I followed Hell to the boardroom. Hell threw himself into his usual canvas camp chair, which he perversely insisted was infinitely more comfortable than the butter-soft leather armchairs that lined the gleaming conference table. I timidly moved towards a corner of the room, but Hell waved me over to his side. I was nervously aware of Professor Masaryk's disapproving glower, but then cheered up when I saw Lady Monica Bigglesworth-Fume scrunch up her eyes and lips in what looked like a smile. Lady Monica was sitting next to Terence Killjoy-Yuck. I shuddered, appalled at the sight of my old Oxford tutor. Instrumental in sending me to Prague in the first place as the fall guy in his covert plots against Xox, what brought this suave vulture to Prague again, lazily flapping in to gorge on fresh bleeding kill? Next to him was a stocky red-haired man with a perpetually pugnacious expression on his bulldog face. I instantly recognized Blodgett Scrotum, England's most notorious conservative philosopher. Scrotum was engaged in conversation with a short balding man with a thick neck and barrel chest, famous Polish dissident turned pornographic journalist, Cain Piknik. The only person at the table I didn't know by sight was a trim man with a shock of white hair and a black suit whose perfect cut made my mouth water. I regretfully recalled that I still hadn't called my mother to beg for money. I needed new clothes badly.
"Right. Let's get started." Hell silenced the quiet chatter as usual with a noisy thump of his walking stick on the conference table. "Got lots to discuss."
"Are we not missing some people, Otto?" Professor Masaryk quavered. "Also I do not recognise the gentleman in black…"
"Gunter Otto Troll," Hell replied. Gott uncrossed his folded arms and waved a hand. I nodded approvingly at his daring pink tie. "He has taken over the European Studies department."
"But where is our colleague Attila Ugh? I do not like him but surely he should be here for a meeting of the University's trustees."
"Ugh has resigned." A quiet wave of shock rocked the room. "As some of you may know, Xox was held captive in the Budapest College last week until my special assistant here freed him, using some rather unorthodox means."
"Always this boy causes trouble!" Professor Masaryk shook his fist at me.
"This intervention has somewhat precipitated matters," Hell continued. "Ugh and his cronies have come out in their true colours. The Budapest College has seceded from the University of Truth and Justice." Hell raised an embossed parchment. "They have formed their own University of Ruthless Justice and declared war on us."
"The Warsaw College has received an invitation to join this new university," Piknik confirmed. "Budapest has offered us West Slovakia and Northern Bohemia if we join them. I am here to hear your counter-offer."
"Two billion dollars for the Warsaw College and the majority share in Playtoy magazine for you," Hell replied briefly. "Take it or leave it."
"Done," Piknik replied, settling back comfortably in his chair. His small eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Real estate is the most over-rated investment."
"I always said Ugh was a megalomaniac," Masaryk declared with satisfaction. "He was never content with being merely the Director of the Budapest College. He always wanted to be university rector…"
"Actually, they have appointed a new rector. Albert Lumpkin."
"Bert Lumpkin?" Troll asked incredulously. "I thought he was in Paraguay with all the other Nazis."
"Apparently not." Hell sighed and rubbed his eyes. In that moment, he looked old and vulnerable. "I take this personally," he explained. "Lumpkin was a student of mine at Chicago. Took my game theory course along with Troll here and Xox. But Lumpkin always played dirty. Failed him for cheating. He became a strategist for the U.S. Defense Department during the Vietnam war. Worked for Kissinger for a while, then headed down to South America and became cozy with all the dictators. Military advisor to the most repressive military regimes on the continent. Excellent strategist. Eminence grise behind Somoza, Stroessner, Tourniquet…
"Tourniquet!" Blodgett Scrotum said indignantly. "Lord Hades, I must protest your description of that noble man. The Generalissimo is a hero in the cause of freedom."
"Lady Snatcher has just awarded Generalissimo Tourniquet the very first Gold Medal of the Snatcher Foundation," Terence confirmed.
"If Ugh is allied to Lumpkin who used to work for Tourniquet, then my allegiances are clear," Scrotum declared confusingly. "I have no choice but to secede as well. Monica, come!"
"Sorry, Blodgett," Lady Monica replied regretfully. "Free enterprise is all very well but I draw the line at torture."
"But Monica, my dear, ordinary people do not always know what is in their own best interest," Scrotum spluttered. "The masses must be taught to be free. Torture is just another form of education. Think of it as corporal punishment. Firmness is necessary. I was most impressed with the effectiveness of capital punishment during my recent exile in Texas."
"Oh, do stop being so tiresome, Blodgett!" Lady Monica said with asperity. "Texas has changed you. You sound positively Stalinist!"
Scrotum drew himself up to his full height, preparing to respond, but was obviously unable to come up with a sufficiently crushing retort. He turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, ostentatiously ignoring Lady Rudolphine who entered as he left.
"What's he upset about now?" Lady Rudolphine asked lightly.
"Oh, Aunt!" Lady Monica burst into tears. "I've lost the man of my dreams…" she sobbed.
"Nightmare, really," Lady Rudolphine responded unsympathetically. "Pull yourself together, Monica. I've had quite enough weepiness to deal with this week."
"Were you with her Majesty?" Terence asked curiously. "How is she taking Princess Fi's unexpected demise?"
"Badly." Lady Rudolphine sighed. "The poor thing was never taught how to drink. So she glugs champagne straight from the bottle and the bubbles go to her head causing wild exhilaration for fifteen minutes before she's down in the dumps again, whining about how her subjects don't love her anymore. And the Princes are of no use at all since it is shooting season in Scotland and they are all out with the guns. She was nearly apoplectic this morning when she heard the Pope's announcement."
"I thought the Pope was in a coma," Piknik said.
"On life support, I believe. The one in Vienna made the announcement."
"The Pope in Vienna?" Even Hell looked mystified.
"You haven't heard?" Lady Rudolphine chuckled. "Our old friend the Cardinal declared himself Pope this morning after the Vatikan doctors refused to turn off the old Pope's life support machine. His first act as Pope was to sanctify Princess Fi."
"Clever move." Hell sounded impressed. "Wins popular support"
"Right. Now they just have to get rid of everyone who knew Saint Fi personally."
"Is that what upset Her Majesty this morning?" I wondered why Terence looked quite so happy.
"She's always been terrified of assassination." Lady Rudolphine nodded. "I barely managed to keep her from abdicating this morning."
"What a blow that would be to our royal family." Terence surreptitiously rubbed his hands together.
"Be a dear and check the latest news," Lady Rudolphine urged me.
I was back two minutes later. "No news about the Queen. But the new Pope, His Holiness Maximilian the First has crowned His Excellency Axel von Schadenfreude as the new Holy Roman Emperor," I announced gravely, reading out the news release I had picked up on the internet. "The coronation took place in Bratislava about an hour ago."
"Why Bratislava?" Masaryk asked, Czech chauvinist to the core. "It is just a small provincial Slovak city."
"Bratislava was chosen because of its historic past as the coronation city of the Holy Roman Emperors," I continued reading. "The historic name of Pressburg has once again been restored to the city."
"Bratislava is an hour's drive from Vienna," Hell said soberly. "And halfway between Budapest and Prague."
"You mean…" Masaryk looked terrified.
Hell nodded and raised the parchment he had received from Budapest. "We need to take this declaration of war very seriously."
"Right. Let's get started." Hell silenced the quiet chatter as usual with a noisy thump of his walking stick on the conference table. "Got lots to discuss."
"Are we not missing some people, Otto?" Professor Masaryk quavered. "Also I do not recognise the gentleman in black…"
"Gunter Otto Troll," Hell replied. Gott uncrossed his folded arms and waved a hand. I nodded approvingly at his daring pink tie. "He has taken over the European Studies department."
"But where is our colleague Attila Ugh? I do not like him but surely he should be here for a meeting of the University's trustees."
"Ugh has resigned." A quiet wave of shock rocked the room. "As some of you may know, Xox was held captive in the Budapest College last week until my special assistant here freed him, using some rather unorthodox means."
"Always this boy causes trouble!" Professor Masaryk shook his fist at me.
"This intervention has somewhat precipitated matters," Hell continued. "Ugh and his cronies have come out in their true colours. The Budapest College has seceded from the University of Truth and Justice." Hell raised an embossed parchment. "They have formed their own University of Ruthless Justice and declared war on us."
"The Warsaw College has received an invitation to join this new university," Piknik confirmed. "Budapest has offered us West Slovakia and Northern Bohemia if we join them. I am here to hear your counter-offer."
"Two billion dollars for the Warsaw College and the majority share in Playtoy magazine for you," Hell replied briefly. "Take it or leave it."
"Done," Piknik replied, settling back comfortably in his chair. His small eyes glinted with satisfaction. "Real estate is the most over-rated investment."
"I always said Ugh was a megalomaniac," Masaryk declared with satisfaction. "He was never content with being merely the Director of the Budapest College. He always wanted to be university rector…"
"Actually, they have appointed a new rector. Albert Lumpkin."
"Bert Lumpkin?" Troll asked incredulously. "I thought he was in Paraguay with all the other Nazis."
"Apparently not." Hell sighed and rubbed his eyes. In that moment, he looked old and vulnerable. "I take this personally," he explained. "Lumpkin was a student of mine at Chicago. Took my game theory course along with Troll here and Xox. But Lumpkin always played dirty. Failed him for cheating. He became a strategist for the U.S. Defense Department during the Vietnam war. Worked for Kissinger for a while, then headed down to South America and became cozy with all the dictators. Military advisor to the most repressive military regimes on the continent. Excellent strategist. Eminence grise behind Somoza, Stroessner, Tourniquet…
"Tourniquet!" Blodgett Scrotum said indignantly. "Lord Hades, I must protest your description of that noble man. The Generalissimo is a hero in the cause of freedom."
"Lady Snatcher has just awarded Generalissimo Tourniquet the very first Gold Medal of the Snatcher Foundation," Terence confirmed.
"If Ugh is allied to Lumpkin who used to work for Tourniquet, then my allegiances are clear," Scrotum declared confusingly. "I have no choice but to secede as well. Monica, come!"
"Sorry, Blodgett," Lady Monica replied regretfully. "Free enterprise is all very well but I draw the line at torture."
"But Monica, my dear, ordinary people do not always know what is in their own best interest," Scrotum spluttered. "The masses must be taught to be free. Torture is just another form of education. Think of it as corporal punishment. Firmness is necessary. I was most impressed with the effectiveness of capital punishment during my recent exile in Texas."
"Oh, do stop being so tiresome, Blodgett!" Lady Monica said with asperity. "Texas has changed you. You sound positively Stalinist!"
Scrotum drew himself up to his full height, preparing to respond, but was obviously unable to come up with a sufficiently crushing retort. He turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, ostentatiously ignoring Lady Rudolphine who entered as he left.
"What's he upset about now?" Lady Rudolphine asked lightly.
"Oh, Aunt!" Lady Monica burst into tears. "I've lost the man of my dreams…" she sobbed.
"Nightmare, really," Lady Rudolphine responded unsympathetically. "Pull yourself together, Monica. I've had quite enough weepiness to deal with this week."
"Were you with her Majesty?" Terence asked curiously. "How is she taking Princess Fi's unexpected demise?"
"Badly." Lady Rudolphine sighed. "The poor thing was never taught how to drink. So she glugs champagne straight from the bottle and the bubbles go to her head causing wild exhilaration for fifteen minutes before she's down in the dumps again, whining about how her subjects don't love her anymore. And the Princes are of no use at all since it is shooting season in Scotland and they are all out with the guns. She was nearly apoplectic this morning when she heard the Pope's announcement."
"I thought the Pope was in a coma," Piknik said.
"On life support, I believe. The one in Vienna made the announcement."
"The Pope in Vienna?" Even Hell looked mystified.
"You haven't heard?" Lady Rudolphine chuckled. "Our old friend the Cardinal declared himself Pope this morning after the Vatikan doctors refused to turn off the old Pope's life support machine. His first act as Pope was to sanctify Princess Fi."
"Clever move." Hell sounded impressed. "Wins popular support"
"Right. Now they just have to get rid of everyone who knew Saint Fi personally."
"Is that what upset Her Majesty this morning?" I wondered why Terence looked quite so happy.
"She's always been terrified of assassination." Lady Rudolphine nodded. "I barely managed to keep her from abdicating this morning."
"What a blow that would be to our royal family." Terence surreptitiously rubbed his hands together.
"Be a dear and check the latest news," Lady Rudolphine urged me.
I was back two minutes later. "No news about the Queen. But the new Pope, His Holiness Maximilian the First has crowned His Excellency Axel von Schadenfreude as the new Holy Roman Emperor," I announced gravely, reading out the news release I had picked up on the internet. "The coronation took place in Bratislava about an hour ago."
"Why Bratislava?" Masaryk asked, Czech chauvinist to the core. "It is just a small provincial Slovak city."
"Bratislava was chosen because of its historic past as the coronation city of the Holy Roman Emperors," I continued reading. "The historic name of Pressburg has once again been restored to the city."
"Bratislava is an hour's drive from Vienna," Hell said soberly. "And halfway between Budapest and Prague."
"You mean…" Masaryk looked terrified.
Hell nodded and raised the parchment he had received from Budapest. "We need to take this declaration of war very seriously."
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