Chapter 19: The French are Crazy

‘Mary Sue! Mary Sue!’ I was many fathoms sunk in the deepest fluffy sleep of my adult life. The bed was amazing, but there was a loud background hum, which was weird. I started to drift away again. ‘Mary Sue!’ This time was being shaken, and I opened my crusty eyes, bewildered and disoriented. Opening my eyes didn’t make things any less confusing, because there next to me on the bed was Vanessa Paradis. I closed my eyes again. ‘No, Mary Sue, I am sorry,’ said Vanessa. ‘Zis is important you get up now, for ze jet lag.’ I nodded, as my consciousness finally began to batter at my sleeping-state and remind me of yesterday’s extraordinary events. I opened my eyes again, and forced myself to sit.

‘How long was I sleeping?’ I mumbled.

‘Just nearly four hours,’ said Vanessa. But we land in Los Angeles soon after midnight, so you must not be all bushy eyes and ready for ze new day, no?’

‘When is that?’

‘Three more hours. We ‘ave all had ze little doze. I ‘ave brought zis.’ She pressed a big mug of coffee into my hands. ‘Ze shower is a good one. You would like a snack? I ‘ave already ‘ad bacon sandwiches, but zere are many more. Or if you want company for Danish pastry? Zey are good ones also.’ I nodded, still woozy.

When I stumbled through into the main cabin of Vanessa and Johnny Depp’s private jet, I was feeling surprisingly normal, physically at least. Ewan McGregor was looking at a laptop screen, but when he saw me, he shut it and looked guilty. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ewan,’ said Johnny. ‘Mary Sue has to know what’s going on.’ He looked at me. ‘It’s nothing you don’t already know, in terms of facts, but obviously the reporters have… Well. It’s probably best you read it yourself.’
I sat down, and opened up the screen. It was a BBC web page with the headline, DAVID TENNANT SWORD MURDER HORROR. The picture was a crazy-faced David Tennant talking to me in the middle of South Square. The BBC had decided not to print the horrifying pictures of his decapitated victim, but subtly assured readers that these were available widely online. The text referred to me as ‘Mr Tennant’s lawyer, who has mysteriously disappeared and who is urgently wanted for questioning by the police.’ I was almost immediately returned to the adrenal panic that had been my default state since David Tennant walked into my office yesterday afternoon and said I was key to the imminent final battle between reincarnating angels and demons that could destroy the world. My hand was over my mouth, probably to stop my heart from jumping out.

‘I’m so sorry, Mary Sue,’ said Ewan McGregor.

‘I have to phone my mum. Where’s my phone, I couldn’t find it?’ Johnny shook his head. ‘It’s not secure,’ he said.

‘But…’

‘The Teacher has spoken to your mom. We have a message from her and your father. They say, “We are sorry we never told you the truth about your birth, we love you.” Your mom also said, “Why did you cut off your beautiful hair, you look like a convict.”’

‘Can I send them an email?’

Johnny shook his head again. ‘They will be being watched, everything they do, all their email, phones, the lot. And your friends. We have secure lines ourselves, but if the demons know any friends are in contact with you, those friends will be in deadly danger.’

I looked back at the screen, and noticed a link on the side of the page to the day’s other stories. One in particular leapt out at me: FRENCH CEASE PAYMENT FOR NORTH SEA GAS. I clicked on the story. Ever since Le Pen’s shock Front National victory in the Presidential elections, France had been behaving erratically. Borders had been closed, and quarrels picked with all and sundry. Like most Britons, I said I found this horrifying, but there was a lot of schadenfreude. It was funny to watch self-satisfied French liberals go into paroxysms of embarrassment as the populist President played up to his people’s basest instincts. It was clearly going to come to a sticky end, which would teach the smug French a lesson. That’s what we all thought, back then. Vanessa noticed what I was reading, and in a tiny voice she said, ‘Oui, it has started.’

David Tennant, in our hurried chat at the police station, told me not to trust the French, and that le Pen was a demon. ‘What’s really going on?’ I asked. ‘What are the French trying to do?’

‘It is not ze French,’ said Vanessa Paradis, defensively. ‘It is ze demons.’

‘Sorry.’

Johnny Depp said, ‘We’re not sure. Have you read the article?’ I shook my head. ‘Well, two weeks ago France cut itself off from Russian gas because le Pen argued with Putin over whose pet dog would win a fight, even though le Pen has a poodle and Putin has, well, basically a wolf.’ I nodded. This had seemed very funny on Have I Got News For You. Johnny carried on, ‘Le Pen said it was insupportable that Asiatic nations held power over France, so Europe must go nuclear, blah, blah, blah. And now, when France actually NEEDS North Sea gas for the first time, le Pen suddenly says that Britain has been stealing from France for decades, via the EU subsidy, and he says France will take its reparations in free gas.’

‘That’s crazy!’ I said.

‘It’s absolutely crazy,’ agreed Johnny. ‘We think he must want an economic crisis, which he’s going to get. He’s already started to blame Russia and the UK for France’s problems. We’ve seen this before.’

‘When?’ Johnny Depp reached past me and clicked another link. This was headlined, MAYOR BORIS ACCUSES GOVERNMENT OF APPEASEMENT. I looked at Johnny, open-mouthed. ‘You’re not saying…?’ Johnny nodded. ‘But le Pen is nothing like Hitler! He’s a joke! France isn’t going to go to war!’ And then another thought struck me. ‘Boris! He’s not, I mean, he can’t be…’

‘Oui,’ said Vanessa. ‘Ze true names of ze man you know as “le Pen” is “Hubris,” one of ze most powerful demons. Ze true name of ze angel “Boris” is “Nemesis.” Always zey have fought, so much zat zere true names have become part of your human language.’

‘So Boris was…’ I couldn’t finish.

‘Yes,’ said Vanessa. ‘It is so obvious I am surprised no one notice already. Boris was Churchill.’