Ratman's Notebooks Page 19

  I didn’t notice him getting his hand into the right-hand pocket of his jacket. Suddenly there was a crash and an explosion. I suppose it must have been the other way round. I heard glass falling behind me. I drew back with a start. I got a fright. My rage went just like that. I was immediately cool again. I realised what had happened. Jones had taken the advice the police and the papers were giving—anyone working with money at night to carry a revolver. Only it was an automatic pistol of some sort he was pulling out of his pocket. He’d tried to shoot me with it in his pocket and missed. As soon as he could get his aim properly he would shoot again and kill me this time. I was frightened. I didn’t know what to do. Instinctively I took another step back. I saw the pistol come up. The electric light glinted on something blue in the metal of the barrel. He had difficulty steadying it. ‘Drop that tube,’ he ordered.

  His voice was shaky, but I dropped it. I found myself licking my lips. They tasted salty.

  ‘Put up your hands.’

  Up went my hands. My eyes were fixed on the barrel of the automatic. It was as if I was hypnotised.

  ‘Turn and face . . .’

  I was beginning to turn when Bang! Crash!

  Something brown was fixed on his hand. The pistol went off again and I heard the bullet smash into some wooden panelling just below the level of the glass to my right. The pistol fell on to the carpet. Jones jumped up.

  ‘Damn and bloody hell!’ He was shaking his hand and after a moment Ben dropped off. But there were rats all over him now. He kept brushing at his back and the collar of his jacket, first with one hand then the other. The blood was dripping from his right hand and leaving streaks of blood on his clothes.

  He came staggering round the desk towards the door and I retreated in front of him through the door and into the passage. He was frightening. I stood in the passage between the door of his office and the street door. I had calmed a little and regained my wits. I thought he would make for the street door and that I would have to try and stop him. My rage had quite gone. I didn’t even want to kill him any more. I felt somehow that Socrates was sufficiently avenged. I even felt an inclination to help the man against the rats.

  He came lurching out and saw me. His face was ghastly. I suppose the sight of me turned him. He went the opposite way towards the door of the yard. There were three or four rats on his back. They were through his jacket. I saw the white of his shirt. In another moment they’d be tearing the skin from his back.

  He started a sort of half-run. I suppose it was the most he could manage. And then I saw that there were more rats between him and the yard-door. They were coming under the yard-door. These couldn’t be my rats. I hadn’t brought so many rats with me. Jones saw them too. He turned to the right and made for the stairs. The stairs lead up to the lofts. He jumped up the first few steps. Then stopped and tore off his jacket. He threw it down to the foot of the stairs where the rats were already approaching. He bent down and brushed two or three rats off his trousers. He kicked at them furiously for a moment or two. I think he must have killed them. Then he went on up the stairs. His shirt was torn and through it I could see that his back was bleeding.

  I wondered if he’d thought of any way to escape. I couldn’t let him escape. And I knew there were several possibilities open to him. He might open one of the upstairs windows, lean out and yell. There was a chance that someone might hear him. Or no one might hear him. The whole district was usually pretty well deserted at night, except for the odd person working late. His only chance would be some such person going home, or perhaps a policeman on patrol. And what could one person do? Call the fire-brigade perhaps. That wouldn’t save him. The rats would catch up in three or four minutes at the most. But it might sink me. He might have time to shout out who Ratman was.

  All this went through my mind in seconds. Ben’s contingent of rats was already coming out of Jones’s office and starting to run down the passage. ‘Come on,’ I shouted. ‘After him. Hurry.’ I ran to the foot of the stairs taking care not to tread on the rats Jones had shaken off. He had killed two with his kicks and there was another writhing and screaming on the bottom step. I jumped over it and went up the stairs three at a time.

  I got to the first loft and saw Jones a flight ahead of me. He was turning on lights as he went. At the second loft he was still a flight ahead of me. Perhaps he had even gained a little. He was fitter than I would have imagined. I reached the third loft and heard his footsteps, clear of the stairs, running across the fourth. The fourth loft was the top and it had no windows opening on to the street. So he wasn’t going to try that. The fire-escape? But that only led back into the yard, and there’d be rats in the yard. I heard him dragging something across the floor. I got to the top and saw. He’d got a ladder and was putting it beneath one of the skylights. Really it was his best chance. He’d get away over the roof-tops, perhaps find another skylight and get down and out through another building.

  Though I was out of breath and panting I was thinking very clearly. I mustn’t get into a fight with Jones. If there was a fight he might mark me. If, for instance, I had a black eye in the morning someone would be sure to report it to the police. And the police would investigate. I couldn’t risk even being suspected.

  So for a moment I hung back. I watched Jones get the ladder into position and start to go up it. He had his back to me. I began to tiptoe across the floor. But he heard me. ‘Don’t try anything or I’ll kick your face in,’ he warned me. I made a grab at the bottom of the ladder, but he came down a rung or two and nearly got me with his foot. I ran back to the top of the stairs. Up he went again and began to wrestle with the bar of the skylight. It seemed to be stuck or something. I could hear him panting. I advanced again and began to circle round warily, keeping well out of range of his feet. I thought if I kept the ladder between him and me he might have more difficulty in kicking me. But as soon as he saw me there he began to come down again. I think he maybe thought he’d fight it out with me first and then make his escape. So I ran back to the stairhead. ‘The rats will be here any moment,’ I said. ‘They’re on the third loft already.’

  I didn’t know where they were. He hesitated a moment and went back up the ladder. This time he got on better. Whatever was jamming the skylight came free. I saw him begin to raise it.

  I ran back past the ladder. He must have either seen or heard me, but this time he paid no attention. I didn’t risk bending down to tug the ladder with my hands. I knew he might have come down on top of me in seconds. Instead I ran back again towards the stairhead, and as I passed I gave a hard kick at the bottom of the ladder. The side I kicked slipped a little. Not much, but Jones lost his balance and had to hold on with both hands. The skylight dropped down with a bang. I came back and kicked again. The ladder began to slip sideways. Jones was obviously powerless to kick me now. I grabbed the bottom of the ladder and pulled. It came away from the floor. The top slipped off the beam it was propped against. I let go and ran back to the top of the stairs as Jones and the ladder crashed to the floor.

  I waited there, watching. If Jones came after me I would run downstairs again till we met the rats coming up. Jones didn’t pick himself up very quickly. He was groaning a bit. At last he made an effort. He tried to help himself up with one arm, but it didn’t seem to be working properly. He gave a little cry and lay still for a few moments. Then he tried again. This time he was successful. He staggered to his feet and stood looking at me. ‘Why not let me go?’ he suggested. ‘I never done you any harm.’

  ‘Because you’d tell on me. You’d tell the police. I’d be put in gaol.’

  ‘I’d promise not to tell anyone.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t keep your promise. You’ve broken other promises—and you wouldn’t even feel bound by this one. You’d say it was a promise to a madman to save your life and didn’t count.’

  ‘I’d keep it,’ he
said.

  I knew he wouldn’t. Who would in the circumstances?

  I heard a sort of soft rustling sound, a sound I recognised—the sound of the feet of many rats. I looked down. There they were, a column of them, about five abreast. They were on the third loft just coming up to the stairs.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Jones asked.

  I was sorry for him, but I couldn’t help making a joke of it. ‘Our friends,’ I answered.

  ‘Oh God! Are they here?’

  ‘They will be in a minute.’

  ‘Please let me go. We’re both men after all, and I’ve always done my best for you. I did keep you in your job, when you asked me to.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have mercy.’

  ‘No.’

  He tried to prop up the ladder again. I watched him. He couldn’t manage it with only one arm working. I stood aside to make way for the rats. ‘Tear him up,’ I whispered softly. It was the only thing I could do. He went on bending over the ladder, trying to get it up, till the first rat jumped on his back. Then he straightened up and tried to knock it off.

  I turned and slipped away down the stairs. I didn’t want to see any more. I could only go down slowly feeling my way. There were rats on every step and I was careful not to stand on any of them. They were hopping up a step at a time, a long, unending column of them.

  I don’t know how long it took me to get to the first loft. But it was when I was there that the screaming became really loud. There are open hatchways on every loft for lowering goods into the yard. I stopped beside one of these, because I guessed what was going to happen.

  There was a rattle of feet across the top loft and then a still louder scream. Jones jumped out of the top loft. I only got a glimpse of him as he fell past me, but he screamed all the way to the ground. I think he was covered with rats when he fell. If so he must have killed some when he hit the yard. The scream stopped when he hit the yard, as if it had been cut off with a knife.

  I switched on the loading light and looked down. The yard was swarming with rats. Jones must have flattened quite a few when he landed. For the first time I felt a little frightened of the rats. Where on earth had they all come from?

  For a moment the rats near Jones didn’t move. His sudden arrival had frozen them. But the rats a little distance from him went on scurrying to and fro as if nothing had happened. Suddenly they all swarmed over him. He was hidden by rats. They were tearing him to pieces. But he wasn’t dead. He moved. You’d have sworn that for an instant he almost tried to sit up.

  I didn’t watch any longer. I wanted to get away. I went downstairs to the office. There didn’t seem to be rats in the office any longer except a few dead ones at the foot of the stairs. I felt I wanted to go home. I did think of Ben and the rats I’d brought with me. If I called them would they come or were they too engrossed in tearing Jones to pieces? First I would get them into Jones’s car. Then I’d get my car and transfer them from one to the other. But there were far more rats now than just the ones I had brought. What if they all decided to come?

  And then I thought, why bring any of them? And just as quickly as that I made my decision. I wouldn’t. I’d had enough of rats. I’d just go home without them. All I had to do was walk out of the front door of the office and I’d never see them again. They’d never get home by themselves. It’s five miles from home to the office.

  I was so taken with this idea that I was about to walk out of the front door then and there. Only I remembered I hadn’t locked up. Well nowadays there’s hardly any locking up to be done. In the old days it was quite a complicated business. Now all that’s necessary is to shut the safes, turn off the lights and slam the front door after you. There was only one safe open. The one where the money’s kept. When I went to shut it I remembered all the money in Jones’s office. It seemed funny shutting the safe leaving all that lying about. And it suddenly stuck me I shouldn’t be locking the safe, because I wasn’t supposed to be there at all. So I left it open. But from force of habit I went to the electric meter cupboard and switched off all the lights. It was only when I got to the door a second time that I realised that the light would have to be left on. I took a kind of pull on myself. I was really in a daze. I said to myself, ‘Wake up. You’ve got to make it look as if there’d been no one here but Jones and the rats.’ So I went back and turned the lights on again. Then I went to Jones’s office and wiped both handles of the door with my handkerchief just in case I’d left any fingerprints. I spotted the metal rod and put it back in the corner by the meter-box. I wiped the main switch in the meter-box, which I’d touched when I turned the lights out, and when I’d put them on again afterwards. I didn’t touch the safe. It would have been almost bound to have had my fingerprints on it in any case, from my ordinary work in the daytime. The fingerprints of the whole staff would be scattered all round the office. It might look suspicious if there were none on the safe.

  I stood still for a moment, forcing myself to think coolly. There was nothing else I should do. I went to the door once more. I stood inside listening carefully. No sound of footsteps on the pavement. I opened the door cautiously, looked up and down and slipped out. No one about. I went to the car park, got my car and drove home. Funny I didn’t begin to shake till I was safe inside the house.

  Time the Great Healer. Though less than twenty-four hours have passed I am almost my normal self. When I went up to bed last night I was sick. I think in some strange way that may have done me good. It took my mind off. . . . No good. If I’m not careful I shall be sick again. The thing is to forget. Forget there ever were any rats.

  The most difficult moment was when I went into the office. As it was Saturday none of the female staff was there. Which was lucky. Females notice more than men. I was still feeling pretty awful, but I didn’t want to show it. I had to go into the office pretending I knew nothing. I don’t usually buy a morning paper. I borrow the office one at lunch-time. But I knew it was in the papers. I’d seen the headlines when I was coming in on the bus.

  ‘Rats Eat Man’

  and

  ‘Now, Man-Eating Rats.’

  I was afraid they would notice I looked peculiar when I got into the office, and wonder why—if I didn’t know what had happened. But I’ve a fair amount of self-control and I forced myself to look perfectly normal and unconcerned. In fact everyone was far too excited to notice how I looked—and once I knew officially, I could look as sick as I liked. It was only natural.

  All they’d found of Jones was his skull. Licked pretty bare apparently. Eyes eaten out, cheeks gone, gums. . . . All they’d left was a little bit of scalp with hair clinging to it. This all according to the Book-keeper. Mrs. Jones rang the police when Hubby didn’t come home and the police got the Book-keeper down to open up the place for them. Funny the hair being left. I mean he didn’t have very much. It wouldn’t go very far in lining nests. It seems there were still rats in the yard when the police arrived, but they didn’t try to fight the police. They just bolted. You’d almost think Ben had been working to a plan of his own. They’d cleared away all the rat-corpses. It was as if they were trying to leave no sign at all. Even the blood was all licked up. All except a little under the skull where they found the bit of loose scalp with the hair on it. I’d never thought all that out. I hadn’t meant them to go any further than killing Jones. Of course this is all to the good. No sign this time of any Ratman.

  Monday. All the female staff in, surprisingly enough. Couldn’t resist the gossip, I suppose. They gossiped all day. Then great panic at going-home time. No one wanted to be last out. As a matter of fact I was last, though I didn’t mean to be. I found the others all waiting for me on the pavement. The girl said I was very brave. She says she and the rest of the females are going to give in their notice unless we move to new premises. Certainly no one is going to work late from now on. But I th
ink that’ll apply in nearly every business, not just ours.

  I don’t know what’ll happen to our firm without Jones. I should think someone will try to carry it on. In a funny way I wish he was still alive. I miss him. I didn’t really want to kill him exactly. But I had to. Hadn’t I?

  I wonder where Ben is now. Trying to walk it home. It’s a long walk. I hope he never makes it.

  All last night I had the most awful dreams. Sometimes Jones, sometimes Ben. . . .

  It’s funny to think that if I’d drowned old Ma Rat and her family away back at the beginning, as Mother wanted, I’d now be enjoying my new-found riches without a care in the world. Mother knew best. Now I’m going to do what I should have done then. All the adult male rats went off to the Jones affair. All the females not actually looking after litters, or just about to litter, went with them—and all the young rats of both sexes old enough to run about. The only rats left here are half-a-dozen nursing mothers—plus litters of course—and three or four more expecting next week. I’m going to drown them all on Saturday afternoon.

  I’m working out how to do it. I don’t think it will be difficult.

  The greatest Rat Hunt in the history of the World is about to begin. The Government has set up a new department called Rat Control and they’re hoping to start operations in this city. They’ve begun of course with posters and propaganda. Considering that Jones hasn’t been dead a week yet they’ve acted very quickly. ‘Commendable promptitude,’ the paper calls it. Of course they had to. It’s all right having a few children bitten by rats in the slums, but to have a prosperous businessman eaten alive on his own premises! There’s been a public outcry. Of course this city is the obvious place for ‘Operation Annihilation’ to begin.