SAOS: Postscript:

      Ok, that's it. No more story. You can go now. Thanks for paying attention. I hope you enjoyed it.

      What, still here? It's over, quit hanging around!

      Sorry? Forgotten something? No, I haven't! I'm certain!

     

      No, I haven't. Look, there's nothing left for me to tell you here. Story's over. The End.

      I really mean it... I'm going to get upset in a minute. And you really wouldn't like that, now would you?

      Alright, what is it I'm supposed to have forgotten then?

      Ah...

      Um...

      Er...

      Ok, I'm really sorry, slipped my mind completely. When you're as old as I am, you forget things. Fact of life.

      Besides, you've already sussed out who I am, haven't you.

      Come on, admit it...

      Yup, you got it. But just to confirm, I'll sign off with my proper name. And thanks again folks, you've been a wonderful audience! Thank you, and good night!

                              With love and kisses,

                                    Richard

                              (aka "Snow White"

                               aka the young man in the glass cabinet

                               aka the second disk of mother-of-pearl)

                  THE END (and it really is this time. Honest.)

Post-post script:

      KIDS!!! Making clockwork creatures and using them to attempt to take over the world can be dangerous, and should only be attempted while under the supervision of a trained professional, or other suitable evil genius. Please do not try this at home!!!

*Post-post-post script:

      The management (and especially not the author!) accept no liability for any physical, emotional or psychological damage experienced as a result of reading this story. Readers are warned that they do so at their own risk. All of the above is fictional, and none of the characters were based on or were intended to be representations of real people (except possibly for the President of the United States, but let’s not tell the Secret Service, ok?).

      Filmed in glorious Technicolor, with original score and lyrics by the author, and Richard Wagner. Your mileage may vary. No purchase necessary. Stocks may go up as well as down. Always read the label. Subject to terms and conditions. Thank you for reading the small print, and have a nice day.

SAOS: Chapter Thirty: Epilogue

      So, you want to know what happens next then? Well, it'll all go a little something like this:

      The press will fall over themselves to convince everyone that Mr Cuckoo's announcement was a complete hoax, though they'll never manage to produce a perpetrator. The President of the United States will have a "heart attack" a few days later and will retire on the grounds of ill health.

      The Chinese restaurant, Scarlet Town will be shut down due to health code violations. The building will be reopened as a high class pet grooming establishment, which acts as a front for the Agency. Seeing as it's so conveniently situated, complete with underground hidden lair, the Agency will move its New York branch of operations there completely.

      Our heroes will discover that there are a huge pile of Agency operatives waiting for them, who will take Sam and Jeremy off their hands and send them home (not by first class though).

      Jeremy will be thoroughly debriefed, and then offered a job with the Agency's special equipment department. He will accept in gratitude, but will always be watched very carefully. Sam will have several meetings with an eminent canine psychologist, who will conclude that the effects of his possession are not permanent, and caused no lasting damage, except for perhaps making him slightly more intelligent than the average dog. She recommends that he be allowed go home as her tests have shown beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was coerced and really, truly is a good dog.

      It will take Spud several days and sixteen cans of white spirit to get the mime makeup off his face. His mother will be very pleased that he's finally cut his hair.

      Spud will make his report, which'll be written in runny ink on the back of a paper napkin from the in-flight meal. The front of the napkin will have some mushed banana sticking to it. He will get bawled out for sheer stupidity on any number of occasions, as well as failing to report in immediately he suspected a double agent in the Agency. And he'll also be given a medal and a promotion, but not a pay rise. He'll sulk about this for weeks.

      Spud will also develop an ingrown toenail, but will get it sorted out before it becomes fatal, after much nagging from Nics.

      Nics and Chas will go back to their lives, which will be as normal as they can be considering that she's a clockwork woman, and he's the reincarnation of a female spy. Nics will still have her phobia of mice, but both will show a healthy respect for ducks. The Agency will try to recruit them, but will be told in no uncertain terms to get stuffed.

      It will take both a few weeks to stop flinching every time they hear "The Ride of the Valkeries". Or see a clock.

      They will pay another visit to Sven Jorgensson, the silversmith, and thank him for the pendant that saved Nics' life. Sven will pat her kindly on the hand and pretend to know nothing at all about what she's talking about. They will also sit happily through the mice's new medley of Broadway show tunes. Chas will show especial appreciation for the one mouse who does a solo of "Fly me to the Moon", awarding him with a standing ovation and a large block of cheddar.

      Mr J. Bradford, the not-quite-deceased will pass away quietly in his sleep a few weeks after Mr Cuckoo's death. His funeral will be attended by his grieving family, a few friends and Agency operatives and Chas, Nics and Spud, who mainly are there to be absolutely certain that he is really dead (though they don't say this to any of the grieving family). The dog, Sam, newly adorned with a plain brown collar and silver name tag, will piss up the back of Mr Bradford's tombstone when no one is looking.

      No one will hear or see anything of the clockwork woman, Barbra Allen, or her golden lion or tarantula for a very long time.

      Nics' brother, the young man Richard stays with them for a little while, then strikes out on his own. But that's a different story. Nics' challenges her parents and discovers that yes, she was adopted. They have no idea of her special nature though. She will leave it that way.

      And one clear winter's morning, after a frosty night, Chas and Nics will be walking across the park near their home. And they'll watch a very smug duck paddle gently across the pond and off into the sunrise.

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Nine: Cuckoo's End, or, What Have I Told You About Playing With Fire?

      From the relative safety of the hole in the lab wall, the mouse with the disk of mother-of-pearl in its mouth watched as the Valkerie climbed to the very top of the back wall of the laboratory. Of course, there were no steps up to the ceiling, but that didn't stop her. She simply rammed each giant foot into the brick and concrete to make her own steps.

      The mouse twitched its whiskers anxiously as she lifted the giant hand still holding Spud and Chas, and drew it back to punch her way out through the ceiling. Once through it, she'd be free to roam unchecked through the city of New York, maybe even climbing a tall building or two, causing chaos.

      Some of the concrete dust trickled down to Nics' nose. At exactly the same moment as the Valkerie was about to connect with the ceiling, smashing Spud and Chas into a bloody pulp with the impact, Nics sneezed. And the roof exploded inward.

      The orchestra hidden behind the scenes burst into the full blown version of "the Ride of the Valkeries" drowning out the tinny music box tune that accompanied the robot wherever she went. And in time with the music, a squadron of highly trained attack ducks came flying through the ceiling and into the lab.

      There was no time at all to think before the attack ducks dropped a nasty surprise. Squadrons of parachuting mice got dropped from each duck, landing quickly and swarming over the clockwork dragons. At the same time a highly trained group of stealth rabbits shoved a very large, very slippery banana skin under the outstretched hand of the Valkerie as she reached for her next handhold.

      There was one single moment when the Valkerie's head eclipsed the sun as it shone directly into the cavernous lab below. Then her grip slipped, and frighteningly slowly she tumbled backwards into the lab. The two men in her grasp screamed, or at least the mouse assumed they did. It was a bit hard to hear over the noise of the orchestra.

      She landed hard on top of the pile of lab benches and tables that Nics had climbed up to reach the man in the glass case, and flattened them. Mice and ducks scattered out from underneath her, escaping. But many of the clockwork dragons weren't so lucky.

      Thinking quickly, Nics grabbed the body of the young man, and shoved him out of the way of the fight. He slid across the floor until he came to a stop, conveniently near the mouse hole, and the mouse with the second disk of mother of pearl.

      Jeremy was cowering in a corner, surrounded by ducks. Barbra and her lion were ignoring the ruckus, and were carefully picking up every last piece of the shattered tarantula.

      Mr Cuckoo was in shock completely, his hard metal eyes bugging out, and his skin pale as death. He lifted his head and yelled:

      "My creations, help me!"

      The red gem on Nics collar flashed, and she walked towards him, heedless of any of the mice or ducks in the way. Nics herself was near-catatonic in a state of total denial, muttering to herself:

      "Mice - no - no mice, no mice at all. It's all a bad dream!"

      She flinched as one ran over her foot, and started hyperventilating.

      A mouse suddenly shot out of the hidden orchestra pit, accompanied by a loud and totally out of key tuba blast. The orchestral music dissolved into cacophony and screams, before subsiding completely.

      The Valkerie's grasp had been loosened by the fall, enough so that Spud and Chas could scramble out. Chas dashed across her face to freedom, Spud tried the same, but was too slow. Her massive mouth opened underneath him and he fell into it. It snapped shut around him. Spud had been swallowed.

      The Valkerie heard Mr Cuckoo's command, and rose to a sitting position. She turned her head to look at her master, slowly, twitched and stopped.

      "Valkerie!" Mr Cuckoo screamed at her. "Come here!!!"

      She made one final twitch, and then there was nothing. It was like she was a bizarre form of modern art, rather than the working creature she'd been a few moments before.

      Mr Cuckoo gnashed his teeth in rage and swore at the mice and ducks around him. His golden clockwork dragons were being well and truly trashed by the mice and ducks (with the help of some of the stealth rabbits) and he himself was being steadily pushed away any points of escape, to the very centre of the lab.

      Nics and Barbra reached him. Sam, the gold tag on his collar flashing in the light had been snapping and growling at the mice. They'd been keeping a safe distance from him, but they still had him surrounded.

      At Mr Cuckoo's call, he looked up, and backing up a few paces he took a running jump over the ring of mice that held him prisoner. Only to be rugby tackled out of the air by Chas and knocked to the ground again.

      Sam growled, and struggled, and bit Chas hard on the arm. But while he was hanging on, Chas managed to use the other hand to tear the collar from around the dog's neck.

      The effect of this was immediate. Sam dropped Chas' arm instantly, and bowed down low on the floor, whimpering and showing his tummy. The red gem on the dog tag still flashed as Chas dropped it on the concrete floor and smashed it under one heel.

      He reached down and petted Sam gently. Sam wagged his tail hopefully.

      "It's alright," said Chas. "I know it wasn't your fault. Now, off you go, and keep an eye on Jeremy."

      Sam wagged his tail again, and did what he was told. Not that Jeremy needed much watching.

      Mr Cuckoo, along with Nics and Barbra, stood in the centre of the lab, ringed by ducks and mice. All the other fighting was pretty much over now, but Mr Cuckoo still had one trick left up his sleeve.

      He flicked a switch in one massive clockwork arm and a flamethrower rose out from his forearm. He cackled maniacally as a bar of flame spurted out from it and washed over the ground in front of him.

      The mice and ducks took a hurried few steps back.

      "Come now," he told the two clockwork women. "Time to leave. We'll return to fight another day."

      He started walking for the door, periodically sweeping the ground in front of him with the flame to ensure a free path.

      Nics had stopped panicking quite so much now the mice were all at a safe distance. And she knew what she had to do.

      "Mr Cuckoo?" she said, stopping.

      "Come on!" he yelled at her. The gem in her collar flashed.

      He turned his back to her as she took the few steps she needed to catch up. At the same time she reached up and grabbed the red jewel in the gold collar and calmly crushed it between thumb and forefinger.

      Barbra had been walking next to her, and had seen every movement. But her blank impassive face didn't betray a thing.

      Nics reached one hand up and put it on Mr Cuckoo's shoulder. He stopped, shocked that anyone would touch him, and swung around to face her.

      His turn around worked neatly with the swing of her fist. Her blow caught him squarely on the jaw and sent him flying across the lab into a pile of strange machine parts, that fell on him, burying him completely.

      "Ain't free will a bitch?" Nics asked the pile of junk.

      Chas reached her, and swept her into a congratulatory hug.

      "Looks like you cleaned his clock good and proper, babes," he said grinning widely.  "So, what now?"

      "Guess we'd better take care of Barbra somehow," Nics said, turning to look at the woman. "And see if we can get Spud out of the Valkerie."

      Barbra simply stood where she'd stopped, doing a damn good impression of a clockwork toy that had run down. Mice ran all over her, but she didn't move at all.

      Nics looked queasy, and away.

      The orchestra were being shepherded out of their pit by a squadron of ducks. Some of the female players (and some of the male too) were looking quite shaken. They all carried their instruments with them, including the piano player, who had his baby grand piano carefully packed away in a hard black case with wheels and a handle.

      Several members were dressed in very shiny, very brightly coloured zoot suits. Nics gave in to temptation and shot a trombonist in a red suit a very dirty look indeed. He saw it and shuffled his feet, looking embarrassed.

      Every few minutes, their mission accomplished, a squad of attack ducks with their cargo of parachuting mice would take off and fly up out of the hole in the ceiling and away. Soon they were all gone.

      They very kindly had left Jeremy, Barbra and Sam tied up neatly in the corner. Barbra was pretty much cocooned in thick chain. The other two were tied up without that much worry about their ability to break free.

     

      There was a yelling and a muffled clanging sound coming from the Valkerie's head. Chas climbed up her front with a torch in his mouth, carefully avoiding the spiky bits of her breastplate, and taking a crowbar, levered open her mouth.

      Inside was Spud, blinking as Chas shone the light from the torch into his face.

      "Um," he said. "Can you get me out of here?"

      Chas squinted at him. "Are you stuck or something?" he asked, because he could see that Spud's arms and legs were free.

      "My dreadlocks," explained Spud. "They're caught in something."

      Chas climbed in.

      "Looks like we're going to have to cut you out," he said.

      "Noooo!" wailed Spud. "I've been growing those dreads for years!"

      "Well," said Chas, climbing down again to fetch a pair of shears or something. "You could just stay there."

      His head ducked down and he vanished from Spud's view.

      "No!" cried Spud. "Don't leave me here!"

      It took a lot of cursing and banging inside the Valkerie's metal mouth before Spud was free. He sighed with relief as he climbed down.

      "Her breath didn't half smell, did it?" he said to Chas.

      The mouse with the second mother-of-pearl disk had ventured out from its hiding place and carefully put the disk on the body of the young man.

      "Thanks for looking after that, mate," Chas told the mouse. "I seriously owe you, lots."

      The mouse twitched its whiskers and squeaked, almost as if to say "oh, think nothing of it". But it looked very pleased.

      Nics cautiously shuffled towards Chas, and the young man's body, and the mouse. The collar made of gold cog wheels hung limp from her right hand.

      "I am so going to enjoy watching this melt," she said, waving it at Chas.

      Chas picked up the mother-of-pearl disk, and held it up to the light. It was still flawless, for all its adventures.

      "Whaddya reckon?" he asked Nics, and Spud, who'd just joined them.

      "Give him his soul," said Nics. "It's what Jeremiah wanted."

      Chas knelt by the young man's head, and carefully opened his mouth, placing the disk on his tongue like the host in the Catholic mass. Gently he closed the man's mouth again and stood back.

      The young man's eyes blinked open, and he sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

      "Thanks folks," he said. "God, my head doesn't half hurt. And as for the rest of my body..."

      He trailed off and Nics interjected:

      "Er, hi. I'm Nics, this is Chas and this is..."

      "Spud," the young man interrupted. "Yes, I know, I've been travelling around with you for the past few days, remember?"

      "What, you remember?" asked Spud incredulously. "How can you remember?"

      "Don't know," the young man said, as the pile of machine parts that buried Mr Cuckoo shifted slightly. "I just do. And let me tell you, spending forty years at the bottom of the sea was not fun at all!"

      He stuck out a hand.

      "I'm Richard, by the way."

      Solemnly Chas shook it.

      "Thanks for finding me," Richard continued. "If it had been anyone else but you..." he trailed off.

      Chas looked uncomfortable. Thankfully, from his point of view anyway, the mouse squeaked a warning as the pile of machine parts shifted again, and from underneath it all a metal hand pushed through.

      The hand was shortly followed by the body of Mr Cuckoo, bleeding badly from a nasty gash to the scalp. He pulled himself free of the wreckage, and staggered the few steps that he needed to put himself directly in front of our heroes.

      He waved the arm with the flamethrower on it at them menacingly.

      "I am so going to enjoy toasting you all!" he said, his voice slurred and his feet unsteady.

      Richard noticed that, somewhat incongruously, there was a nut balanced on Mr Cuckoo's shoulder.

      Mr Cuckoo lifted up the arm with the flame thrower and twiddled with it slightly. A flare of fire spurted out of it, nearly taking his eyebrows off.

      The flare made Spud jump, raising a thick cloud of the concrete dust that covered everything in the room. Just enough of it reached Nics' nose to make her sneeze.

      The nut dropped from Mr Cuckoo's shoulder, straight down the barrel of his flamethrower. He dropped his arm immediately and tried to shake it out, but it was well and truly stuck.

      The group in front of him grabbed the opportunity and dove for cover. Mr Cuckoo barely noticed them go, he was too busy staring down the barrel of his flamethrower.

      His arm was getting very hot, he shook it frantically, looking around for some tool that might help him.

      "Barbra!" he called, and her eyes snapped open. "Help me!"

      Casually she stood up and snapped the chains she'd been bound in as if they were threads. She walked towards him, and stopped in front of him, just looking at him.

      The end of his arm was glowing cherry red, and steam was rising from his body.

      "Help me, damn you!" he ordered her.

      She looked at him for another long moment, her face unreadable. Then, finally, when the glow in his arm had spread to the rest of his body, she said, very quietly:

      "No."

      Mr Cuckoo screamed in rage and dove for her, but she sidestepped him easily. He fell to the floor and lay there twitching as his horrible metal body started to melt into a puddle around him.

      His dying was mercifully swift. His last words?

      "Sic transit gloria mundi."

      "What did he say?" Nics asked.

      "Something about a woman called Gloria getting sick in a transit van on Monday," explained Spud.

      Chas caught Richard's eye and just about managed to avoid sniggering.

      Barbra watched Mr Cuckoo just long enough to be sure that he was dead, then, with her golden lion on her shoulder, she bent her knees and jumped straight through the hole in the ceiling, far far above.

      Spud ran after her, but he had no chance of catching her. She was gone

      "I have this horrible feeling that we've not seen the last of her," he said gloomily.

      Nics looked like she was going to be very sick indeed.

      "What a horrible way to go," she said, looking down at the remains of Mr Cuckoo.

      "Could have been worse," said Spud. "He could have regaled us with a dying aria."

      Nics shuddered. So did Chas and Richard. 

      "You're right," said Richard. "So, what now?"

      "Get out of here before the cops show up," said Chas, ever practical. "And I suppose we'd better bring Sam and Jeremy back to London with us, though I've no idea how we're going to manage that."

      "Ah, don't worry about that," Spud said. "I'm sure the Agency will sort something out."

      A different thought crossed his mind.

      "Damn! I am going to have so much paperwork to sort out after this one!"

      He kicked at a piece of clockwork dragon moodily, and sent it skittering across the floor.

      As they left the secret lair of Mr Cuckoo, Chas turned to Nics and said:

      "Hey babes?"

      "Yeah?" she replied.

      "I really think you should get something for that cold."

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Eight: Peoples Of Earth Your Attention Please!

      From behind one of the random clockwork machines against the walls of the lab, a hitherto unnoticed, very large door swung open.

      There was a whirr-clunk, whirr-clunk, whirr-clunk, and more; the sound of giant clockwork footsteps. Along with this noise came a very tinny music box rendition of "The Ride of the Valkeries".

      "I was going to save her for later," said Mr Cuckoo conversationally. "But now is as good a time as any to introduce Plan B."

      Our three heroes looked on in awe, and not a little fear as a thing walked out of the opened door. It had to bend almost double to get under the doorframe.

      It was a giant clockwork woman, patterned after the traditional stereotype of the big blonde Valkerie. She even came complete with a pair of long blonde braids and a horned helmet, all fashioned out of gleaming brass.

      She stomped up to Mr Cuckoo and stopped, awaiting further instructions.

      "Isn't she beautiful?" said Mr Cuckoo, reaching up as high as he could to pat one kneecap fondly. "My finest creation..."

      Nics stole a quick glance at Barbra. Barbra's eyes were black and hard with hatred and jealousy. Her clockwork lion crawled closer to her face, as if to comfort her. Her tarantula was nowhere to be seen.

      "Barbra," Mr Cuckoo snapped.

      "Yes, Master?" she asked. If she hadn't been so impassive, it would have been through gritted teeth.

      "Plan B, execute it now."

      "Yes, Master." Stiffly she turned and walked to the other side of the lab, fiddling with something on one of the benches.

      Jeremy was crouched down, looking at the shattered remains of the broken clockwork dragons. He sorted through the pieces, as if trying to find any salvageable parts, then gave up and stood up, dusting his hands. From the angle where Nics stood over the body of the young man, it looked like he'd rearranged the parts into a smiley face.

      As he walked away one foot came down hard on a loose red jewel and smashed it to dust. Nics saw him do it, and a light came into her eyes.

      Sam too was snuffling around the broken pieces of the clockwork dragons. He was getting close to the face, so Nics picked up a nearby large piece of random clockwork and threw it at him. It missed, but landed in the centre of the face, turning it from a recognizable pattern into a meaningless collection of junk once more.

      The dog growled at her, and she stared back at it, like a sheriff waiting for the outlaw to draw first.

      "Come any closer and I'll kick you. Try and bite me, and I'll break your teeth," she told him, levelly, adding "you traitorous cur" for good measure.

      "Now, now," said Mr Cuckoo. "There's no call for that. Apologise."

      The red gem on her collar flashed, and she forced the words out between gritted teeth.

      "I'm sorry, Sam."

      The contraption that Barbra was poking let out an almighty shrill whistle, which was cut off abruptly by the liberal application of a large wrench.

      "Message sent," she told Mr Cuckoo, who was still patting the knee of his valkerie lovingly.

      Spud and Chas had been having a quick conversation behind their bit of machinery, along the lines of:

      "Oh shit! Now what?"

      "You try and grab Nics, get that collar off somehow. I'll grab Cuckoo, once we've figured out what else plan B is," whispered Chas.

      "What else could it be?!” gibbered Spud. “As if we didn’t have enough to deal with, what with the Valkerie and Jeremy and Barbra and the dragons and lion and tarantula!"

      "Worry about them later!" hissed Chas. "Ready? Let's..."

      But before he could finish, the machine that they were hiding behind got lifted up from above as easily as if it was made out of sticky backed plastic and yoghurt pots.

      Chas and Spud didn't even have time to curse as the Valkerie grabbed both of them in one giant fist and carried them back to the centre of the lab.

      "So glad you could join us, dear boys," Mr Cuckoo told them. "You're just in time for a rather interesting announcement.

      Sure enough, the CCTV camera footage on the screens had changed, and was displaying a popular news channel with the sound off. For some reason they were showing pictures of pink plastic flamingos, but that was quickly cut off by a newsflash sign.

      Mr Cuckoo turned the sound up as the familiar face of the United States president appeared on the screen.

      "My fellow Americans!" he proclaimed loudly, as if he wasn't expecting that everyone would be able to hear him by way of the TV, and so had to compensate with added volume.

      "Today marks a historic and monumentalastic occasion for our nation. For today is the day when I can finally reveal myself and my true master, Mr Cuckoo. Effective immediately, all powers, rights and privileges of the presidency of the United States are his in perpetuity and forever. Congress and the Senate will move into a period of disbandization and Mr Cuckoo will rule our great and glorious country from the position of dictator for life.

      "I personally welcome him to the helm of our country, knowing that he will exceed all expectations in the role and work tirelessly to improve the glorificationization of our land. God bless America."

      The rather stunned looking newsreader put one hand up to her ear.

      "And, yes, we have managed to get in contact with the new leader of the United States, Mr Cuckoo."

      A small picture appeared in the corner of the TV screen. It showed an extreme close-up of Mr Cuckoo's face, smiling benignly.

      Chas looked down. The picture was coming from five of the dragons that were struggling to hold a full size video camera steady.

      "Mr Cuckoo," said the newsreader. "Please let me be first to congratulate you on your ascension to the presidency. But I'm sure that there are many people out there who are stunned by this sudden turn of events, and a lot more who will view this as completely irregular. Some may even be prepared to take drastic action. What are your views on this?"

      "Well," said Mr Cuckoo, "I appreciate that it will take time for people to get used to my rule, but I intend to make it as comfortable a changeover as possible. For instance, even though I am ruler of the United States for life, I don't expect the average citizen to start calling me master immediately, only within the first half hour or so. And I understand that this country has a number of fine citizens who will resist my appointment, but I will let them know now: Anyone who tried to overthrow or resist my absolute rule will be hunted down and killed in a very messy, painful and public manner."

      He smiled reassuringly.

      "But let me assure you, life in Cuckooland will be smooth and happy for those who agree to be bound by my every whim."

      "I'm sorry," said the newsreader. "Cuckooland?"

      "The name for our country, of course," he replied.

      "Thank you very much, Mr Cuck... er, Master," said the newsreader, visibly flustered. "News is just coming in of the reaction on the streets to this sudden announcement."

      Mr Cuckoo interrupted her, and said, almost offhandedly:

      "Oh, before people jump to the conclusion that I'm just a random madman with no method of backing up my claim, let me reassure them. I'm a very focussed madman, and proof of my genius will shortly be terrorising downtown New York City. Have a pleasant afternoon."

      One hand flicked, and the dragons dropped the TV camera onto the floor, breaking it. The little screen within a screen on the TV newscast fizzled into snow and the newsreader carried on.

      "Our roving reporter Mick Fillip is interviewing people on the streets at the moment. Over to you, Mick."

      The volume was muted as the newscast cut to a rather scruffy looking man holding a microphone. It was raining outside.

      Mr Cuckoo turned to his Valkerie and told her:

      "Activate plan delta."

      She spun on one giant heel and walked towards the back of the lab, still clutching Chas and Spud in one fist.

      "No!" cried Nics. "Chas! Spud! What are you going to do with them?!"

      "Shake them until the second disk comes out. Then throw them in the river," ordered Mr Cuckoo.

      There was a quiet crunch as the Valkerie took another step forward, and then stopped. Slowly and carefully she transferred Chas from one hand to the other. Then taking both lads, she dropped them both, caught them by the legs before they could bash their heads out on the ground and shook them vigorously.

      Nics didn't even have time to scream as she saw them fall, then get caught again.

      Onto the ground beneath them fell a vast array of stuff. From Spud's pockets fell half a dozen different lighters, a squashed banana, a half eaten Mars bar, a card for a pizza delivery firm, a few coins, a set of keys, a pencil, three pens, four shopping lists and a lock pick. By contrast Chas only dropped a wallet and a set of keys.

      The valkerie shook them both again, harder this time. Spud moaned:

      "I'm going to lose my teeth!"

      At that same moment, the second mother-of-pearl disk was finally dislodged from Chas' pocket and fell towards the pile of stuff on the floor.

      There was a brown streak across the concrete, and before the disk could hit the ground it was grabbed from the air by a mouse, which darted across the lab and into a hole in the wall.

      Sam was after it, barking gleefully, but didn't manage to catch so much as a whisker.

      Mission accomplished the Valkerie put the two men, still upside down, back in one hand. Slowly and methodically she began to climb up the wall.

      Behind her, Barbra walked over to the pile of junk that had fallen from Spud's pockets. There was just the faintest hitch in her stride when she saw the crushed remains of her gold clockwork tarantula, pulverised underneath the Valkerie's massive foot.

SAOS: Chapter Twenty Seven: What Spud's Do Best

      "Well?" Chas asked Jeremy coldly. "You heard the evil genius. It was him who killed your grandfather, not me. And you've heard his plans. You're living, you're human, there's no way you're going to be spared. What are you going to do about it?"

      Jeremy just stood there, looking shell-shocked. Behind him the machine with the big red button intoned:

      "There is one hour and twenty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      "God, I am so going to enjoy melting that machine down for scrap," said Spud.

      Footsteps sounded behind Jeremy, and he turned around to see Barbra and her two clockwork pets walking towards him.

      "I don't know what you're talking about," he said to Chas.

      Barbra said: "The Master wishes your assistance with some repair work."

      "I-I-I-I'm on my way," he stuttered. And walking like someone who's only the tiniest bit aware of his surroundings he staggered out the door.

      Barbra stood and watched the group with unnerving stillness.

      "Chas," whispered Nics. "Are you alright?"

      "What do you mean?" he asked.

      "Only, you said that you didn't kill Jeremy's grandfather..." she said.

      "Oh," Chas said. "Slip of the tongue."

      "But it's the second or third time you've said something like that. Are you alright?" Nics pressed.

      "Yes," he said, with a strange little smile. "I've just remembered a few things, that's all."

      Spud was looking up at the young man encased in glass.

      "Do you think he'd help if we got him out of there?" he asked.

      "No," said Barbra, stepping closer to the group. "He wouldn't."

      Nics looked at her closely for a long moment.

      "You, you're special, aren't you?"

      Barbra looked back, eyes unblinking, making no pretence at being human.

      "Oh, that robot look doesn't fool me in the slightest," said Nics, glaring at her. "You're more than you're letting on, and you know it. You've gone and done by yourself what was given to me. You've found a soul."

      Barbra smiled, and it was horrible. It looked like her face was cracking.

      "Prove it," she said.

      "Oh, I will," said Nics. "But even if I don't, how long do you think it'll take before Mr Cuckoo notices? And once he does, once he finds out you've got free will, how long is it going to be after that before he destroys you, or puts you in one of these damn collars? How long?"

      Barbra's voice was very calm and very very cold.

      "Cuckoo's a fool. A genius, but a fool. And he's very easy to control."

      She turned and took a few steps away, then stopped.

      "If you don't like your collar, have a thought for the one the dog is wearing," she said, and walked out with another word.

      "Hey, look, there's our house," said Spud as she stepped out the door. He'd been watching the CCTV camera footage on the big screen with the avid interest of a hardened couch potato.

      "Nice one babes," said Chas to Nics. "Now, let's get planning. What are our assets?"

      Spud didn't take his eyes from the screens. "You, me, Nics, some greasepaint and an empty pizza box. Oh, and a spare soul, though I've no idea how that could help."

      "You can't rely on me," said Nics. "Not with the collar on me."

      "So we figure out a way of getting the collar off," said Chas.

      "And off Sam too," she added. "He's as much a victim and forced into this as I am."

      "Alright, and Sam too," agreed Chas. “Even if he is a miserable fleabag.”

      They sat in silence for a while, thinking.

      "I don't suppose the Agency can help?" Nics asked Spud hopefully.

      Spud sighed and shook his head. "Nope, that was the message. I've got to deal with it. The Agency are bringing in the cavalry, but it's not going to happen in enough time to help."

      Nics sighed, and went back to pulling at the gold choker. This meant that she nearly ended up choking herself on it when the mouse that had been hiding in Chas’ breast pocket popped up and squeaked.

      "Sorry mate," Chas told it. "I was kind of keeping you as our secret weapon. No slight intended."

      Nics shuffled as far away from the mouse as she possibly could, right to the edge of the circle of golden clockwork dragons that stood guard around them. The mouse looked at her, twitched its whiskers and ran straight for her, squeaking wildly.

      She screamed and ran away from it, her feet stomping straight down onto one of the golden dragons. Quick as a flash there were dozens of them crawling all over her and she was screaming, and screaming and trying to pull them off herself.

      "Now!" yelled Chas, and launched himself at the thinned line of dragons. He caught one as it jumped at him and threw it across the room, crushing another under his feet. And he was out of the ring and causing carnage.

      Spud followed him, wielding the grease laden empty pizza box like a very soggy club. The mouse ran straight past Nics and disappeared behind some serious machinery.

      There followed a very short but very intense fight, with golden cogwheels and a not inconsiderable amount of blood from all concerned flying everywhere. But in the end Chas and Spud stood battered but unbowed in the centre of a battlefield made of clockwork pieces. Spud still clutched the shreds of cardboard that were all that remained of the battered pizza box.

      Nics hadn't wasted any time once she'd been freed from the crawling mass of dragons. She was straight over to the workbenches looking for anything that could be used to cut the control collar from her neck.

      She pulled a huge pair of long handled pliers from a pile of weird and unusual tools and took them over to Chas.

      "Get this damn thing off me now," she told him.

      He looked at her, and then at the pliers, and started chewing his lip.

      Spud had approached the machine with the big red button on it. He looked at it for a moment, crouching down to see underneath it, trying to get a grasp of how the thing worked. But, as far as he could see, there was no way into it; it was a completely sealed, featureless box, with only the big red button and LED display on it.

      So he did the only thing he could think of. He pressed the big red button.

      The disembodied voice of the machine said:

      "Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now one hour left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      "One hour!" Spud cried. "I thought we had more time than that!"

      And he hit the button again, three times. To get the disembodied voice saying again:

      "Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now fifty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day. Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now forty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day. Thank you for pressing the big red button. There is now thirty minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      Chas and Nics both lunged for him yelling:

      "Spud! Don't press the Goddamn button!!!"

      Spud, having realised what he'd just done, stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to look innocent.

      "Alright," said Chas, trying to stay cool. "Less time now."

      He took another look at the pliers in his hands, and a closer look at the gold collar around Nics' neck and shook his head.

      "Sorry babes," he said, dropping his hands. "If I try to cut through it I'll just end up cutting your throat."

      Nics swore, on the edge of furious tears once more. She took the pliers from his hands and wound up and threw them.

      They sailed though the air and hit the glass case surrounding the young man. A large crack jagged crazily across the surface of the glass.

      Nics looked at it a moment, then said:

      "You guys break that machine. I'm going to get him out of there."

      She started dragging lab benches over so she could use them to climb up.

      Chas went over to have a look at the machine.

      "There's no way in," said Spud. “And I don't think it has an off switch."

      "This is a workshop," said Chas to him. "There's got to be a tin opener in here somewhere."

      Spud scurried off to look, and came back in no time at all armed with a sledgehammer, a blowtorch, an axe, a band saw, an electric cordless drill and a stack of sandpaper.

      "Sandpaper?" Chas asked him.

      "First thing I saw," said Spud, dropping all but the blowtorch. He fired it up gleefully and went to work on the casing of the machine. Chas picked up the cordless drill and went to work as well.

      A few minutes later, and the only sign of their efforts was in the slight scorch marks on the casing and a few scratches. The drill bit was well and truly worn down to nothing.

      "Blowtorch is out of fuel," said Spud, shaking it and looking glum.

      He aimed a kick at the machine case. "How the hell do we get into this thing?"

      "Dunno," said Chas. "But it's really inconsiderate of Cuckoo. Most evil geniuses at least have a fairly obvious off switch built into their doomsday devices."

      "Yeah, but neither of us is James Bond remember?" Spud reminded him.

      Chas snorted.

      Nics had made her way onto the top of a rather precarious pile of benches and had reached level with the glass case and the young man inside it. Shielding her eyes with one arm, she swung the hammer she held in her other hand as hard as she could against the glass.

      It shattered, sending pieces flying everywhere. With great care she reached in and undid the straps that held the young man in place, putting him over one shoulder in a fireman's carry, and climbing down again.

      On the screen behind her were images from a darkly lit theatre. A woman in a white dress with red boots was talking to a woman in a red dress with white boots. Both wore masks made of duck feathers.

      Spud and Chas looked at the machine, and looked at each other.

      "There is fifteen minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      Three mice ran up the side of the machine, and, defying gravity, across the shiny glass plate of the LED countdown.

      "Oh look," said Spud. "Your mouse friend has brought some friends."

      The mouse looked at Spud like he was the least intelligent life form on the planet, and ran across the LED plate again, this time squeaking pointedly.

      "Of course," breathed Spud in tones of profound realization, "the glass of the countdown display."

      Chas simply picked up the sledgehammer and hefted it. The mice quickly got off the machine and retreated to a safe distance as he swung the sledgehammer at the display.

      It popped out of its frame very neatly indeed. The two lads peered in, looking into a maze of belts, chains, clockwork pieces and cogs.

      "So, which wire do we cut then?" asked Chas. "Spud? You're the expert."

      Spud glared at him. "It may surprise you to hear this, but they don't exactly teach a course in how to disarm clocks in the Agency. Bombs, yes, clocks no."

      "Well, if we can't disarm it, let's break it then," said Chas, sticking the head of the sledgehammer through the gap and wiggling it around, totally failing to cause any damage to the machine's innards at all.

      "Step aside," said Spud grandly. "Breaking things is what Spud's do best."

      He reached inside the machine and grabbed something and pulled. No result. He tried again, this time using a pair of pliers. No result. He chucked the empty blowtorch, the dead cordless drill, the pile of sandpaper, seventeen screwdrivers and a glass beaker into the machine in the hopes that it would jam.

      "There is ten minutes left before activation and the end of all life on Earth. Have a nice day."

      "What Spud's do best, eh?" said Chas, one eyebrow arched. "No rush. Take your time..."

      Scowling in frustration Spud thrust the greasy pizza box inside the machine. And smiled as he thought of something.

      "Fire," he said. "Where the hell did I put my lighter?"

      "You keep losing it, remember?" said Chas, just as Spud pulled a lighter out of one pocket. Then another, and another, and another.

      He burped, and pulled a lighter out from his mouth.

      Chas winced. That looked far too unpleasant for words.

      Spud patted himself down, producing lighters from every pocket, from up his sleeves and down his trousers, from behind his ears and even out of his nose. After he'd amassed a huge pile of them he dumped all but a few inside the body of the machine. The remaining few he fiddled with a bit, then consigned them too into the junk pit that was the machine's innards.

      "You might want to stand back a bit," he told Chas as he fiddled with the last lighter.

      Chas dove for cover.

      Spud flicked the lighter on and threw it into the machine and ducked. Nics sneezed at exactly the same moment that an almighty fireball exploded out of the frame where the display had been, melting the big red button and leaving nasty bright afterimages on the eyes. The machine's disembodied voice came from the dirty black smoke that followed the fireball.

      "There is ten... minutes... left... before...  activvv.... wooooopppp..."

      "Did you do it?" asked Nics from where she was bent over the body of the young man. "Have we stopped Mr Cuckoo's infernal plan?"

      The jewel on her collar flashed, and she stood up rigidly. Mr Cuckoo, along with the remnants of his collection of one hundred and one golden clockwork dragons, Jeremy, Sam, Barbra and her clockwork pets had just walked in.

      "I'm afraid not," Mr Cuckoo said to her as Spud dove for cover behind the shell of the doomsday device.

      "I underestimated you. You have delayed me, yes. But you have not come even close to stopping me."

      He lifted one monstrous clockwork hand to reveal an ornate box with a red button prominently placed in the middle of it. He pressed it with one thumb, and laughed loud, long and maniacally.