Un Lun Dun

89. The Vengeful Man

With a dreadful crash, the Unbrellissimo kicked through a window ahead of Deeba and Lectern. He landed in a crouch, his coat billowing about him. The air around him was thick with unbrellas, and the incessant click-click as they flew.

Brokkenbroll stood, and glowered.

“Congratulations, Deeba Resham,” he whispered. “You’ve managed to turn yourself into rather a pain. And now I learn you’ve poisoned I-don’t-know-how-many UnLondoners against me.”

Deeba, Lectern, and Curdle backed down the hall. Brokkenbroll made a hand motion, and unbrellas swept by them and opened, blocking their retreat. Only Curdle was small enough to squeeze through. Deeba heard it bounce off down the hall.

“I have worked, and worked, and worked at this,” Brokkenbroll said. “Didn’t I help? Didn’t I persuade my associate to leave your friend alone? There was no reason for you to come back. Everyone was happy.”

“Everyone except all the UnLondoners,” said Deeba.

“They’d have been fine! Holding out against an enemy! Under my careful guidance! Everyone happy!”

“You was lying just to take control!”

Brokkenbroll made yak-yak-yak-you-talk-too-much with his hands.

“I tried to treat you right,” he said. “But you threw it back in my face. You are so ungrateful.” He raised an unbrella high.

“Brokkenbroll, listen,” said Deeba desperately. “The Smog’s your enemy too.”

He paused.

“What nonsense are you on about?” he said.

“Think about it!” Deeba felt the canopies of the unbrellas, some torn, some with metal poking through, pressed against her back. She pointed at the window. “Why’s it showing its troops? That tells everyone Unstible’s not on their side! They’ll know not to trust him, and that means not to trust you. The Smog’s sabotaging your plans!”

Brokkenbroll stared at her. For a second, Deeba saw his doubt in his eyes.

“You…bad girl!” he said. “I don’t know how all this mess started, or what’s been spreading such malicious thought in the abcity. But blaming my partner…you really are a disgrace.”

He raised his unbrella again. Deeba reached for her UnGun.

It wasn’t there.

Deeba panicked so hard she dropped the book. “Ow!” it said as it landed.

Deeba patted her waistband frantically, rummaged in her pockets.

Lectern was holding the UnGun. She must have taken it from Deeba’s waistband. She was aiming it at Brokkenbroll.

He hesitated, staring at it.

“That’s right,” said Deeba. “We’ve got you covered. Don’t move. Well done, Lectern. Now give me it.”

The Propheseer looked at her with wide, dazed eyes, then down at the big pistol. Her mouth opened and closed. Brokkenbroll looked at her.

“Do you want to live?” he said. “You know you haven’t got a chance. Give me that now and I won’t kill you.”

“Shut up!” said Deeba. “You don’t scare us!”

Lectern stepped forward.

“Yes, he does,” she said. She turned the UnGun around and offered it, handle-first, to the Unbrellissimo.

“Are you crazy?” screamed Deeba, and leapt forward to try to grab it. She was too late. Brokkenbroll had it in his hand.

“There’s only one bullet left,” Lectern said. She was speaking very quickly. “I heard her talking about it. They know the Smog’s scared of it, but she’s only got one last shot. Her friends are downstairs. They beat the Hex with some utterlings. She doesn’t know exactly what she wants to do. She’s following the smell of the Smog…”

Her voice petered out. Deeba stared at her, speechless with outrage.

“Sorry Deeba,” said Lectern. She stood next to Brokkenbroll, and nodded her head in his direction. “But look at him. We haven’t got a hope. I don’t want to die.”

Deeba lurched forward to grab her; but Brokkenbroll made a tiny motion, and unbrella handles grabbed Deeba from behind, held her still.

“Excellent choice, Propheseer,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do in the new government. One shot left, you say? Do be quiet, Miss Resham.”

An unbrella clamped into her mouth. Brokkenbroll examined the UnGun curiously while Deeba struggled in the unbrellas’ grasp.

“I don’t have to listen to your unpleasant, troublemaking lies,” Brokkenbroll said. “I will have a little word with my partner, however. I’ll clarify exactly what has gone wrong, and what we can do about it. Nothing is unfixable.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, looking decidedly wild for a moment. “But first— I’m not going to let you get in my way again.

“It might surprise you to hear that I can be extremely insecure. Particularly when someone seems intent on undermining my plans. Out of pure malice.” He shook his head and looked wounded. “Well, since we had our last little altercation, I’ve kept something with me. To remind me that no matter how much trouble you’ve managed to make yourself, I still win.”

He beckoned. From behind Deeba’s back, one of the broken umbrellas came dancing forward. It was red, with a design of crawling lizards. Its canopy was torn, and flapped along the rip.

“Ass ngine,” Deeba said through her gag.

“It is indeed yours,” Brokkenbroll said. “Or, it was. One split, and it was mine. Do you want to see how very mine?”

He made a little motion. He turned and walked towards the door.

What had once been Deeba’s umbrella leapt up, put its handle around her neck, and began to squeeze.

Deeba couldn’t breathe.