Herbert Mastingly balanced precariously upon the point of the mansionsÂ’ shale roof that perched, lonely like a nest, upon the mountaintop. Swaying with the wind, he adjusted the radar antennae until it arced, scanning the winter sky like a fishermanÂ’s net cast between Andromeda and Pleiades. Juggling a small bag of tools he withdrew a small screen, which he nurtured to his chest. With the flick of a switch it beeped, registering a fluorescent pebble that crawled across the screen. Herbert smiled wickedly, now he was happyÂ…

     The ice made the climb precarious. HeÂ’d slipped several times on the ascent from the lower level to the upper-level roof, and that was the easy part! From the attic window to the lower level it was tricky. Summersault–half-pike-twist-traversal to the first level. A climb down to the base of the upper roof - crawling, crawling - until the ledge, where snow accumulated and the gutters froze with chilling ice. It was here that he slippedÂ… wobbled dangerously before reaching the ladder with a desperate lunge. "Phew!" Herbert paused briefly to catch his breath, then continued his slow ascent ‘til he rested on the chimney.     His mitten hands still frozen, he cupped them to the screen absorbing the minuscule heat from its fluorescence.

     "MuahahahÂ…Happy Humbug!" HerbertÂ’s laugh echoed across the valley.

     "MuahahahÂ…Happy Humbug!" a voice replied from far beneath where a strange figure danced within the hearth of a grand fireplace of Mastingly Manor, sending clouds of acrid soot upward, spewing out the chimney.

     "Malakai!" Herbert shouted as he waved the soot away from his face.

     "Yes master? Yes master?"

     "Stop it!"

     "Yes master, yes master"

     Malakai was a strange figure of a man, and if you were to look at him youÂ’d think instantly of a Pixie or perhaps a Sprite, yet nobody ever made that connection for it was his eyes that drew attention. They were large and round, like luminescent yellow saucers, and they never seemed to blink, which made your eyes water if you looked into them to long. He had shiny black pupils that wobbled mesmerically as he spoke. And the more he spoke, the more those eyes would capture you, and youÂ’d find yourself agreeing with anything and everything he said. Malakai used this trick to great effect, which explains his meeting with Herbert, almost a year ago today.

     It was the 26^th of December and Herbert was seated alone at the bar of the Penitent Pony, cursing his absent-minded relatives whoÂ’d forgotten, once again, to invite him to Christmas dinner.

     "ChristmasÂ…Bah humbug!" he mumbled into his drink.

     "Bah humbug!" a voice answered.

     Herbert looked about him at the bar, which was empty except for the publican who was polishing spirit bottles with an old rag.

     "Excuse me," said Herbert. "Did you say something?"

     The barman looked toward Herbert with a vacant expression and shrugged his shoulders.

     "Another pint sir?" he asked.

     "Humbug! Humbug! Humbug!" repeated the phantom voice.

     "You said it again!"

     The publican looked at Herbert with a tight-lipped smile as he placed the beer upon the bar.

     "Two pounds twenty thank you SirÂ… and perhaps that should be the last one."

     Herbert turned suddenly toward his seat, tripping over something and falling to the floor. When he sat up was eye to eye with a small old man.

     "Me suit! Me darn fine suit!" the man growled as he brushed down his suit.

     Herbert picked himself up from the floor then reached to help him to his feet and their eyes metÂ…

     Time stopped and the world seemed to freeze as he looked into those eyes. They grew larger, drawing him closer as he followed their whirlpool movement. Next he heard the sound of distant incantations, and it seemed as though his mind was swimming through an infinite sea until he heard the sound of clicking fingers. Click, clickÂ…He was at the door of Mastingly Manor, and he had the sudden urge to prepare the guest bedroom for the old man, who followed in his wake.

Chapter 2

     Herbert woke the next morning with a clouded head.

     "To much beer. Such strange dreams!" he groaned as he wandered down the stairs to for breakfast.

     For most people the preparation of breakfast is a simple task. Toast, eggs, bacon, coffee, orange juice. Add a toaster, a fry pan and a cooker - Et voila! Breakfast is served.

     Herbert was not like most people in this regard for he was no ordinary person, you see, Herbert was an inventor. A great inventor! An extraordinary inventor!

     HerbertÂ’s aim was to take simple tasks and make them simple by converting them to binary instructions. He fed these into his computer, BUD (Binary Understanding Device), who commanded the amazing devices, which ran about Mastingly Manor.

     A series of 1Â’sÂ’and 0Â’s darted about the room at supersonic speed as Herbert flicked a switch. "Brr, Brr, Brr," BUD hummed as he woke with his cybernetic version of a yawn.

     "Good Morning Sir," Bud greeted him.

     Herbert responded with a grunt.

     "A pleasant sleep I trustÂ…Shall it be your usual cooked breakfast?"

     "Extra bacon," grunted Herbert, whose nose was now buried in the morning paper.

     In the background, a small army of cogs and gears whirred as they began to spin. The conveyor hummed as the cooker switched itself on. The fry pan lowered itself to the hotplate and the cappuccino machine gurgled and steamed in the background.

     Herbert continued to read - oblivious to the frantic activity. Two sausages made their way across the bench top, dropping into the fry pan where they sizzled gently beside fried eggs that flipped themselves at the appointed time. The toaster popped, sending two pieces of lightly browned bread flying through the air, onto HerbertÂ’s plate. The kitchen smelt of sweet honey cured frying bacon as the computer continued its cheery banter.

     "TodayÂ’s forecast is for early fog to clear by mid-morning, to reveal a partly cloudy day with a top temperature of five degrees Celsius."

     "The stocks" Herbert interjected.

     "Starting in New York. The top movers overnight were ADT up 40, Unisco up 35, CBA downÂ…"

     "Humbug," said a voice.

     Herbert looked toward the BudÂ’s monitor.

     "What did you say?" he bellowed.

     "CBA down 20 points following news," continued Bud.

     "You said Humbug!" Herbert demanded.

     If it is possible for a computer to look confused and to shrug its shoulders then that is exactly the effect conveyed by BudÂ’s pause before he continuedÂ…

     "CBA down 20 points following."

     "You said Humbug!" demanded Herbert. His chubby red face glowed with fury as he punched the table.

     "Humbug it did!" snapped the old man from across the table.

     "WhhhaÂ…Whaaaa!" Herbert spluttered.

     The man was washed and dressed in HerbertÂ’s oversized flannel dressing gown. He picked at fluff from HerbertÂ’s monogrammed slippers as placed his feet upon the table.

     "WhhhaÂ…Whaaaa!"

     "I said Humbug!" said the small man with a grin, then he took a sausage from HerbertÂ’s plate and chewed it noisily as Herbert looked on in furious amazement.

     "I thought you were a dream!" shouted Herbert.

     "A dream? A dream indeed! Are you telling me you donÂ’t remember our deal?" asked the man with a grin.

     "Deal?" responded Herbert.

     "We had a deal, and IÂ’m sure youÂ’ll remember if you try," he said as he stared into his eyes, which began to spin. Like a whirlpool they spun faster and faster. Herbert stopped mid-sentence, transfixed as a section of his mind awoke and suddenly he remembered a long, involved conversation with the man. It all flooded back.

     "Yes," Herbert said slowly. "We talked about a plotÂ…A plot to kidnapÂ…"

Chapter 3

     Nicholas sat heavily into the rich leather chair, selecting his finest port tobacco from a soft leather satchel, which he rolled into a ball, then pushed it into the chamber of his red wooden pipe. He reclined, placing his heavy leather boots onto the desk then he flicked his thumb, which caused a steady yellow flame to appear. He placed his thumb to the pipe and drew back slowly until puffs of sweet smelling smoke filled the room.

     It had been another busy year. The latest census told him the population had increased at 8.0% worldwide, with 40% of that growth from India and China alone. Growth rates had slowed in the United States, Australia and throughout most of Europe, which was good. Yet 24,000,000 more people meant 24,000,000 new presents – a challenge indeed! Even for him!

     He sucked gently at his pipe and synchronized the palm pilot to his computer then he downloaded The List.

     Nicholas prodded the screen several times to ensure the hyper-links were workingÂ…The tracking systems were the first to indicate systems were on-line, followed by the GPS. Next he waited for temporal distortion monitor. It flashed "WaitingÂ…Waiting" until at last it too came on-line. The batteries in the cloaking device flashed, indicating they were charged then he ran one further self-diagnostic, just to be sure, before placing the palm pilot back into its cradle and wandering over to the cabinet for a quick tipple of brandy.

     Nicholas stood before a mirror with his brandy. He slapped his rosy red cheeks and preened his flowing beard before adjusting his shiny leather belt as he held his hands to his ample belly. "Ho! Ho! Ho!" he bellowed as he placed his hat upon his head that jingled as he walked back over to the desk. He leaned over to reach the intercom and pressed the button.

    "Malakai, Is everything ready?"

     "ItÂ’s Norbert Sir," a high pitched voice responded.

     "WhereÂ’s Malakai?"

     "I donÂ’t know Sir. He didnÂ’t sign in and I havenÂ’t seen him about all day."

     "That is a worry," said Nicholas, shaking his head. "Bring the sleigh round the front and join me there in five minutesÂ…And tell Malakai heÂ’s in trouble when he turns up!"

     "Sure boss!"