Thomas and Captain Wood

By Jonathan Friedler

The book describes what happens in a city with a ghetto when faced with an existential threat of a magical kind of an interstellar nature. The characters include Thomas the liason man between the ghetto and the city; a sympathetic polise office called Captain Wood and many others from the ghetto and the city. The ghetto dwellers use magic, they say 'Kazoom' and magic comes forth. Their supply of magic rests on magic bars which they touch to supply their magical needs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publishdrive
• Release date: Mar 10, 2023

Book preview

Chapter 1

A bribe collection, a late arrival and a fantasy steam train

The scene is in a hardware store. It is closed for business. The shelves on the walls are brimming with boxes and bottles of different sizes, with pots and pans and

garden tools. The shop owner is standing on one side of the shop counter talking to a gorilla of a man with a noticeable facial scar. A blank white envelope is passing hand to hand over the shop counter. Is it buying protection? Well, of course, it is! The following conversation could form a prosecution barrister's winning brief.

'This envelope isn't heavy enough! ‘says the man mountain weighing the envelope in one hand.

'Business has been slow … expenses have gone up … some customers owe me money … I could get another bank loan … I could use my horse and cart as collateral … rising inflation could be my friend … next month will be better.' replies the anxious shopkeeper.

That's confusing. This bruiser's knowledge of business is highly specific, how to extract money from it, and does not extend to the lexicon of economics, 'Eh?' he utters.

'I'll pay more next month.' The shopkeeper crosses his fingers as he speaks.

'You remember what happened to the shop next door after he got behind in payments?' warns the 'protection' man.

A memory of scorching heat and flames sears the shopkeeper's mind.

'Those flames almost burnt down my shop, too,' he recalls.

The man mountain pauses in thought, ‘Well, I might have used a little too much paraffin. But what happened next really made me jump out of my skin.’

'It shocked me, too. It was one of those magical waves.' explains the shop owner.

That's a worrying thought for the Mafia man, 'I never liked those mangy magicians, you can't trust 'em any further than you can throw 'em.'

'I'm pretty sure the wretched magicians aren't responsible for the waves.' The shopkeeper has no truck with the prosecuting of the poorest section of society.

'The flames turned into feathers and then they blew into a floating swimming pool!' The bruiser has a vivid recollection.

'I saw that too. Then as the wave finished, the pool and feathers disappeared. Did you hear the opera soprano during the wave, too?' asks the shopkeeper.

'My ears are still ringing! When is the next wave coming?' Says the bruiser unconsciously rubbing his ears.

'Nobody knows.' answers the shopkeeper looking at a clock on the wall; he's losing business.

'What about those magicians? I'll grab one and make him tell me.' The forceful approach appeals to the gorilla of a man.

'Especially not them.' The shopkeeper is seeking to prevent an act of violence.

'I still don't like magicians. They should go back where they came from.' The collection man puts the envelope into an inside pocket in his jacket. 'I'll be back in a month. Have the cash ready.'

As the shopkeeper finally opens his shop to business, he rues the prevalence of ugly racism in society.

Two potential victims of this discrimination are rushing to get home before the curfew begins.

'Where have you been? We barely have enough time to get back to the ghetto.' asks the magician who's been waiting a few steps from the gate in the high wall. A wall which stretches on three sides of the ghetto. The fourth side is formed by a natural obstacle; the sea.

'I was at the Astrological Society's offices.' replies a middle-aged man who is actually dressed in the traditional clothes of a circus magician.

'What on earth for, Thomas? You usually deal with horoscopes and card tricks'

'They asked me to come, Rodolfo.' replies Thomas.

'Really? Did they want you to read their palms? Rodolpho is still perplexed by this news.

'No, they wanted to discuss the magical waves.' Thomas gets right to the point.

'So, they realise that their source is astrological?' Rodofo asks.

'Yes, unlike all the newspapers who are blaming us for the waves, the astrologers with their telescopes know better. They can see the waves coming from space.' Thomas explains.

'So how could you help them?' Despite the imminent start of the curfew, Rodolfo wants to know more.

'Well, Rodolfo, I advised them to try and issue warnings before the waves hit.'

'But Thomas, the waves come pretty quickly.

'Yes, but they are not gravitational waves, they are magical ones and so are much slower. They think they have 5-10 minutes to issue the warnings.'

'And they are much more variable. We know from our Sages that these waves can even change direction.' Rodolfo continues the thought.

'I thought I'd let their astrologers find that out by themselves.' Thomas is always cautious when dealing with the larger society outside the ghetto. He needs to be; he's the liaison man between the two communities, though only a few people know that in the city.

'What else have you left them to find out by themselves?' inquires Rodolfo.

'Well, I was advised to give them information drip by drip. After all, for them, I'm a poor fortune teller with no scientific knowledge.' Thomas refers to his cover job in the city which allows him to do his real one.

'But they still asked you to help them.' Rodolfo is still trying to get his head around this turn of events,

'Well, Rodolfo, the astrologers didn't know what to do or how to understand the magical waves so who could they call but a magician.'

'I see.' says Rodolfo and adds, 'Thank the Lord our Sages know about the magical event horizon and are working on how to terminate them.'

'Amen to that.' Thomas had gone to one of the ghetto's religious schools in his youth.

'Here's the ghetto gate. Where's your pass, Thomas?' asks Rodolfo.

'Oh no, I think I left it at the Astrological Society's offices. I'll have to use a little magic.' Thomas is patting his pockets.

'How much magical charge have you got now, Thomas?' Rodolfo can see that in the absence of a pass, only one other option was available.

'I'm down to 2 MBPs (Magical Band Power)' Thomas has a very good reputation as the circus magician partly due to his surreptitious use of real magic when doing his job.

'Well, let me do it. I'm on 22 MBPs myself.' offers Rodolfo.

The two men approach the entrance to the ghetto.

'Show me your passes.' demands one of the guards at the gate in the wall.

Kazoom!

'Go through you dirty magicians.' curses the guard.

Kazoom phut phut phut …

'Ugh!' the same guard has clutched his throat and his face is contorted.

'You really need a new charge Thomas, and what did you do to the bigot?' Rodolfo says looking back.

'Well, Rodolfo, he suddenly experienced the most unpleasant sensation of a mouth full of soap and water.' replies Thomas grinning as they enter the ghetto.

The scene is a fairly big kitchen in a family house. There is a fireplace where steam is coming from a large pot; there's a long table in the middle of the room and on the shelves there are plates and pots and even more pots are hanging from the ceiling. A young servant has just arrived for work.

'You just made it in time, Poly, put the kettle on.' instructs the lady of the house.

'What's young George doing in the kitchen, ma'am?' asks a flustered Poly, she's just run the last part of her journey to work in order not to be late, again.

'Could you keep an eye on him, Poly? I'll be back soon.' George's mother makes a request.

'Yes, of course, Ma'am, he seems to be keeping himself busy with his toys.' Poly answers with a smile.

'Thanks Poly.' says the mother, turning to leave the kitchen.

The door opens and closes.

'Now, you behave George, I've got a lot to do this morning.' Poly tells George.

'Yes, Poly,' answers George, 'but why is there so much steam coming out of the kettle and why is that man in a uniform whistling so loudly?'

'Oh no, it's another magical wave!' Poly is upset.

The kitchen has been invaded by three dimensional characters dressed in the clothes of railway employees; the kitchen itself is turning into a train station at times and a steam train at others.

'All aboard the Flying Scotsman. All aboard …'

'A return ticket is £5.25.'

'More coal, more coal, we need to go faster.'

Young George watches in amazement, Poly in trepidation. She's relieved to say after several minutes as the whistle of a steam train fades away, 'Thank Goodness the kitchen is returning to normal. That's the third time this week the magic turned the kitchen into whatever that was. If that happens again, I'm going to quit working for the Stephenson family.'

Chapter Two

A question of conscience, a blow against organised crime and some famous initials.

Now, we are in the office of an editor of one of the city's daily newspapers. We can hear the chugging of the big printing machines below the office. In the office itself, there is a large table covered in newspapers and copy. There are a number of cabinets in the room, too. In a glass one near the table there are some bottles of wine and beer. Two men are sitting opposite each other at the table and one of them with his face to the door keeps looking at this cabinet.

'This isn't going to work anymore. We can't keep running articles that blame magicians for all the problems of society.' says the other man, with his back to the door. He's the sub-editor and he has a conscience.

'I don't see why not. The papers always sell well.' says the editor, and he doesn't.

'But that headline, 'Magicians Cause Havoc Again!' It should read, 'Magical Waves Cause Havoc Again!' The sub-editor is trying to instil some morals in his boss.

'Well, the magicians are doing it, aren't they?' The editor is being deliberately stupid.

'Doing what exactly?' the sub-editor replies patiently.

'You know, making those awful magical waves.' replies the editor, his eyes now firmly fixed on the glass cabinet with the drinks, he continues quickly, 'I never want to see those ugly male faces changing into each other and all saying 'Nein racism', or some other double dutch and then UE something says no to racism' .. again!'

'Where's your proof?' the sub-editor is not giving up easily.

'Proof of what?' the editor feigns stupidity again.

'That the magicians are causing the waves.' the sub-editor clarifies.

'Well, .., it is all magic isn't it?' say the editor getting up to open the cabinet and to take a bottle of strong liquor out of it.

Meanwhile, across the street from the newspaper offices at the Police HQ, a meeting is taking place between the Police Commissionaire and a Police Captain in the former's office. The Commissionaire is sitting behind his wooden desk and talking to the captain who is sitting across from him. There's a huge map of the city on the wall behind the captain and crosses and notes are written all over it. Plans are now afoot to deal a blow to the rampant corruption that is plaguing the city.

'How are the constables positioned at the shopping premises, Captain?' asks the Commissionaire.

'There is a plain clothed constable in each premise and a team of three or four constables