The Witches Of Chiswick by Robert Rankin

Author:Robert Rankin [Rankin, Robert]
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Robert Rankin
Published: 2010-05-29T13:27:19.808000+00:00

"You mustn't touch him, chief. I've just had a terrible thought."

"Tell me something new."

"Oh ha ha ha, chief. A little humour to lighten a stressful situation. But I'm not kidding you. Don't touch him. Under no circumstance touch him."

"Why not?" Will asked.

"Because if it is you, there's no telling what might happen. Well, actually, there is and it's not good, I can tell you." "I don't have time for this."

"You do, chief. And time is what it's all about. This could be you, due to some time-travelling anomaly. And if it is, the two yous must not come into physical contact. It's all that time paradox business. Two yous cannot occupy the same space. It would be like matter and antimatter meeting. Big explosion and then no yous at all. Did you ever see Time Cop? David Warner was in that and he got pushed into his other self and the two went whoosh. Horrible, it was, but a damn good movie. Actually, David Warner was in several movies with a 'time' theme. Time after Time, Time Bandits

Will thought for a moment. It was not a particularly long moment. It was possibly longer than a "trice", but not as long as "a mo". Or perhaps it was the other way around.

"Up!" he shouted at his blood-splattered doppelganger. "Come with me, if you want to live."

"Good line, chief. Wrong movie, but still one of my favourites." The prisoner sat shaking. He turned his face away. "They'll kill you if you stay here," Will told him. "It's capital punishment in this era. They'll hang you for being Jack the Ripper." "I'm not—" the prisoner groaned.

"Hurry," Will told him.

The prisoner struggled to rise. Will almost helped him. Almost. "Keep thinking David Warner," Barry told him. "Out." Will threw open the cell door.

"What happened?" asked Constable Tenpole Tudor, peering dizzily in.

Will felled him with a second blow and snatched up Rune's cane from the floor. "Out." He waved the cane at the prisoner. "Out, and hurry."

The prisoner stumbled across the cell, he stepped over the unconscious Chief Inspector and then the unconscious constable. Will prodded him into the corridor with the cane. "Along to the end and up the stairs," he told him. "And hurry. I really do mean hurry."

And along the corridor and up the stairs the prisoner stumbled. He seemed in a state of near collapse and he was buffeted from one wall to another. Will kept prodding and urging and in more than a "mo", but less

than a "bit", they reached the miserable front desk.

And then Will saw them, through the melancholic front windows of the police station. Two hansom cabs were drawn up outside and folk were climbing down from them: official-looking fellows in high top hats and long dark-jacketed morning suits, and a number of women. Well-dressed women, lavishly-dressed women, but with preposterously slender bodies and tiny pinched faces, these women, four in number they were, looked curiously alike, as if sisters. But—

"Evil," whispered Will.

"Chief, I can feel them," Barry said.

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