“I’ve done all manner of things.”

“About my boyfriend. I reported him missing. The gormsters on your front desk just laughed and looked down the front of my frock.”

Bellis, doing likewise, ceased this doing. “We’re on the case, madam,” he said.

“Well, you’d better get a move on. I’ve just come from a chapter meeting and from what I’ve heard there’s not going to be much time left to do anything.”

Tinto placed Amelie’s drink before her. It was short and warm, but it did have plenty of alcohol in it.

“Chapter meeting?” said Bellis to Amelie, averting his eyes from her breasts and straying them down to her legs.

“Chapter meeting, you dirty old pervert, I am a member of The Daughters of the Unseeable Upness.”

“Ah,” said Bellis, “one of those.”

“And according to our Chapter Mother, tonight is the night of the Big Closing. After tonight there will be no more nights, ever.”

“Really?” said Bellis. “And you personally hold to this belief?”

“I do,” said Amelie. “Which is why I intend to get very, very drunk tonight and, if given the opportunity, fulfil my wildest fantasies.”

“Really?” said Bellis. “And might these fantasies include having sex with a hero?”

“Women’s fantasies generally do. When they don’t include having sex with an absolute villain.”

“Interesting,” said Bellis. “So would these fantasies include having sex with a police hero? One who brought to book the evil mastermind, the source of inspiration who puts ideas into the head of a mass-murderer?”

“Undoubtedly,” said Amelie, tipping her drink down her throat. “Well …” said Wellington Bellis.

And, “Well,” said the other Eddie to his failing counterpart. “As time is now rapidly running out for you and the chickens are on a tight schedule, we’d better let you say hello to Her Madge, eh?”

“That would be nice,” said Eddie, tottering somewhat as he did so. “Then I could wish her well and everything.”

“You are such a well-adjusted bear,” said Eddie’s other self.

“I try my best,” said Eddie. “Oh, and might I ask you something?”

“Indeed, my friend, you might.”

“Well, I was just wondering – what would happen if something were to happen to Her Majesty?”

“Happen?” said the other Eddie.

“Something bad,” said Eddie. “Some accident or something.”

“That is not going to happen. Believe me, it is not.”

“No,” said Eddie, “of course not. But say it did. Say the unthinkable occurred, something that you were unable to prevent. Some tragedy, resulting in Her Majesty’s untimely demise.”

“Such is unthinkable, of course.”

“But imagine if you did think it. How would it affect the chickens’ plans for inter-world domination?”

“Rather hugely, I imagine.” And the other Eddie laughed. “You see, there is no royal line of succession in the chicken queendom. Too many princesses, you see. The chicken queendom is a matriarchy, democratically elected. But a queen will live for hundreds of years – chickens do if they’re not interfered with. But it is the tradition that a new queen will overthrow and reverse all the policies made by a previous queen.”

“And why is that?” asked Eddie.

“It’s a tradition,” said the other Eddie. “It is, of course, the tradition everywhere amongst politicians. Here, for instance, in the USA, each new candidate for the presidency promises the people that should he gain the position of power, he will dump all his predecessor’s policies and begin anew. And if the population believe him, they vote him in.”

“And so he does what he says?” said Eddie.

“No,” said the other one. “He does nothing of the kind. Because he lied to the people. The problem with this world is that everyone lies to everyone else. Nobody tells the truth. Nobody. That’s another reason why things are in such a mess. But chickens cannot lie. They always tell the truth. Should this Queen die, the new Queen would reverse everything. Not because she wanted to, but because it is tradition. Which is why it’s a very good thing that chicken queens live for such a long time, or there would be no progress.”

“Interesting,” said Eddie Bear. “So can I meet the Queen now, please?”

“Now, I’m saying please,” said Samuel J. Maggott, Police Chief of LAPD, “because I’m such a nice man, and because I bear you no malice for the mayhem you wrought upon the personnel of this precinct.”

“Really?” said the other Jack. “That’s nice all round then, isn’t it?”

They were in Sam’s office, the other Jack handcuffed to the visitors’ chair, a goodly number of knocked-about-looking officers standing around looking “useful”. A troubled young detective smoking a cigarette. A feisty young female officer paring her fingernails with a bowie knife.

“All I want to know is why?” said Sam. “Why the kidnappings at the Golden Chicken Headquarters? Why all the mayhem during your escape? And why flee to a secret military establishment, of all places? The mysterious Area Fifty-Two? What were you doing there?”

“I demand my phone call,” said the other Jack. “I am entitled to my phone call.”

“And you’ll get to make your phone call. As soon as you’ve answered my questions. Would you care for some coffee?”

“The coffee machine’s still on the blink, Chief,” said the troubled young detective, putting his cigarette stub out on Sam’s desk with a bandaged hand. “We could send the feisty female officer here out to the diner to get some.”

“You could try,” said the feisty female officer, adjusting the arm that she had in a sling.

“And you’ll do it if I tell you,” said Sam. “So, young man, Mister Jack-no-surname, from wherever you come from – are you hungry, would you like something to eat?”

The other Jack said, “Yes, I would, before I make my phone call.”

“Then pop out to the Golden Chicken Diner, would you, honey?”

“‘Honey’?” said the feisty female officer, flipping Sam “the bird”.

“Get us in coffees all round. And eats, too. We’ll all have chicken burgers.”

“Chicken burgers?” The other Jack flinched. “I don’t want chicken burgers.”

“Don’t want chicken burgers? Are you some kind of weirdo, buddy? No, don’t answer that, I know you are. But don’t want chicken burgers? What kind of madness is that? Everyone wants chicken burgers. Everyone needs chicken burgers. You’ll have chicken burgers and you’ll love chicken burgers. Just as everyone does.”

“Oh no I won’t,” said the other Jack, struggling in the visitors’ chair. “I’m getting out of here. Let me go, you have the wrong man. You’re making a big mistake.”

“Get the burgers, feisty lady,” said Police Chief Sam.

“No!” The other Jack fought fiercely.

“Don’t go hurting yourself,” said Sam. “Those cuffs are made of high-tensile steel. You’ll not break out of them.”

“Oh really?” And the other Jack fought. And as Sam looked on and the officers looked on and a chap from the ACME Coffee Machine Company who had come to fix the machine in Sam’s office looked on (through the glass of Sam’s office door), the other Jack rose from the visitor’s chair. The steel cuffs ripped down through his hands, ripped his hands most horribly from his wrists. The ankle cuffs restraining his feet fell down to the floor and the other Jack’s feet fell, too.

Sam Maggott made a horrified face, which matched all others present. He fell back in considerable alarm as the handless, footless other Jack rose up before him. And then the officers fell upon this Jack and awful things occurred.

“Let us not speak of awful things,” said the other Eddie, leading the wobbly Real McCoy towards a flying saucer. “Come aboard the mothership and you will meet Her Madge.”

“I think it had better be quick,” said Eddie, “for I am all over the place.”