crossing the courtyard. Mr Fluffy was in front, manacled with the pink, fur lined handcuffs that Flo always kept about her person should the occasion call for their use.
“Ferdinand,” she called out, “can you call up Silvertown Airways? Mr Fluffy wants to go home.”
The two parties had barely had time to exchange pleasantries when a third group rushed towards them across the square.
“We’ve been having so much fun,” shouted Zelda. “Professor Flosso was amazing.”
Professor Flosso was, in fact, still sobbing. Near to collapse he was being supported between Beryl and Ginsbergbear.
“Did it go all right then?” asked Beryl.
“Champion,” replied Lady Augusta. “It would appear that, for the moment at least, catastrophe has been averted. Les Chats are fled and Mr Fluffy is in chains.”
“But what about king Charles?” asked Phoebles. “What’s happened to him?”
“His Imperial Majesty turned out to be a bit of a disappointment,” Mr Fluffy cut in on the conversation, “He was last observed hiding in the ladies’ toilets, disguised as a common sailor.
“Let’s go get him then,” said Boz.
“No need. He has already escaped.” No one had noticed Slasher McGoogs joining the group. “He is, at this very moment, making his way in a small rowing skiff towards Tilbury docks.”
“Slasher, long time no see,” said Boz. “We could still catch him.”
“He had help, my help,” continued Slasher. “Agents on the docks will assist him in stowing away aboard a certain merchant vessel there, the SS Kandelfels. Once safely out to sea he will discover that the Kandelfels is really the commercial raider Pinguin. A spell in the Kriegsmarine under Kapitänleutnant Felix Graf von Luckner will put hairs on his chest, and if all else fails he can be marooned on a cosy little atoll somewhere mid Pacific.”
“That’s OK then,” said Ginsbergbear.