A Cure for Cancer

I Stream and die, European commie homos, in Yank 'cleanse and burn' offensive

It wasn't far to Derry and Toms, but the napalm was coming on heavy as Jerry drove west to the sound of Ronald Boyle's recorded voice booming in even tones from loud speakers mounted in every flying thing. BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER The day was grey; the sunlight blocked by the planes whose steady roar echoed through the city. BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER The napalm sheets kept falling.

BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER Jerry waited impatiently at Knightsbridge for the lights to change. Several buildings, including the recently rebuilt barracks of the Royal Horse Guards, were beginning to burn.

BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER BURN OUT THE CANCER He decided to go through the park and turned right. As he did so the first B52s came in low, streaming clouds of defoliants and making a thick fog that reduced visibility to a few feet.

Jerry slowed down and switched to his own air supply, turned his most powerful lamps into the swirling white mist, and kept going. He could see just far enough ahead to avoid hitting any large obstacles. Derry and Toms was in Sector D-7 and this was Sector G-6. Depending on their sweep, he had a little time before they started on D-7.

He was, as ever, impressed by the efficiency of the strike. By tomorrow, London should be completely Triple A Clean. His brother, with his liking for systems and his knowledge of London, had probably had a lot to do with the planning.

As the mist thinned a little he looked up, recognizing the hazy silhouettes of a squadron of General Dynamics F-111As lumbering across the sky followed by McDonnell F-4B Phantom 11s, F-4C Phantom 11s, RF-4 Phantom 11s, F-101B Voodoos, F-101iC Voodoos, Republic F-105 Thunderchiefs, Ling-Temco-Vought (Chance Vought) F-8U Crusaders, Convair F-106 Delta Darts, Lockheed F-104 Starfighters, Convair F-102 Delta Daggers, Northrop F-5A Freedom Fighters, Ling-Temco-Vought A-7A Corsair 11s, North American F-100 Super Sabres, North American FJ Furies, Douglas F-6A Skyrays, Grumman F11A Tigers, McDonnell M-3B Demons, Northrop F-89 Scorpions, North American F-86D Sabres and, very much behind the others, Republic F-84F Thunderstreaks doing their best to keep up.

The planes passed and the helicopters chattered by. As far as Jerry could make out they were all heading due north, which meant that Derry and Toms, if it so far missed the strike, would probably be okay for a little while.

He took a bearing off the Albert Memorial and bumped over the dying grass until he splashed into the Round Pond by accident and had to operate the screws for an instant as he crossed tne pond and at last got to The Broad Walk near the London Museum, drove down The Broad Walk and came out on to a Kensington Road that was red with reflected firelight, but seemed as yet undamaged, though clouds of sodium cacodylate mixed with free cacodylic acid, water and sodium chloride drifted in the streets.

Elsewhere Jerry recognized n-butyl ester, isobutyl ester, tri-isopropanolamine, salt picloram and other chemicals and he knew that the park had got everything — Orange, Purple, White and Blue.

'Better safe than sorry.' He pulled up outside Deny and Toms.

Business appeared to have fallen off badly in the last few hours, though it was relatively peaceful here. In the distance Jerry heard the sound of falling buildings, the scream of rockets, the boom of the bombs, the shouts of the dying.

A boy and a girl ran out of the smoke, hand in hand, as he entered the store; they were on fire, making for the drinking fountain on the corner of Kensington Church Street.

The fire would probably help cope with the plague.

There was nothing like the chance of a fresh start.

2 The man behind the face that 350 million TV viewers know as The Saint

Although the defoliants hadn't yet reached the roof garden, there was a strong chemical smell as Jerry used his vibragun to shake down the door of an emergency exit and emerge into the Tudor Garden.

He wondered at first if the machine's batteries had started to leak. They had been manufactured hastily, for the machine had originally been intended only as a prototype. It was Jerry's fault that he had tried it out in the Shifter and had lost it in the ensuing confusion.

Jerry placed the odour at last. It was Dettol.

The disinfectant had been used to hide another smell which he now recognized as the smell of corruption. It would have been good for the garden, of course, if things had been left alone. He wondered who had been here recently.

Everything was tidy and there wasn't a trace of an old lady. Jerry noticed with disappointment that the ducks had flown.

He wandered across to the Spanish Garden, watching as the blue heaven gradually filled with black smoke, and climbed the wall to look at the burning city and the insane jets wheeling about the sky in their dance of death. Napalm fell. Rockets raced.

'Out of time, out of touch,' murmured Jerry. It was what his father had always taught him. He didn't often feel this complacent. 'Good-bye, America.'

'Europe,' said a voice with a thick Russian resonance, 'can become the ultimate possibility pool. You're slowing down, Comrade Cornelius.'

Jerry shifted his position on the wall and looked down at the little man standing among the flowering ferns and dwarf palms, tugging at his goatee. 'You've been taking speech training.'

The man looked embarrassed and removed his rimless glasses. 'I can't stay long.'

Is my machine here?'

'That's what I came to tell you about, comrade. I didn't think it was safe. I gave it to a friend of yours to look after. She was here until recently.'

'Captain Hargreaves?'

'I didn't realize, until she put on her uniform, that she was with the defenders.'

'Do you know where she is?'

'Presumably with the rest of her comrades, wherever that may be.'

'You've never been able to do anything right, have you, you old softie.' Jerry jumped down from the wall. 'Ah, well. It was nice of you to tell me.'

'I'm sure everything will work out all right. Won't it?'

'Keep your fingers crossed, comrade.'

The little man extended his hand. 'Well, if I don't see you again.' He vanished.

Jerry yawned. He was getting behind in his sleep. He left the roof garden as the first wave of planes arrived in Sector D-7, leapt down the stairs as the building began to shake, and reached the street as spluttering napalm flooded through the store.

He drove down Kensington High Street as fast as he could. He hoped Koutrouboussis and the rest were okay. If they'd been able to get out they should be safe enough at the Sunny-dale Reclamation Centre.

He didn't feel particularly disappointed. After all, things had gone very easily up to now.

He made for Milton Keynes.