The Last Adventure of Dr. Yngve Hogalum (The Magnetron Chronicles) (5 page)

“
[Hawkshaw] heaved Coburn’s revolver back into firing position and pulled on the trigger. It wouldn’t budge. ‘You’ll have to squeeze a bit harder, mate,’ snorted Coburn.”

Coburn laughed derisively at Hawkshaw, goading him pitilessly.
“I’ll wager fifty dollars you can’t hit that balloon from here,” he said. The constable’s fragile virility thus impugned, he disengaged his squinty scrutiny from the
Caelestis
and directed it at Coburn in a thoroughly ineffective attempt at intimidation.

“
Do not mock me, sir!” he menaced. Coburn replied with matter-of-fact nonchalance. “I’m not mocking you, mate, I am mocking your thoroughly inadequate weapon. I find it scandalous that an officer of the law such as yourself should be so modestly equipped.”

Evidently,
Hawkshaw perceived Coburn’s stratagem and began aiming at the
Caelestis
once again. “It gets the job done,” he growled. Coburn continued. “Look, mate, if you manage to defy gravity and actually hit your target with that pea shooter, the pea will simply bounce from the balloon and fall harmlessly to Earth.”

“
We shall see,” said Hawkshaw through clenched teeth. “Here, constable,” continued Coburn, “I insist you use my revolver.” He unholstered an enormous Belgian-made twenty-chamber revolver from an elaborately tooled leather holster and held it by the barrel, waving the grip in Hawkshaw’s line of sight. The constable found himself quite unable to resist. “May I?” he asked with childlike incredulity. Coburn nodded, and they exchanged weapons. Hawkshaw’s arms wavered and bobbed under the burden of the fully loaded revolver. “Make that a hundred dollars,” said Coburn.

The
Caelestis
was hastening her ascent as the wind accelerated her departure. I ran along, barking out commands to Dr. Hogalum, although I have no idea whether he could hear me. Pung had escaped Mrs. Mackenzie’s grasp and joined the chase, exhorting the doctor to “fly away!” The
Caelestis
brushed aside a few pliable top branches as she barely cleared the last maple tree in her path.

The constable had his own problems as he was still surrounded by
the four Hogalum Society members, each of them offering their own peculiar brand of assistance.

“
Mind your trajectory, constable,” admonished Cerebelli before beginning a lengthy explanation of momentum and gravity. “Yes, yes, a little higher...”

“
Perhaps it is not your weapon which is wavering,” advised Valkusian in a soothing voice. “Perhaps it is your target which is moving, eh? Or perhaps both?  Or perhaps
your mind is playing tricks on you
.”

Hawkshaw lowered his weapon as his confusion gave way to a heated outburst.
“Be quiet! All of you! Do you think I don’t see what you are doing? Do you think I am some kind of fool?” He heaved Coburn’s revolver back into firing position and pulled on the trigger. It wouldn’t budge. “You’ll have to squeeze a bit harder, mate,” snorted Coburn.

Satyros began to apologize profusely.
“Terribly sorry! We are only trying to help, you see?” Satyros adopted an air of conspiratorial disclosure, whispering apologetically. “We’re all ardent devotees of law enforcement and we often find ourselves unable to contain our enthusiasm in the midst of dedicated practitioners such as yourself.”

Hawkshaw wedged as many fingers as would fit inside the trigger guard and was beginning to make some headway.

“Please accept this token of our esteem,” said Satyros, gesturing at an empty point in space directly in front of Hawkshaw.

The next three occurrences transpir
ed more or less simultaneously…

“
Hawkshaw was exploding with a passionate wrathfulness. ‘Do you hear me? I hereby arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania!’”

Dr. Hogalum and the
Caelestis
were nearly out of pistol range when Satyros exclaimed, “
Hey Presto
!” Perhaps one thousandth of one second elapsed between this theatrical ejaculation and the appearance—seemingly from thin air—of a large bouquet of carnations directly in front of Constable Hawkshaw’s face. Another millisecond later, the constable finally succeeded in overcoming the intractable action on Coburn’s revolver, firing wildly. He threw down the weapon and grabbed his own from Coburn, whose hands were going limp in preparation for a great whooping belly laugh. Hawkshaw emptied every chamber in rapid-fire futility as the
Caelestis
continued her ascent into the heavens.

“
Damn, damn,
damn
! You are all under
arrest
!” Hawkshaw was exploding with a passionate wrathfulness. “Do you hear me? I hereby arrest you in the name of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania!”

Valkusian held forth at this critical juncture, smiling thinly and emitting mellifluous streams of mollifying fiddle-faddle, transfixing the constable in a gossamer mental snare.
  “You are angry at us, yes? Why do you not tell us why, hmmm?”

“
Because you wouldn’t shut up! You-you-you were obstructing justice! You-you-you—”

“
Come now, Constable, Atticus has already explained our over-enthusiasm, has he not? We have all been as helpful as we are able in our own bumbling maladroitness, wouldn’t you agree, constable? Now tell me, what is your name?”

“
Hawkshaw, but do not—”

“
Your given name?”

“
Pardon?”

“
Your first name?”

“
Oh, it’s Kenneth.”

“
Kenneth! A fine name. Now, as I was saying, Kenneth, we have tried to be helpful, but you remain unappreciative, even hostile. Does this situation remind you of a time, oh, say, from your childhood when well-meaning adults upset you? Your parents, perhaps?”

This exchange continued well into the evening, Valkusian and Hawkshaw eventually retiring to my study.
Coburn and Satyros recounted to me their efforts in confounding the constable while Cerebelli surveyed my laboratory. The constable left in the late evening, his eyes red and puffy, a wan smile on his exhausted countenance. Valkusian offered his card and a generous law enforcement discount to the departing lawman. “Thank you, doctor,” said Hawkshaw through his handkerchief.

We regrouped in the drawing room.
I felt like a schoolchild caught in the act of some misdemeanor, certain the headmaster would administer a painful and humiliating lashing. “Magnetron,” said Valkusian, “We shall have a word with you now.”

“
Anton Karswell Valkusian was many things, but he was rarely sarcastic. And yet, there was something about his inflection on the word ‘skiing.’”

I was silent for a very long time as the Hogalum Society members interrogated me at length, attempting to apprehend the nature of my perverse transgressions.
“Why have you undertaken such a berserk and yet clearly premeditated deed?” asked Cerebelli. “Why have you defied us?” asked Valkusian. “Where do you keep your scotch?” asked Coburn.

I kept mute for as long as I could endure.
I could think of nothing that would extricate me.

Satyros sprawled with double-jointed fluidity over his favorite overstuffed chair.
He engaged in an annoying exercise with a coin, causing the silver disk to tumble end over end, somersaulting over each finger of his hand in turn, and then—when it seemed it would fall to the floor—he reversed the process, walking the damnable thing in the other direction across his outstretched digits.

I could bear it no longer.
“It
worked
!” I exclaimed suddenly. “Is that not justification enough? You all thought I was mad, but Dr. Hogalum believed in me. We worked as a team, we did. And now he has realized his greatest dream, to visit distant worlds! No, gentlemen. I apologize for deceiving you, but I will not apologize for what I have done!”

Valkusian
regarded me coldly, a sneer playing about his face. “Yes, of course,” he said. “No doubt Dr. Hogalum is now skiing in the Leibnitz Range and quaffing lunar toddies. Indeed, you have outdone yourself, Phineas.”

Anton Karswell Valkusian was many things, but he was rarely sarcastic.
And yet, there was something about his inflection on the word “skiing.”

“
You do not believe me?” I probed. The men spoke hideous volumes by remaining absolutely silent. “You do not believe me! Did you not see him waving his tail in farewell?”

“
Magnetron—” began Satyros.

“
My God! You think I have decapitated the corpse of our beloved Dr. Hogalum and merely disposed of his lifeless head as so much evidence! You think—” I shuddered to my very core, unable to continue. “Leave me!”

“
Magnetron, we believe you,” offered Satyros, his eyes darting back and forth at the other Hogalums. “Isn’t that right, gentlemen? Yes, yes, of course we do. Now, I believe what Phineas needs is a hot bath and a good night’s—”

“
Leave me!” I demanded once again, but they moved not a muscle. I removed myself from the drawing room rather hastily, whereupon I collided with Mrs. Mackenzie in the hallway. “Mrs. Mackenzie! They do not believe me! They think me a crackpot and a criminal, puttering with the head of a corpse! They—”

“
I know,” she consoled, “I know.” She had been eavesdropping again.

At that moment I heard a familiar ticking sound emanating from within my laboratory down the corridor.
The wireless telegraph!
Ha-hah
! Dr. Hogalum would have his say at last!

“
Was he hopelessly adrift, unable to direct his course through the cold vastness of space, upside-down perhaps, or flying around in useless circles?”

I dispatched Mrs.
Mackenzie to retrieve the Hogalums from the drawing room so that they might hear Dr. Hogalum’s communiqué for themselves, and raced toward my Masterstroke Mill. I heard a great clamor and much scuffling as the group was assembled and directed down the corridor to join me.

As I transcribed, a great burden lifted from my weary soul.
The details of the doctor’s transmission were but prosaic minutiae compared with my relief that he was well. Up until that moment, I had been consumed by a terrifying dread. I knew that Dr. Hogalum lived—of that I had no doubt. But what if the
Caelestis
herself had failed? What if I had consigned my dearest friend to a fate worse than death? Was he hopelessly adrift, unable to direct his course through the cold vastness of space, upside-down perhaps, or flying around in useless circles?

The doctor
’s signal was rapidly fading, but I was able to discern some heartening snippets:

Dah-dah dih-dah dih-dah-dih dah dih-dih dih-dah dah-dih…

“… Martian people are lovely… cannot equal our science of course… send their regards… difficulty communicating… excellent liquor…”

The Hogalum members burst into my laboratory as I was attempting my own transmission.
Dih-dah-dah dih-dih-dih-dih dih dih-dah-dih…
“Where will you go next?” I asked.

Silence.
The signal was faded to nothing. We waited expectantly for a response, but none was forthcoming. At some length, Mrs. Mackenzie broke the silence.

“
You see, gentlemen. Mr. Magnetron has done what he set out to do. Like you, I can’t say I approve of his deceit, and the thought of a man’s head rollin’ about in me home is unsettlin’ to say the least. But the experiment was most certainly a success. I saw it with me own horrified eyes.”

Valkusian
’s eyes remained cemented to the wireless telegraph. “Science! You strange and unpredictable animal! Once again, you make nonsense of our human notions of morality.”

Cerebelli nodded vigorously as he disagreed.
“Here is a science which has granted a hero his wish of further heroism. Can there be a more sensible or desirable result of scientific inquiry?”

“
I think not,” said Satyros. “Besides, it’s a hell of a trick.”

Coburn spoke last.
“Right! I’d say this calls for a scotch, eh, mates?”

“
I’ll go fetch us all some Dr. Hogalum’s Inebriol,” volunteered Mrs. Mackenzie. “A fitting toast, I’d say.”

Everyone nodded in the affirmative and fell silent.
“I wish he could have answered,” I said. “Where he’s going next, that is.”

At that moment, the wireless telegraph sprang to life once again, rapping out the last known words of the incomparable Dr. Hogalum.
Dah-dah-dah dah-dih dih…

“
One…” Cerebelli translated aloud, “world… at… a… time.”