“You’ve got it?”

“Yes, I think I have. Look at the way the pieces have fallen. Look at all the different colours. The colours of the rainbow. Like the flowers on the floral clock. Help me gather them up.”

Johnny Boy helped in the gathering up and in the sorting out.

Icarus Smith did the putting into order and then the laying down. “Some came in violet, some in indigo, In blue, green, yellow, orange, red, They made a pretty row.”

“Rainbow,” said Johnny Boy. “That’s pretty.”

“Yes it is. And now the biro lines join up and spell something.”

“What do they spell? What do they spell?”

“Words,” said Icarus. “They spell, TOP OF THE BILL. What does that mean, TOP OF THE BILL?”

“I know what it means,” said Johnny Boy.

“Then tell me, please.”

“Me and the professor,” said Johnny Boy, and he bowed grandly to Icarus. “Me and the professor were once top of the bill.”

“Go on.”

“Back in the nineteen fifties. Long before you were even born. The professor was a stage magician, Vince Zodiac, he called himself, or the Vince of Darkness, I liked that one. But he was a pretty crap magician and he was usually near the bottom of the bill. Until he met me. I’ve always been right down at the bottom. Life’s like that, when you’re a midget. But anyhow, I met the professor one night in a bar. He stepped on me, people often do. He was rather drunk. Drank far too much, the professor. Mind you, if he hadn’t been drunk, he wouldn’t have seen the flowers on the floral clock. Even if the floral clock doesn’t exist.

“But I digress, he was drunk and I was sore because he’d stepped on me and he bought me a drink and we got to talking and that’s how the stage act came to be. Professor Zodiac and Johnny Boy. He dressed up as a headmaster and I was dressed as a schoolboy and made up to look like a ventriloquist’s dummy. I had a special box with air holes that he used to carry me in and out of the theatres in. No-one twigged that I was a person and not a dummy. We made it to top of the bill.”

“So where is the formula hidden?” asked Icarus.

“I’m coming to that. Top of the bill we were. But just for the one night. The professor drank too much champagne at the backstage party and knocked me out of my box. I didn’t half howl. And the game was up. That was the professor out of showbiz. But he felt a duty to me, because he was a good man and he was never cut out for showbiz anyway, he was a scientist. He stuck with me and I stuck by him. We were good friends.”

Tears came once more to the eyes of the tiny man.

“I’m so sorry,” said Icarus. “But do you know where the formula is hidden?”

“Of course I do. We were only ever top of the bill at the one place and that was the Chiswick Empire. That’s where the formula will be hidden.”

“Then let’s go,” said Icarus Smith.

“They pulled it down,” said Johnny Boy. “Years ago.”

“So what’s there now?”

“On the site? A multi-storey car park.”

Icarus gnawed upon a knuckle. “Did the professor own a car?” he asked.

“He did, but he didn’t drive it much. He’d drive it drunk and in the mornings he wouldn’t be able to remember where he parked it.”

“So where is this car now?”

Johnny Boy shrugged. “I haven’t seen it for weeks. It could be anywhere.”

“Like for instance, parked in a multi-storey car park?”

“Ah,” said Johnny. “That might just be.”

“Then I will go and search for it. What kind of car did the professor drive?”

“A red Ford Fiesta. But there’s millions of them. I’ll know the one when I see it.”

“Ah,” said Icarus. “I was thinking of going alone. There might well be danger. There always is, in the movies.”

“I’m coming too,” said Johnny Boy, stamping his tiny feet. “I’ve trusted you from the word off. Why did you think I trusted you?”

“I don’t know.” Icarus shook his head. “I’ve been wondering about that.”

“Because I can see.” Johnny Boy pointed to his little dolly eyes. “I can see the truth. I can see who’s who.”

“What are you saying?”

“Wake up, sonny. I can see because I took the drug. I was the only one the professor could trust. And if you’re going to take it too, you’re going to need me there. You won’t like what you see, when you see it.”

Icarus Smith left the house of the late Professor Partington, struggling under the weight of a case. It was not a briefcase this time, although he certainly hadn’t struggled under the weight of that, it was a special case. A case with air holes in it.

The conductor of the Chiswick-bound bus wouldn’t let Icarus get on with his big case. Icarus was forced to hail a taxi.

The taxi driver tossed the case into the boot and slammed it shut. Icarus winced and climbed into the passenger seat. “Chiswick High Street and fast,” said he. “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

The taxi took off at a leisurely pace.

Icarus chewed upon his bottom lip.

Had Icarus been looking into the driver’s mirror, he might well have noticed the long dark automobile with the blacked out windows that was following the taxi. It was the same long dark automobile that had been parked in a side road opposite Wisteria Lodge when Icarus had entered the house, two hours earlier. And it had driven quite slowly up the road behind him, when he left the house.

But Icarus apparently hadn’t noticed the car upon his arrival, nor when he left, and, as he wasn’t looking into the driver’s mirror, he didn’t notice it now.

Icarus sat and gnawed upon his knuckle. He was fully aware that he was in considerable danger. The men from the Ministry of Serendipity would probably stop at nothing to get their hands on the professor’s formula. And also Mr Cormerant’s briefcase and its contents. Bringing Johnny Boy along for the ride had not been the best of ideas. Although, if Johnny Boy had taken the drug and he was right about Icarus needing him to be there when Icarus took it …

Icarus gnawed some more. He’d actually considered leaving the boxed-up Johnny Boy on the bus. Someone would have let him out sooner or later. It would have been cruel, but it might have been kinder in the long run. But Icarus certainly didn’t think that leaving him in the boot of a taxi was any solution to anything.

“Can’t you go any faster?” asked Icarus Smith.

“Of course I can go faster,” said the cabbie, in the voice that cabbies use. “But I won’t.”

Icarus glanced across at the cabbie. He was your typical cabbie. He talked exactly as your typical cabbie always talks and looked exactly the way that your typical cabbie always looks. Even down to that curious thing they do to their hair on the left hand side and that odd business with the tongue when they pronounce the word “plinth”.[9]

So there was no need to bother here with a description.

“I’ve done the knowledge, you know,” said the cabbie, doing that other thing that cabbies always do. That thing with the eyes. “And I know the name of every street in Greater and Inner London off by heart. You can test me if you want.”

“I don’t want,” said Icarus.

“It might make me drive faster.”

“All right,” Icarus sighed. “Name a street beginning with W.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You name a street in London and I’ll tell you how to get to it.”

“Chiswick High Street,” said Icarus.

“No, not Chiswick High Street. We’re almost in Chiswick High Street. A street that’s nowhere near here. One that’s on the other side of London.”

“Mornington Crescent,” said Icarus, recalling the address of the Ministry of Serendipity.

The cabbie scratched at his hair on the left hand side. “There’s no such street,” he said. “You’re pulling my blue carbuncle.”

“Your what?”