The Dance of the Voodoo Handbag

8

Billy took two suitcases to the station. One contained his clothes. The other, his granny. It was now Wednesday morning, and as on Wednesday mornings Billy's mother always took breakfast in a high tree at the end of the garden, Billy had taken the opportunity to slip away through the front door.

The telephone conversation of the previous evening had not been to Billy's liking. The man at Necrosoft was vague and evasive. He did not answer Billy's questions to Billy's satisfaction. He offered Billy fifty quid for his granny, '˜and no more questions asked' and then put down the phone when Billy asked more questions. Billy called back, but there'd been no reply.

So Billy set out for Brentford.

He would take the offices of Necrosoft by storm.

But it would be a gentle storm. More of a light shower, really. A bit of a breeze that would waft Billy gently into employment. Once the management of Necrosoft met Billy they would be instantly impressed by his eminent suitability. Billy would be just the chap they needed. He would fit in perfectly. After all, he looked like all the rest.

Only he knew he was different.

And how very different he was.

Billy caught the London mail train at Bramfield Halt. He did not have the exact address of Necrosoft. The package had said only Brentford, Middlesex, and the unhelpful chap Billy had spoken to on the phone refused to give out the address. But this presented no problem for Billy.

Once Billy had found himself an empty carriage, he placed the suitcase containing his granny on the luggage rack and opened the other on his knees. From this he took out a brightly coloured parcel. It was addressed simply to NECROSOFT INDUSTRIES. BRENTFORD. MIDDLESEX. Billy closed his suitcase and placed this on the other luggage rack. Then he slipped along the train to the guard's van and when the guard was distracted he slipped the parcel into the mail sack marked Brentford.

And then Billy went off to the buffet car and had a cup of tea.

Now, for most travellers, entering Brentford for the first time is an unforgettable experience. The sky seems bluer here, the grass more green, the trees more tall, the river much more rivery. And see, the mellow London brick, the grey slate roofs, the terracotta chimneys. And view the women, fair of face, the happy children singing hymns, the tradesmen plying their trades. And smell the honeysuckle and the dog rose and the sweet wild-

Billy checked his suitcases into the left-luggage office, then stood upon a corner of the street smoking a cigarette and gently squeezing the bright plastic something he'd received in the post.

Presently a van came to pick up the mail sacks. Billy followed it the two streets to the sorting office. Outside he smoked two more cigarettes and gave the something further squeezings. And then he followed the postman who came out pushing a bicycle.

On the front of the bicycle was a rack and in the rack were several drab brown paper parcels and one that was brightly coloured.

Billy kept his eyes on this.

The postman set off upon his round. He was a very small postman. Positively dwarf-like. Billy wondered whether, perhaps, he was Welsh.

The small postman went about his business in a ,quite unhurried fashion. He dillied and dallied and dawdled. He looked into shop windows and picked flowers in the park. He did take a short cut across the allotments, but only so he could steal some sprouts from one of the plots. It was nearly three in the afternoon before he parked his bicycle next to a boarded-up shop front and took Billy's parcel from its rack.

Billy hastened forward. He squeezed himself between the postman and the shop door.

'˜Something for Necrosoft?' he said. '˜I'll take it, I'm just going in.'

The small postman looked up at him. '˜There's three bob to pay,' he said.

'˜There bloody isn't,' said Billy, who knew he had put on sufficient stamps.

'˜And how would you know?'

Billy smiled. How would he indeed? '˜Three bob, you say?' And he fished out the coinage and gave it to the postman.

'˜Have a nice day,' said the postman, passing him the parcel.

Billy watched the postman as he dilly-dallied and dawdled away. And then he took stock of the shop front. This was not what he had expected. He had expected some big corporation building, all mirror glass and Bauhaus furniture. Why would Necrosoft Industries, '˜The cutting edge of computer technology', be holed up in a dump like this?

Billy pushed upon the door, which opened groaning on its hinges. He stuck in his head and sniffed. The air smelt stale. He stepped into the shop. It had evidently once been a draper's. Most of the old fixtures and fittings remained, hung with cobwebs and downy with dust. Wan light fell through the unwashed windows, illuminating here, a tailor's dummy standing like an impaled torso, and there, some mouldy balls of wool that looked like shrunken heads. These were not sights to inspire confidence in Billy.

The lad glanced down at the floor. There were the signs of many footprints, leading from the shop door to- Where?

To a stairway at the rear.

Billy crossed the shop floor and felt his way up the unlit stairs. At the top a door, and Billy pushed it open.

'˜Come in,' said a voice. '˜You're late.'

Billy found himself in a dull little room. Lit by a single dangling bulb and containing nothing but a table and two chairs. Behind the table on one of the chairs sat a young man. He was pale and hollow-eyed, stubble-chinned and shabby. '˜Sit down,' he said. And Billy sat.

'˜Right then,' said the young man. '˜I was just going to ask how you did it, but I see your parcel. Very enterprising.'

'˜Thank you,' said Billy.

'˜And polite with it,' said the young man.

'˜I do my best to please.'

'˜I'll bet you do.'

'˜Is this the office of Necrosoft?' Billy asked.

The young man nodded, spilling specks of dandruff '˜You were expecting something far more flashy, I'll bet.'

'˜You can't always tell a book by its cover,' said Billy with care.

'˜You can if it's written by Johnny Quinn,' said the young man. '˜So, let's have a look at you. Stand up.'

And Billy stood up.

'˜Sit down.'

And Billy sat down again.

'˜Stand up.'ќ

And Billy stood up once more.

'˜And stay.'

And Billy stayed.

'˜It's impressive, isn't it?' said the young man.

'˜What is?'

'˜The way you do exactly what you're told.'

'˜If you say so.'

'˜I do. And I'll prove it. Whip your willy out.'

'˜What?' said Billy.

'˜Your willy. Whip it out. Let me have a look at it.' Billy slowly unzipped his trousers and exposed himself to the young man.

'˜Mine's bigger than that,' said the young man. '˜Now tuck it away and sit down.'

Billy did so in considerable confusion.

'˜Wondering how it's done? Why you did what I told you?'

Billy nodded.

'˜Get out your little plastic something.' Billy took it from his pocket.

'˜Put it on the table.'

Billy tried to, but he couldn't.

'˜Don't want to part with it, eh? They never do.'

'˜I don't understand.'

'˜Of course you don't. But I'll explain: the plastic something is impregnated with a special chemical. It's addictive and it makes you subservient.'

'˜There's no such chemical,' said Billy.

'˜Oh yes there is. It comes from the Amazon. Johnny Quinn discovered it.'

'˜And who's this Johnny Quinn?'

'˜You've never heard of him?'

'˜Never.'

'˜That's because you're different, you see. You're like me, I'm different too. In a few years from now things are going to be very different from the way they are today. And that's when folk like us will really come into our own. We're the vanguard of the new movement, we are.'

'˜Are we now?'

'˜Yes we are. The world's full of greedy bastards who'll happily sell their old grannies. But we're not looking for them, well, we are of course, but not quite yet. For now we're looking for the different greedy bastards. The special ones. The ones special enough to use their initiative and find their way here.'

'˜It didn't take that much initiative,' said Billy. '˜It was pretty straightforward.'

'˜Don't be modest.'

'˜OK,' said Billy. '˜I won't.'

'˜That's right, you won't. Not if I say you won't. In fact you'll do whatever I say. Whatever I say. I can make you do anything I want, just by asking. So you'd better be polite to me, if you know what's good for you.'

Billy nodded, thoughtfully. '˜Do you have one of these little plastic impregnated somethings yourself?' he asked.

'˜Of course I do.'

'˜Please show it to me.'

The young man took his from his pocket and held it tightly. '˜I won't give it to you,' he said. '˜So don't waste your time asking.'

'˜Oh, I had no intention of doing that. But surely your one is bigger than mine.

'˜Like my willy,' said the young man.

'˜Indeed,' said Billy. '˜But I bet mine weighs more.'

'˜Don't be absurd,' said the young man.

'˜I'll bet it does. Here.' He extended his hand. '˜Take it and feel the two together. Tell me I'm not wrong.'

'˜Okey doke.' The young man reached across the table and took the bright plastic something from Billy's outstretched hand. Billy felt a sense of terrible loss as it left his possession. As if the most precious item he had ever owned was being torn from his grasp. He bit at his lip and gripped the edge of the table. Sweat broke out on his brow and his breath came in strangled gasps.

'˜Here take it back,' said the young man. '˜It's exactly the same as mine really.'

'˜No,' said Billy, through gritted teeth. '˜You keep it.'

'˜Oh, thanks very much.' The young man grinned hugely and tucked Billy's treasure into his trouser pocket.

Billy took several very deep breaths and then he too grinned hugely. '˜Now,' he said slowly, '˜show me your willy.'

The police fished the young man's body from the canal a week later. The coroner's report stated that he had been the victim of a violent sexual assault. But this was not the cause of his death. Death was due to asphyxiation, a small bright plastic something being lodged in his windpipe.