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My first port of call was at the home of the councillor that had placed the advert. The cottage was typical of the area, that is to say square and squat with leaded mullioned windows. The door was wooden and very old. Without seeing a bell, I knocked loudly and waited. The door creaked as it opened.
“Good morning sir. My name’s Beamish, Joseph Beamish of Beamish Pest Control,” I pointed at my van with my name written on the side. “Would you be Councillor Snell?” My question was addressed to a tall elderly man with half-moon spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He was dressed almost entirely in corduroy and looked quite the country gentleman. His attitude however was less than gentlemanly.
“Aye I’m Snell, what do you want?” He spat the words at me, clearly the councillor was a man of little patience with a lot on his mind.
“I’ve come to assist with your rat problem,” I smiled as sincerely I could manage whilst waving the advert that had been posted in the local paper.
“Oh, right you are. Best come in then.” He was reluctant but I had piqued enough of his curiosity to be admitted.
I followed Snell into a sitting room with a low beamed ceiling. A fire was smouldering in a dusty grate. The place was shabby. When built it would have been marketed by a canny estate agent, if such a profession had existed in the 1700’s, as a Hovel for the upwardly mobile. In the twenty-first century it had at least gained electricity and indoor plumbing, but it had probably not been decorated since the early 1980’s. The wallpaper was peeling and old papers were strewn about the room. It was a typical bachelor pad. No self-respecting lady would have tolerated such a mess or for that matter Councillor Snell. I knew though that this kind of surface poverty concealed the depth of wealth of a successful miser. It was the kind of wealth I was interested in acquiring.
Snell explained that the village centre was overrun with rats. They had suddenly appeared about six weeks ago and now they were out of control. They were in people’s larders; they were chewing through beer barrels at the pub. The children were frightened to go to school as the rodents were running riot through the classrooms. It was putting off the tourists and something had to be done. They’d tried traps, poison, even men with terriers but it had done no good. The rats were becoming more numerous and the people of the village demanded action. In desperation the parish council had advertised for a pest controller to save the village.
The advert had mentioned a sizeable reward for success. I had a sizeable figure in mind.
“I’m sure I can help,” I said. “No need to pay me the £10,000 now, I’ll dispose of the rats and then you can pay me so you’re sure I’ve solved the problem. If I fail then no charge.” Snell was dubious.
“Ten grand what will you do to the blighters, paint them in gold?” I tried another sincere smile to try and reassure him.
“Standard fee for my patent method Mr Snell. It has been developed over many years and is scientifically proven.” If he was impressed he didn’t show it. “I offer you a guarantee of total satisfaction. No-one else in the country offers such generous terms. If there’s a single rat left in the village once I’m done you’ll pay nothing.” His eyes widened when I explained that he might not have to pay. He scratched his chin, weighing up my offer, balancing the no win, no fee guarantee, against the not inconsiderable financial cost of success.
“Alright on you go then, get started.”
I drove down to the village green. It was located in the centre of the old community. The medieval coaching inn was on one side with the impressive gothic church and school on the other. I unloaded my mini digger and set to work. In the centre of the green I began to dig. It took a few hours, by the time I had finished the sun was low in the sky and the shadows stretched across the green. For my efforts I had a hole ten feet deep and of twenty feet diameter. At the bottom of the hole I carefully placed my special device. It was a small silver box with a speaker in its centre. It looked nondescript but was very powerful. It was the solution to their problems, or the start of a whole lot of new ones. They would ultimately decide which and I chuckled to myself at the thought.
All this activity had attracted quite a crowd, it seemed most of the village had turned out to watch. They created a low hum as they chatted amongst themselves, confused at what I was doing, but curious, nonetheless.
I was climbing out of the hole as I came face to feet with Councillor Snell. I looked from his green Hunter wellingtons up to his confused face.
“What’s all this malarkey then?” I climbed to meet him face to face before explaining what he would be getting for his money.
“Simple Mr Snell, very simple. I place my special patented device at the bottom of the hole there,” I pointed to the bottom of the hole. “I activate it using this remote control here.” I pulled a small control pad from my pocket and showed him. “The rats are then attracted to the device; they just can’t help themselves. When they’re in the hole, we turn on the water and hey presto they drown.” Snell was not convinced the solution could be so simple after all they had tried before, but before he could protest I activated the device.
At first nothing happened. The crowd looked at each other and whispered, Councillor Snell folded his arms.
“Well Beamish?”
As the words left his mouth rats suddenly appeared from all directions. They scurried out of every building racing across the grass. Soon the green was a heaving mass of tiny four-legged grey bodies. The crowd scattered screaming as the rats raced headlong into the hole. I picked up the hose pipe and whistling a jolly tune, began to fill the hole with water. The device floated but the rats did not. In a matter of minutes every one of them was dead, their squeaks forever silenced. I switched off the device and turned to Councillor Snell. He was opened mouthed, completely in shock at what he had just witnessed. He wasn’t the only one, the rest of the villagers were amazed as well. Then they began to clap and cheer. Expressing relief as their rodent infestation nightmare was over.
“There we are, I’ll dispose of the corpses humanely and then I’ll take your payment. Cash is preferred.”
“Hold on a minute,” replied Snell. “Is that it? Dig a hole and drown them!”
“Yes, it’s very effective don’t you agree?”
“That’s not worth ten grand!” Snell was red in the face. Maybe he felt I’d humiliated him, tricked him in some way by getting rid of the rat problem so easily. “We won’t pay ten grand, £50 quid that’s our final offer.” I was taken aback. I turned slowly to face him.
“I don’t think you understand Mr Snell.”
“Oh I understand very well Beamish.” Snell was now playing to his crowd. “These rodents suddenly appear out of nowhere, and then you conveniently show up and get rid of them in five minutes charging the Earth!” The crowd murmured their approval, they’d forgotten the days digging apparently. “You’ll not get ten thousand off us. How do we know you didn’t bring the rats here in the first place?” The crowd was getting restless. There was a danger of the situation getting ugly. They were all siding with Snell. I tried to placate him.
“Look we had an agreement councillor. I’ve solved your rat problem. I asked for nothing in advance, just payment on completion of the job.” I kept very calm wary of provoking the crowd. I wondered if to bargain, accept a lower price. On reflection I thought not. Stepping closer I whispered in a low voice. “I’ll warn you just the once Mr Snell. If you decide not to pay me the agreed price there will be unfortunate consequences.”
“Do what you like, here’s your £50.” He threw some notes at me and they fluttered to the floor. He turned on his heel and walked away. The crowd dispersed, chatting laughing and pointing, enjoying my humiliation in the late evening sunshine. I crouched to pick up the notes and as they walked away I smiled to myself. Time for a little revenge then. I actually preferred it this way. They had made their choice. I gazed towards the school next to the church.
The following day the children arrived in dribs and drabs for Sunday School. I watched from my van as they waved goodbye to their parents. The adults went into the church, the good god-fearing country folk they were. I laughed aloud at my good fortune. The feast of St John and St. Paul. This was a 26th June they would not forget for a long time.
Before I could complete my plans I made a tour of the village. I let myself into a number of homes, helping myself to a few valuables to cover my costs. Councillor Snell had a number of very valuable items of gold jewellery that would leave me a tidy profit once sold. I smiled as I returned to my van.
At 11am precisely the children tumbled out into the playground. They laughed and shouted with joy as they played, waiting for the church service to finish and their parents to return. The bells of the church began their peal. It was time.
On the passenger seat was my device. I chose a new setting and switched it on. Immediately the children stopped frozen to the spot. Expressions wiped from their faces, they gazed into the distance unseeing.
At that moment, the congregation poured out of the church. It took them a moment to take in the scene before them. There were a few moments silence before the shouting began. Cries of concern rippled from the crowd. Parents tried to run towards their zombie like children. I pressed another button on my control and they suddenly became glued to the spot.
I climbed down from the van and walked towards the church gate. It opened with a creak. I stared at the frightened faces of the congregation. I picked out Snell, desperately pulling at his legs, trying to free them from the invisible force holding them fast. I called to him.
"Last chance Snell. I am a fair man. If you pay up now, I will release you all and you'll never see me again. If not, then the consequences are on your head."
"Go to hell you B£$%&*%d."
These types were all the same. Lords of their tiny manors, too proud to back down, unwilling to make any compromise to save face. Their pride always cost them in the end. It was the secret of my success.
"So be it."
I pressed another button on the control pad. The children turned and began to walk towards my van. I climbed back into the cab, started the engine and began to drive slowly up the hill towards the moor above the village. The children followed marching in silence, immune to the cries of their anguished parents that faded into the distance.
Up the hill we went, a silent army marching to an unknown fate. Further ever further onto the moor, into the wilderness. I imagined the scene in the village. Desperate parents slowly freeing themselves from their paralysis, hunting for their children. Shouts and screams, hysterical tears when they couldn’t be found. The realisation when suddenly recall the arrogance of the unfortunate Councillor Snell. The arguments, the retribution and the sickening realisation that they were powerless. The children had gone. My smile was broad.
Miles from anywhere we reached our destination. In this remote and forgotten spot high on the moor there was a cave entrance. It was almost totally obscured by nettles and long grass. This did not stop my army. In they went one after another, marching into oblivion. As the last child entered I used my digger to push a huge stone across the entrance trapping them forever. I pressed a button on the control.
The spell was suddenly broken. I heard the screams as the hungry rats began their meal. Thirty children would last them quite a while. I have to keep my own children fed after all.
I studied my map looking for the next village to have a sudden rodent infestation. Always make sure to select one with a school and church.
Anyway, remember my friends, don’t be selfish and don’t be greedy. Always keep your promises.
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