“I can’t,” said Will. “My pocket watch was nicked.”

“Well, it’s nearing midnight, chief. Just five minutes to go.”

“What?”

“Always with the ‘whats?’ you schmuck.”

“Yeah!” went the crowd once more, all but deafening Will.

“And now.” Count Otto strutted some more about the circus ring. “The end is near. And we must face the final curtain.[33]

“My friends,” he continued, “I am going to make my case. Of which, as it happens, I am certain. I can tell you that I have lived a life that has been most full. And I have travelled upon each and every highway and more, in fact, a great deal more than this, I have done it all in the service of my Lord Satan.”

“That sort of spoiled the metre, didn’t it, chief?”

The audience went “Oooooooooh,” and “What?” and “Eh?” also. Some of the audience even said “Bless my soul.”

“Yes,” Count Otto Black nodded his black bearded head. “That’s what I said, Satan. That’s what you heard me say.”

There were shiftings in the audience now. Uncomfortable shiftings, movings from buttocks to buttocks, fans being wafted at increasing speeds, kid gloves being drawn on, top hats being pushed upon Macassar-oiled heads, preparatory to leaves being taken from seats.

“Still yourselves,” commanded Count Otto. “And do not think of taking leave of your seats. There is no escape for you.”

Grumblings rumbled through the audience, mutterings and utterings of outrage. And into the ring marched automata, many automata, many identical automata, terrific figures all, with the dead black eyes of demon-spawn and armpits reeking of brimstone. They drew out pistols of advanced design and waved these about in a menacing manner.

The crowd stilled to silence. The crowd was no longer such a merry crowd.

To the rear of this crowd, high up and skulking, Tim said to Will, “Now what do we do?”

“Slip away,” Will whispered back. “You slip out of the exit. Find the computer room. Sorry, Tim, but this is all fouled up.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“Barry,” said Will. “Take me back in time two minutes, to the centre of the circus ring. I’ll shoot Count Otto Black.”

“No can do, chief. Sorry. If you’d listened to me earlier, I could have advised you as to where might have been a good place to hide yourself, but you just wouldn’t listen. I can’t do what you ask, it’s not in my remit. It’s really cheating. But at least you are in the right place at the right time, which is something, eh? You’ll just have to play it by ear now.”

“Thanks a lot,” said Will.

“For what?” Tim asked.

“I was talking to Barry. Slip away, Tim. I’ll see if I can shoot Count Otto from here.”

Will drew a pistol from his belt.

And Tim slipped away.

He didn’t slip too far however, for Tim found the exit considerably barred.

A terrific figure loomed before this exit. It glared at Tim and fixed him with its dead black eyes. “Return to your seat,” it said, in a deeply-timbred, rich Germanic accent.

Will took very careful aim.

Way down in the circus ring a red laser dot appeared upon the forehead of Count Otto Black. Will squinted through the telescopic sight and gently squeezed upon the trigger.

And then the gun was struck from his hand.

And Will struck from his feet.

“I know what you must be wondering,” said Count Otto Black. “You must be wondering what this is all about. Perhaps you are thinking, ‘Aha Count Otto has some very special marvel in store for us, as a conclusion to his wondrous show. He promised us something extra special, and indeed this must be it’. And indeed, to this degree, you are entirely correct, because I promise you something particularly special. I promise you the end of civilisation as you know it.”

“Count Otto,” called Her Majesty (etc.). “I trust that this special entertainment and end of civilisation as we know it will not take too long. I have to return to Buckingham Palace within a very few minutes to watch the fireworks.”

Count Otto Black shook his head. “That is neither here, nor there,” he said. “What you are about to witness, you will have no recollection of tomorrow. You will awaken with memories that you enjoyed the fireworks, and memories too of your entire life, but these will not be true memories, because the past as you remember it and the present as you understand it, will have been erased.”

Queen Victoria made a puzzled face.

“An explanation is necessary, I feel.” Count Otto Black clapped his slender hands together. “Lords and ladies, one and all, allow me to introduce you to The Chiswick Townswomen’s Guild.”

Into the ring marched thirteen pinch-faced women.

They were as alike as those peas that dwell in the pod of metaphor. They wore lavish costumes of black damask embroidered with silk brocade. Their bodies were impossibly slender. The looks upon their tiny pinched-faces were intent.

They formed a circle about the Count and joined their hands together. And then they began to sway backwards and forwards, chanting softly and scuffing their heels in the sawdust.

“All ends here,” cried Count Otto Black. “The future changes, and also the past. Five sacrifices have been made below and now one will be made above.”

The audience did rumblings and mumblings. Most were now very keen indeed to be up and away.

“Be still now!” Count Otto raised his hands towards the dome where the stars twinkled on high. “A demonstration of power is required, I do believe. And why not upon those who have come here to do my master harm. In the twelfth and thirteenth seats of the very first row, I do believe.”

“Eh?” said the cabbie, checking his tickets. “That’s us, isn’t it, bruv?”

But sadly he said no more at all, as a bolt of fire shot down from above and reduced both him and his plastered brother to ashes, which really wasn’t fair.

The crowd went “Oooooooh!” and shrank very low in their seats.

Will opened his eyes and said, “Who hit me?” A terrific figure hauled him to his feet.

“Assassin alert,” said this terrific figure, holding Will in the grip that is known as “vice-like”.

“Oh,” went Count Otto and he put his finger to his ear, wherein rested a tiny radio receiver that held a Babbage patent. “I seem to have made an error. Might we have a spotlight shine upon the back row, to the left of the exit?”

A spotlight shone in that very direction.

It lit upon Will Starling. And also upon Tim, both held in the clutches of twin terrific figures.

“Mr Starling,” called Count Otto. “It is you lurking behind that beard, isn’t it? I knew you’d adopt a disguise. Please come down and join me. And your companion too.” He beckoned to the terrific figures. “Haul them down to me now.”

Will’s captor had Will’s arms pinned to his sides. Will struggled, but to no avail. The automaton hauled him down the aisle towards the ring. The second automaton did likewise with Tim.

“I suppose,” said Count Otto, as Will’s terrific captor deftly relieved Will of his weaponry and flung him down to the sawdust, “that it would be a pity if you missed this, as it does concern you so very personally.”

Will glared up at Count Otto Black. “You’ll get yours,” he said.

“Damn right,” agreed Tim, who now lay beside Will in the sawdust.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Count Otto smiled. “Not, at least, in the way that you mean. Bring on the sacrificial victim.”

And from beneath the orchestra stand, curtains drew back and two more automata appeared, hauling between them—

“My other self,” whispered Will.

But it was not Will’s other self.

“Colonel William Starling,” said Count Otto. “Of the Queen’s Own Aerial Cavalry. Your many-times great-grandfather, I believe.”

Will muttered swearings beneath his breath. The automaton pushed his foot down hard on Will’s back.