incident at the border - 40. one year later

by nick nelson

illustrated by konrad kraus and roy dismas

part forty of forty

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it was teresa’s seventeenth birthday, her day to leave mother smith’s home and head out into the world, as joe had done the year before. she had not flipped a coin, as joe had, but had decided on her own to head for the city, rather than the country. as she walked along the highway, she wondered if she would make such a big splash in the world as poor joe had. it did not seem likely! the whole smith family had been astonished the year before when joe had made the lead stories in the nightly news for his heroic role in foiling the attempted kidnaping of two diplomats, lord chandler and mr mahmoud, who had been engaged in arranging the preliminaries of the newest world war. joe had, of course, perished in his exploit, which made his story particularly interesting and sensational. two of the persons who had, like the diplomats, survived the grisly proceedings - the young duke of dent, and a young woman named mary brown - had known enough of joe’s background to give some details of it to the reporters who had flocked to the scene, and these had been picked up in the stories and headlines. pig boy saves world! thanks, pig boy! yokel earns hero’s laurels some reporters found their way to mother smith’s and interviewed mother and the children. one in particular, ms carlotta bligh, who had described herself as “the last of the old time newshounds” spent two whole days at the farm, interviewing everybody and promising to produce “the story of the century”. but interest in joe had quickly passed, as the new war and other events filled the news, and neither carlotta bligh’s nor any of the other stories about the farm ever saw the light of day. life at mother smith’s quickly resumed its normal cycle of days and months. now as teresa walked along, she, like joe the year before, was somewhat surprised by how few people she encountered, and how few vehicles passed by in either direction. she saw a large woman walking about fifty yards ahead of her. the woman had an old-fashioned woven basket on her left arm and teresa wondered what was in it. she wondered if she should try to overtake the woman and attempt to engage her in friendly conversation. teresa thought she felt a few raindrops. but when she looked up there was not a cloud in the sky. the end

incident at the border - 39. a sudden interruption

by nick nelson

illustrated by konrad kraus and roy dismas

part thirty-nine of forty

for previous episode, click here

to begin at the beginning, click here

lord chandler suppressed a sigh. how he dreaded the next few days, with the prospect of a new war to disturb his peaceful existence. what a damned bore mr mahmoud was! and the people he would have to deal with in the next few days as war was declared - or averted, as the case might be - would be even bigger bores, with even less polished manners. how had he allowed himself to be ensnared in this sorry pertubation? and so close - only a few months, from his expected retirement! how he wished he were anywhere but where he was! how he wished he were anybody but who he was! perhaps, lord chandler mused, some kindly souls , or desperate anarchists, will break into mrs foster’s house tonight and carry me away. carry me away anywhere, so long as i do not have to deal with the likes of mr mahmoud! he smiled inwardly at his daydreams. what was there to do but soldier on? as lord chandler thought his thoughts, mrs foster was engaging the attention of mr mahmoud with her superlative brand of idle chatter. that, at least, was something to be grateful for. further down the table, mary was continuing her disquisition on the early history of humankind. “and in the empire of mu, on the other side of the earth, developments similar to those in atlantis proceeded. in atlantis the primary cause was the desire to breed strong male slaves to build a great pyramid in which to bury the great empress sophonisba, rather than to breed them to fight in the arena, but the result was the same. in both atlantis and mu, two oppposing parties formed. in atlantis they were styled the red party and the green party, and in mu the sun party and the moon party, but the issue at debate was the same - whether the increased breeding of powerfully built male slaves rerpesented a threat to the stability of the empires. in both ermpires, the more optimistic side pooh-poohed the idea that men, no matter how physically powerful, could ever develop the brain power, or the ability to organize themselves, to represent any threat to their female superiors. and the other side thought it best not to tempt fate, but to be sure men remained in their inferior state, as nature intended.” mary paused, and took a sip of water. “but this is amazing!” mrs stafford exclaimed. “it explains so much!” “it explains everything!” cried mademoiselle feval. meanwhile, at the other end of the table, the young duke was continuing his friendly chat with joe, warning to his theme of the adventurous life.. “so,” the duke was saying to joe in his most amiable manner, “just because you have never had any great adventures yet does not mean you can not have any. do you know, i think i might have just the thing for you. if you are interested, of course. what do you say?” “i don’t know,” joe replied. “i am a little short of cash right now. i don’t know if i could afford to go any adventure.” “but that is no problem!” the duke exclaimed. “just the opposite! we - uncle and i - can make it well worth your while. now - “ the duke lowered his voice, although none of the other guests had been paying any attention to their conversation - “surely you have noticed the strong resemblance between us - we might as well be twins - “ but at that moment there was a loud crash from the adjoining room. the diners all turned and beheld rogers, the under-butler, standing in the doorway with a sirrowful expression on his face. “i am sorry to interrupt, madam, but something has come up,” rogers addressed mrs foster. behind rogers were three men in dark coats - with pistols in their hands! a large man in the center, obviously the leader, with two confederates, one of whom mrs stafford was mortified to see was mr stafford! he had a hat pulled down over his face, and she hoped that mrs foster and the other guests would not recognize him. the big man was speaking. “i am afraid i am going to have to ask lord chandler and mr mahmoud to come with us. the rest of you just sit tight and you will be as right as raindrops. jem, check them and see if any of them are packing.” “that hardly seems likely,” jeremy drawled. “i know, but you can’t be too careful.” mademoiselle feval turned to the duke, and to joe. “can’t somebody do something?” she asked. 40. one year later

incident at the border - 38. the gamblers

by nick nelson

illustrated by konrad kraus and roy dismas

part thirty-eight of forty

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to begin at the beginning, click here

charles’s “little more private place” was a small 24 hour coffee shop a couple of blocks away from the berkeley bank. There were no customers in the place, and nobody behind the counter, when charles and magnus and johnny entered. after charles called out, a little old man came out from the back and they each bought a cup of coffee. then the little man disappeared, leaving them alone in a booth near the door. charles proceeded to give magnus and johnny a very brief account of his history with the berkeley bank, and then made his proposition to them. “so there you have it,” charles concluded. “what do you think?" “uh - it’s a lot to take in,” magnus told him. “i understand that,” said charles. “but consider the possible payoff. come, gentlemen, you are both gamblers, are you not?” “i gamble sometimes,” magnus agreed. “but i consider myself basically a sage.” “of course, of course,” charles quickly reassured him. “i didn’t mean anything negative by calling you a gambler - just the opposite, ha ha!” charles turned to johnny, who had remained silent and expressionless throughout charles’s spiel. “and how about you, young fellow, what do you think? “ “i’m only a gambler when i need to be, myself,” johnny answered “i’m basically a religious guy.” this surprised charles a little bit but he tried not to show it. he nodded, “i see.” “i’ve spent my whole life thinking about the end of the world and the collapse of civilization,” johnny continued. “so what you say interests me. how sure are you, of what are you telling us?” “pretty sure,” charles said, as confidently as he could. “so why don’t we go over to this place - this bank - right now, and do it.” “it’s probably closed for the night,” charles answered. “probably?” johnny raised his eyebrows. “why don’t we go over and check it out. you say it’s only a couple of blocks away, right?” “he’s right, boomer,” magnus said. “why not check it out now? it seems a fortuitous time of night for such an undertaking. and who knows what tomorrow may bring? and if we can’t get in, we can make other plans." “all right,” charles agreed. “in that case, there is no sense waiting around. let’s get on with it.” they got up and left. 39. a sudden interruption

incident at the border - 37. a brief history

by nick nelson

illustrated by konrad kraus and roy dismas

part thirty-seven of forty

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to begin at the beginning, click here

mrs stafford could hardly wait for the dinner, and the evening, to be over, so that she could start packing, and be ready to slip out of mrs foster’s house at the crack of dawn. on her way to a proper celebration of her freedom - at last! - from mr stafford and all his useless schemes. meanwhile there was the dinner to be gotten through. she did not care how bland the food might be. or how boring the guests at table. she found herself three seats from the hostess’s right, between mrs foster’s daughter angeline, and a young woman she did not know, and who did not look quite comfortable in her clothes, as if they had been provided for her for the dinner. mrs stafford smiled at the unknown young woman. “i do not believe we’ve met.” “i am sure we have not,” mary replied. “this is ms brown, mrs stafford,” mademoiselle feval, the governess, seated on mary’s right, said. “i am relying on her to make the conversation at dinner interesting.” “oh?” mrs stafford replied politely. “and why might that be?” “you will never guess what ms brown is,” mademoiselle feval continued. “i am sure that i can not,” mrs stafford smiled. “she is a feminist! and - she aspires to start her own religion.” “well, one meets persons starting new religions everywhere - but a feminist! that is interesting, ” mrs stafford agreed. “though I am afraid i have forgotten quite what a feminist is - though i am sure i must have learned it at school.” “that is what many people think, and say,” mary smiled back at mrs stafford. “and i think the reason for that is that they are taught that feminism triumphed in the previous centuries and that therefore there is no more need of it. nothing, however, could be further from the truth.” “you do not say so,” mademoiselle feval prompted mary. “i do say so,” mary replied. “the other thing people do not realize is that feminism, so far from being something completely unheard of that suddenly emerged from nowhere in the preceding centuries, has its origins in what is commonly misunderstood as quote prehistory unquote, and is in fact iitself the true prehistory of the human race, or what is left of it, after the ravages of millenia of patriarchy. ” “that sounds like a most interesting theory,” mrs stafford. “you must have done a great deal of research to support it.” “i have indeed. but perhaps the best place to commence my account is not with my own researches, but with the story of matriarchy itself - how it came to be, and how it came to be buried for thousands of years.” “do go on, please,” mademoiselle feval urged. * mademoiselle feval, mrs stafford, and darcy filbertson, seated directly across from mary, listened attentively to mary’s recital. angeline, seated on mrs stafford’s left, also listented to mary with one ear while also listening politely and making an occasional interjection to the small talk between mr mahmoud, on her left, and mrs foster, who sat at the head of the table. lord chandler ignored mrs cream, who in her turn kept up a steady stream of cutural commentary to m chan, who nodded at proper intervals while enjoying his dinner. the young duke, at the foot of the table, conversed with joe, seated directly on his right, in his , the duke’s, friendliest manner. “what do you think of the old pile, eh?” the duke asked joe. “must seen pretty dreary to a young chap like yourself, used to a life of adventure.” joe did not know how to reply. “it’s big,” he finally said. 38. the gamblers

incident at the border - 36. lost

by nick nelson

illustrated by konrad kraus and roy dismas

part thirty-six of forty

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to begin at the beginning, click here

“are you lost, sir? these are the working areas of the staff, and those stairs you seem about to descend are the back stairs.” rogers, the under -butler, smiled pleasantly at mr stafford. mr stafford smiled back at rogers, just as pleasantly. “no, i just wanted a little privacy.” “very good, sir. and you did not find the room provided you had privacy enough?” “not for the purpose i required, no.” rogers nodded. “i see, sir.” “do you not want to know what my purpose is?” “you can tell me if you like, sir.” “i wanted to count my money.” “ah! always a worthwhile endeavor, sir and as you infer, one best done in the most complete privacy.” mr stafford reached into his pocket. “would you like to see how much money i have?” “that is up to you, sir.” “i always carry money - cash - in case i have a sudden desire to contribute to charity.” “i believe charity is recommended by all faiths and philosophies , sir.” “yes. all those that count, anyway. tell me, rogers - i believe that is your name is it not - “ “it is, sir." “do you have a favorite charity?” rogers hesitated before replying. “i have some, sir, but if i may be so bold as to say so, i suspect that something more is involved here than one person's or another’s favorite charity.” “ha, ha! i see you are a sharp fellow, rogers, wth no moss growing between your ears. what then do you think i might be up to? do you think i might wish to rob mrs foster?” “i do not know what you could find it worth your while to rob her of, sir. surely you realize she does not keep any appreciable amount of cash or jewelry in the house. her wine cellar is acceptable at best. nor does she have any so-called priceless works of art on hand. in any case, my limited understanding is that such things are not at all what they used to be.” “very good, rogers, very good. tell me, how would you like to be part of making history ?” rogers raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. “history, sir? “well, the nightly news, at least. as you surely know, two of mrs foster’s guests tonight are lord chandler and m. mahmoud. “ “i am as aware of that as you are, sir.” “i will let you in on a little secret. i am a member of a so-called ‘mob’ which is going to kidnap lord chandler and m mahmoud tonight and perhaps change the course of history. my confederates are speeding towards us even as we speak. what do you think of that, eh” “i must confess such a proceeding might get people’s attention.” “how would you like to bring a little excitement into our life and go in with us? become part of our gang?” “begging your pardon, sir, are you not being a bit presumptuous in assuming my life lacks excitement?” “oh, i meant no offense, i assure you.” just then mr stafford’s phone rang and he hastily took it out of his pocket. “excuse me.” 37. a brief history