Free Pax Britannia: Human Nature by Jonathan Green Page B

hooting and chattering again, only this time Ulysses could have sworn they were laughing.
    It was just as Ulysses had suspected. The Magpie's mastery of his pets must have been unrivalled in all the empire, outside of the Congo.
    Loosely holding the pistol in his hand by only a couple of fingers, Ulysses raised both hands and began a slow clap, each slap of palm on palm reverberating loudly, amplified by the acoustics of the strange monkey house.
    "I applaud you, Magpie. An incredible example of man's mastery of the lower forms of life on this planet. The window, the picked lock, it all makes sense to me now."
    The silhouette shifted as the villain bowed, luxuriating in the chance to boast of his daring exploits before someone who could appreciate his work, even if he could not condone it.
    "But why?"
    "Ah," the Magpie mused, obviously delighted to have someone with whom he could share the truth of his cunning, "there it is, the unanswerable question. The one for which any answer, no matter what, can still be interpreted with the same question again; why? Why, why, why?"
    Trained monkeys , Ulysses thought. Imagine all the places they could go without ever even arousing any suspicions. He wondered how many other unsolved crimes - or even as yet unnoticed thefts - were the work of Magpie and his monkeys.
    "So, why?" Ulysses repeated. "What is a fake, such as the Whitby Mermaid, worth to you?"
    "Oh, not to me, Mr Quicksilver, not to me," the Magpie chuckled.
    "Then who?"
    "Ah, Mr Quicksilver. Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" Magpie teased.
    "But what have you got to lose?" Ulysses pressed. "Who's going to know? Who am I going to tell? Something tells me you're not going to let me walk out of here Scot free."
    The Magpie chuckled again. "I do have a reputation to uphold."
    "And I have a desperate desire to know. To have got so close to the answer. What can it hurt? What about granting a condemned man's final wish?"
    "But what would life be without a little mystery? Where would be the excitement in that?"
    That was what all this was about, Ulysses realised, having a little fun. It was all for the thrill; the chase was everything.
    "Indeed."
    Ulysses aimed his gun, and fired.
    The bulb that had been doing such a good job of silhouetting his target exploded and, as the light died, Ulysses caught a glimpse of the Magpie throwing his arms up to protect his head. And then, he was moving.
    "Nimrod, duck and cover!"
    At his command, his manservant went for the shelter of the doorway by which they had entered the place.
    As Ulysses raced for the shadows the only sound he could hear was the mass intake of breath as the House of Monkeys recoiled at his audacity. He raised his gun and fired a second shot towards the network of aerial walkways.
    There was a second explosive crack as his shot exploded a lamp, and an angry, animalistic roar as the resulting shower of oil ignited, even as it rained down on the flammable boards and bindings.
    "I would appear that you missed, Mr Quicksilver," the voice came from elsewhere now.
    "Did I?"
    "You are a fool, Mr Quicksilver. A fool. You won't get a second chance."
    The Magpie gave a shrill whistle and, with a cacophony of simian shrieks and near-human cries, it started raining monkeys.
    The primates dropped from their perches or swung down from the burning boards and bridges above, all gunning for the gunman... even as, after the initial shower of monkeys, fire began to rain down within the House of Monkeys.
    The screams of the apes increased ten-fold as burning oil splashed their hairy hides, setting them alight.
    Something man-like - and yet too strangely proportioned to be a man - launched itself at Ulysses out of the whirling rabble and landed heavily in the middle of his chest. He was thrown backwards by the baboon that now sat astride him as he landed on top of an apple crate, which turned to matchwood beneath them.
    The baboon raised its powerful fists above its head and, snarling, bared