“He was to discover that he was listening to the voices of the dead.

“But his equipment was crude by today’s standards and he could not tune it precisely. Tesla kept quiet about what he had discovered, for fear of ridicule. Before his death he was working upon the wireless transmission of electricity. It is said that he perfected it. His papers on that, however, are lost.

“His papers on his radio transmission received from the dead, however, were found shortly before the Second World War, languishing in the restricted section of the Miskatonic Institute in Arkham, New England, America. Happily, by an Englishman doing research over there. He brought them back to England. War broke out and the government enlisted every scientist in the country to help with the war effort. Our chap, the researcher, showed Tesla’s papers to Churchill, who gave him the go-ahead.

“Mornington Crescent tube station was closed down. It had extensive storage areas beneath it and they were commissioned for the war effort. For Operation Orpheus, which was a project to communicate with the dead via radio. To interrogate high-ranking German officers who had died in action. To this end a gentleman named Charlie Farnsbarns, a music-hall entertainer, who specialized in impersonating Hitler, was called in. Mr Farnsbarns impersonated Hitler down the Operation Orpheus phone line to the dead. He was convincing enough for the German officers to pass on information that helped the allies win the war.”

“Incredible,” said Mr Justice D. “But time marches on.”

“Indeed it does,” said Mr Boothy. “And so does England. After the war, Operation Orpheus was not disbanded. It was too good to disband. It was such a winner. Every successive government pumped money into it. Numerous impersonators did their stuff. Some impersonated the Russian Premier, some the President of the United States, etcetera, etcetera, depending on which particular dead person we wished to glean information from.”

“This is – how shall I put it? – somewhat sneaky,” said Mr Justice D.

“That’s the nature of covert operations, Your Honour.”

“Quite so. Please continue.”

“Well, Your Honour, back in the nineteen fifties, with radio equipment becoming ever more sophisticated, wavebands were being expanded. We discovered that there were wavebands within wavebands and others within them. It seems that there is an almost infinite number of wavebands. And when you tune into each of them, you find something there. Radio-wave transmissions are somewhat universal. If intelligent life exists somewhere in the universe, it inevitably stumbles upon radio waves. They are natural – part of the running order of the universe.

“The Ministry found that it was tuning in to life elsewhere in the galaxy. There were rumours that the Nazis had alien technology during the war, but this wasn’t true. No alien has ever set foot on this planet.”

“That’s a damned lie,” I said.

“Silence,” said the prison officer, raising his truncheon.

“But he’s lying,” I protested.

“No, I’m not,” said Mr Boothy. “When you entered the Ministry complex, you saw what you took to be aliens. But those weren’t aliens. Those were underground hive workers. Intraterrestrials. There is an entire civilization living beneath our feet in the bowels of the Earth. The Ministry of Serendipity communicates with them. They share their technology. It all helps Britannia to go on ruling the waves.”

“This has now become seriously wacky,” said Mr Justice D. “I think we’ll fry the murderer and adjourn for lunch.”

“If I might just raise an objection to that,” said Ms Ferguson: “I’d appreciate it if Your Honour would let Mr Boothy continue. His evidence is pertinent to this case.”

“Oh, go on then. Please continue, Mr Boothy.”

“Thank you once more, Your Honour. So, yes, we communicate with intraterrestrials and extraterrestrials, the latter being too far away to offer us much and we have yet to decipher much of their language. But, during the course of our communications and researches we discovered something quite mind-boggling. We discovered the human-brain radio frequency.”

“And what exactly might that be?” asked the judge. “Exactly and briefly.”

“We tuned in to the human brain. We discovered the radio frequency of thought. And we discovered that the thinking we think we do in our heads we don’t really do in our heads at all. The thinking is done somewhere else in the universe and beamed into our heads on a radio frequency, unique to each individual on the planet.”

“What are you suggesting?” asked the judge.

“I’m not suggesting it, Your Honour. I’m telling you it, because it’s true. Human beings don’t actually think. Their thinking is done somewhere else and beamed to their heads, which are, in a word – well, two words actually – radio receivers, from a distant planet in the galaxy. We’ve even identified it through the use of radio telescopes.”

“So you and I aren’t actually thinking?” said the magistrate. “We’re just puppet bodies being worked from afar?”

“In a word, yes.”

“Priceless,” said Mr Justice D, breaking down in laughter. “Absolutely priceless. I’m so glad that I was here today to hear this. My chaps at the golf club will fall about over this one. Thank you very much, Mr Boothy.”

Mr Boothy grinned at Ms Ferguson. “You see,” he said. “I told you this would happen. When you called me to appear at this court, I told you that you were wasting your time. That no one would believe a word I said. Would it be all right for me to leave the witness stand now? My dogs would like to go walkies.”

“Not quite yet,” said Ms Ferguson. “There are one or two matters I’d like to clear up.”

“Oh no, there aren’t,” said the magistrate. “I’ve heard quite enough.”

“But, Your Honour, there are certain matters here that need classification. Such as how, for instance, if all our thoughts are really occurring elsewhere in the galaxy, Mr Boothy is capable of even telling us.”

“Because,” said Mr Boothy, “I have learned who I really am. I know my true name. I am Panay Cloudrunner, Ninth Earl of Sirius. This body is not my true body. My true body is many light years away, orchestrating the actions of this body you see here before you.

“And I can tell you all this because Mr Justice Doveston won’t believe me. And do you know why he won’t believe me? It’s because his true self on a distant planet is pretending that he doesn’t believe me. Because the secret must and will never come out. And although you’re having a lot of fun with this, you, Lady Lovestar of the Golden Vale, daughter of King Elfram of Rigel Four, you know the truth of this anyway.”

“I am human,” said Ms Ferguson. “I am not orchestrated from afar.”

“Then there goes your defence for the defendant.”

“I mean to say that I am human. But he is a pawn, driven by the psychopathic thoughts of a distant alien life force that controls him.”

“Blumy,” I said. “Is that it?”

“Indeed,” said Ms Ferguson.

“Well, all right,” said Mr Boothy. “If the honourable magistrate, Mr Justice Doveston, or, as I know him, or, rather, the entity that controls his corporeal form knows him, Damos Cluterhower, Laird of Carmegon Quadrant, Star King of Alphanor, would care to own up and confess that everything I’ve just said is true, I might continue and tell you the really nasty bit.”

Mr Justice Doveston laughed some more. “Oh, go on, then,” he said. “You’re a real hoot, Panay, giving all this truth away to this lot. They’ll all have to be silenced afterwards, the no-marks – you know how it works.”

“No marks?” said Ms Ferguson.

“The uncontrollables,” said Mr Boothy. “Those who cannot be controlled from beyond. I fear, Ms Ferguson, that you are one of those.”

“But you called me Lady Lovestar.”

“Because that is the entity who constantly seeks to control you. But she can’t very often, can she? You see, the human brain is controllable. It is capable of receiving radio signals, the frequency of thought. But not all humans. Some, but not all. There will always be plenty who cannot be reached and controlled. Who will remain truly human. They are a real annoyance to us.”