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Omally floundered about seeking a suitable weapon； his hand closed over a length of iron conduit。 'Up the rebels；' he cried as he flung himself towards Jim's attacker。 His own double turned upon him to stand glaring； eye to eye。 'You bastard；' spat Omally； 'e and try your luck。' He swung his cudgel with terrific force but the robot shot out a hand and grasped it； tearing it from his grip and flinging it the length of the warehouse。 Omally ducked back as his double delved into its pocket。 The smile widened upon its lips as the small black box appeared。
'Hold hard；' a voice echoed about the warehouse。 Four pairs of eyes shot in the direction of the sound。 A tall； gaunt figure stood crouched in the doorway； silhouetted against the light； legs spread widely apart and hands held forward。 'This is a Magnum Forty…four；' he shouted； 'biggest handgun in the world and can blow your heads clean off your shoulders。 What do you say； punks？'
The robot duplicates looked towards their respective quarries； one cowering and covering his nuts； the other standing defiant； thirty…four…function barlow knife now in hand。 They turned in unison towards the source of their annoyance。
'Hold hard or I fire；' cried Sherlock Holmes。
The robots stole forward upon synthetic heels。
'Right on。' Holmes' trigger finger tightened。 Two shots rang out in rapid succession。 The robot Pooley span from his feet in a hazy blur； his head a mass of trailing ribbons and sparking wires。 The Omally sank to its knees； foul yellow slime spurting from two over…large holes front and back of its plastic skull。 He rose to stumble forward； cruel claws scratching at the air； jerked upright； then slumped to the deck； a rag doll flung carelessly aside。 Holmes blew into the barrel of his Forty…four； spun it upon his forefinger； and tucked it away into his shoulder holster。 'Gotcha；' he said。
Omally clicked back the blade of his barlow knife and thrust the thing into his breast pocket。 He stepped over to console the gibbering Pooley。 'Thanks yet again；' he said to Sherlock Holmes。 'It seems that we are once more in your debt。'
'No sweat；' the great detective replied。 He stooped over the twisted 'corpse' of the false and fallen Pooley and began to turn out its pockets。 Jim crept forward and watched in horror as Holmes examined the contents before tossing them aside。 A besmutted handkerchief； a leaky ballpoint pen； an initialled gold Cartier lighter； and a packet of Passing Cloud cigarettes。
Pooley patted frantically at his pockets； they'd been picked obviously。 To his further horror his patting disclosed an identically besmutted handkerchief； a leaky ballpoint pen； and the same Cartier lighter； which he had not as yet learned how to fill； even the packet of fags。 Pooley held out his hands to Sherlock Holmes。 The detective took the cigarette packet and shook it open： seventeen cigarettes。 He picked up the robot's packet： three gone from the packet of twenty。
'Very thorough。 Every last detail absolutely correct；' said Holmes。 'I would hazard a guess that； should we analyse the fluff in your trouser pockets and that of this demon…spawn here； they would match exactly。' Jim shuddered。 Holmes pleted his search and satisfied himself that he had taken all relevant matters into account。 He rose to leave。 'I must away now；' he said。 'The game is afoot。'
'It's costing us an arm and a leg；' said Omally。 'Well； good luck to you at the very least。'
'Your sentiment is appreciated； John； but luck plays no part whatsoever in my investigations。' Holmes tapped at his right temple。 'It all es from here。 The science of deduction； made art。'
'Yes；' said Omally doubtfully。 'Well； be that as it may。 My best wishes to you for the success of your mission。'
'Ten…four；' said the detective。 'Up and away。' With these few words he leapt out through the warehouse door and was presently lost from view。
'I still say he's a nutter。' Omally brushed the dust and grime away from the numb and shattered Jim Pooley。
The two electronic cadavers lay spread across the warehouse floor； and it was no pleasant thing to behold your own corpse lying at your very feet。 Pocket fluff and all。 Omally turned Jim's head away。 'e on； mate；' said he softly。 'We've had a good innings here； let's not spoil it。'
Jim pointed a dangly hand towards his doppelganger； 'It was me；' he said。 'It was me。'
'Well； it's not any more。 e on； let's get out of here。'
'I shouldn't do it。' A voice from behind froze Omally in his tracks and caused his hand to seek out his barlow knife。 'Don't go outside； I'm telling you。' Omally turned slowly and wearily to face whatever the new threat might be。 Across the deserted warehouse floor a head peeped out from a now open manhole。 It was Soap Distant。 'Lead roof；' said the pink…eyed man from below。 'The puter scan cannot penetrate it。 That's why they couldn't find you。'
Omally peered up into the darkness of the eaves above。 'So that was it。'
'Hurry now；' said Soap。 'Their back…up boys are on the way。'
John did not need telling twice。 Thrusting Pooley before him； he made for the manhole and something which loosely…resembled safety。 As Jim's head vanished into the darkness below John skipped back to where his duplicate lay。 Viewing his own remains； he smiled briefly； and stopped to remove the thing's left boot。 Upending this； a bundle of banknotes tumbled out into his hand。 'Very thorough indeed；' said John； pocketing the spoils of war。
24
A half a mile beneath the surface of Planet Earth； Soap Distant offered Omally a cup of tea。
'This time I think I will；' said John。 'Is there any chance of breakfast； Soap？'
'Certainly。' The pink…eyed man applied himself to the frying…pan。
'Are you all right； Jim？' Omally prodded his panion who was staring dumbly into space。
'It was me；' mouthed Jim。
'Well； it isn't now。 You're safe。'
'It was me。'
'Sunnyside up；' piped Soap。
'Two on a raft；' Omally replied； 'with all the trimmings。'
Shortly a fine breakfast was in the offing。 With the aid of much pushing； prompting； and cuffing； Jim was slowly brought back to the land of the living to enjoy his。 For every 'It was me'； he received a blow to the head。 Somewhat after the fashion of the now legendary Pavlov's pooches he learned the error of his ways。 'Could I have another fried slice？' he asked。
Soap obliged。 As he turned the bread in the pan he said。 'The lead you see； the scan cannot penetrate it。 They've got an eye in the sky up there watching everybody that's left； but they can't see through the lead。 I myself lined the Professor's loft with lead foil。 Keeps the buggers out it does。'
Omally wiped his chin。 'Very good； Soap。 It is pleasing to hear that some precautions can be taken。'
'Oh yes； no system is infallible。 Old Ratinous and Loathesome think they've got it all figured out； but there is always a dodge to be found by the thinking man。'
'Such was once the credo of my karma but I am now experiencing some doubts。'
'Don't；' said Soap。 'We'll beat the blighters yet。'
'You seem very confident。'
Soap dumped the fried slice on to Pooley's plate； and popped a grilled tomato into his mouth。 'Oh yes；' he said between munchings； 'there is not a machine yet that will not fare the worse for a well…placed spanner jammed up its works。'
'Good man；' said Omally； leaning forward to pat his host upon the shoulder。 'I hope you know where to place the spanner。'
'Never fear。' Soap pulled at his lower eye。 'Never fear。'
'See；' said Omally； nudging Pooley in the rib area； 'even with Armageddon staring you in the face there is always a flanker to be pulled。'
'It was me；' said Jim。 'Could I have another grilled sausage do you think； Soap？'
The pink…eyed man laughed heartily。 'Have two；' he cried； 'have three if you wish。'
'Three would be fine；' said Jim。 'I have no wish to appear greedy。'
The three sub…Earthers enjoyed a hearty breakfast washed down with several bottles of Chateau Distant carrot claret。 'I think you might do well to lie low here for a while；' Soap advised his guests。 'Your cards would seem to be well and truly marked at present。'
'What about the spanner？' Omally made turning motions with his hand。
'All in good time； Professor Slobe has the matter well in hand。 He will tell us when the time is right。'
Omally made a sour face。 'Much as I love that old man； I am not altogether sure that his reasoning is quite as clear as it once was。'
Soap flapped his hands wildly。 'Do not say such things。 The Professor is an Illuminati。 You must trust in all he says。'
'Perhaps；' Omally finished his glass。 'But it is all theories； theories； and there is precious little of what he says that makes any sense to me。'
'I would have thought that as a Catholic yourself； the idea would have held great appeal。'
'What Armageddon？ The Twilight of the Gods？ Not a lot。'
'No； not that side of it； I mean about the garden。'
'What garden？'
'About the garden being in Brentford。 That is the whole point of it all； surely？'
'Soap； in a single sentence you have lost me pletely。 What are you talking about？'
'Eden； the Garden of Eden。 Do you mean he didn't tell you？'
'Hold on； hold on。' Omally held up his hands。 'Go through this again slowly。 What are you talking about？'
'The Garden of Eden；' said Soap。 'You know the one； gets a big mention in Genesis。'
'Of course I know。 What are you saying？'
Soap shook his head； he was clearly speaking with a half…wit。 'Why do you think the walls have e down about Brentford？'
'To stop me spending my millions；' said Pooley bitterly。
'Hardly that。 To protect Eden against the fall of Babylon。'
'I always had Babylon pegged as being a little further south。'
'Not a bit of it；' said Soap。 'Chiswick。'
'Chiswick？'
'Yes。 You see； the Professor solved the whole thing years ago； when he reorientated all the old maps。 He was under the belief that the entire chronology and location of Biblical events was wildly inaccurate。 He spent years piecing it all together before he finally solved the riddle。'
'That Babylon was in Chiswick。'
'Yes； but more importantly； that the Garden of Eden was planted right here。 Upon the very spot now enclosed within the Brentford Triangle。'
'Madness；' said Omally； 'nothing more； nothing less。'
'Not a bit of it。 He showed me all the reorientated maps。 All the events chronicled in the Bible took place right here in England。'
'And Christ？'
'And did those feet in ancient times？ Liverpool born； crucified in Edinburgh。'
'Blasphemy；' said Omally； 'heresy also。'
'It is as true as I am sitting here。' Soap crossed his heart with a wet finger。 'All the stories in the Bible are based upon more ancient texts than scholars suppose。 The events took place in a more northerly clime。 They were transferred to their present incorrect locations upon far later translations of the Holy Word。 The dates are thousands of years out。 It all happened right here； and； for that matter； it is still happening。 I would have thought that matters above make that patently obvious。'
'Blessed Mary；' said John Omally。
'Born in Penge。'
'Where else？'
'Makes you think； though；' said Pooley； freshening his glass。 'After all； we all knew that Brentford was the hub of the universe。 This simply confirms it。'
'Exactly；' said Soap。 'And we have always known that God is an Englishman。'
'Steady on；' said John Omally。 'I will swallow a lot but never that。 British at a pinch。 But English？ Never。'
'Ipso facto；' said Soap； 'or something like。'
'I will need to give this matter a considerable amount of intense thought；' said John Omally； 'which I believe might necessitate the consumption of a litre or two more of your claret to aid cogitation。' 'Cogitate on me；' said Soap Distant； drawing out race of flagons from beneath his chair。 'You are a gentleman； sir。'
25
Norman had the door of his shop well…barred。 Trade had fallen off to such an alarming degree that； but for serving Old Pete with his newspaper and tobacco； there seemed no point whatever in opening。 Absolute panic； and the fear of his duplicate's return； or possibly the arrival of something far worse； had prompted him this day； upon the ancient's departure； to barricade the premises against the o