Bix’s Angel by Bob Brill	Table of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2, part 1 appear in this issue.
Chapter 2: 1945 part 2 of 2

He began by telling Duke the story of how Bix had been tapped for the job now assigned to Duke, how he, Gvedn, had been helping Bix turn his life around when he had been recalled by the Continuum.

“I knew when they sent me to Yalora that they would put me through the forgetting treatment. I wrote out a detailed description of the whole experience and hid it where I hoped I’d find it later. They did make me forget, forgot the whole thing for years. Only last week, after fifteen more years in the service of the Continuum, did I find what I wrote. I still don’t remember clearly, but I finally received the message I sent myself and I know that every word is true. The LCA and his gang are totally ruthless.”

“LCA?”

“Local Chief Adjustor. In charge of adjustments in this sector of the universe. It appalled me when I recently found out that they actually started the Duke Ellington project before the Bix project.”

“Why did that appall you?”

“Because that’s not what they told me at the time they dumped Bix. They said that suddenly there was this new plan, the Duke plan, that was going to be such a big timesaver. The truth is they were secretly cultivating you since about 1926, but they came to feel unsure if you were going to prove to be as much of a genius as first predicted. So in 1930 they opened the Bix project, as a backup. Then when they saw that you were going to be a lot likelier than Bix to pan out, and in a shorter time frame, they dumped Bix. They could have kept him going, just to nurture his gift, but genius only means one thing to them, energy for the Continuum. So Bix got dumped and his life went down the drain.

“I was their loyal agent, Duke, and for years I did their bidding. I loved that man Bix, but I followed orders. It wasn’t until last Tuesday, as I sat quietly reading my notes and seeing the whole picture for the first time, that I rebelled. They used Bix, they used me, and they’re using you. And to tell the truth, I’m no longer convinced that the universe can’t get along without our meddling.”

Duke was beginning to believe, but he was still struggling with his skepticism. “How did you know I was on this train? How did you get aboard? How come you’re here and not them?”

“I’m assigned now to local Continuum headquarters. That’s good for me. It keeps me close to the center of the action where I can spy on them. The ones you escaped from beamed into HQ all excited with the news of your escape. They wanted to beam onto the train. But the LCA said no.”

“Beam? What do you mean beam?”

“More off world technology. Instant transportation. If you’re out in the world you can only beam to HQ. From HQ you can beam anywhere. But there’s an uncertainty principle involved. You can pick a spot exactly, but if you do, you can’t be quite sure of the time of arrival. You can fix the time exactly, but then you can’t be quite sure of where you’ll land. So it’s dangerous to beam onto a moving train. If you’re a bit off you might land on the tracks just in front of the train. Or if you miss the train and the train misses you, then it’s back to HQ for another try.

“I heard the LCA tell them to beam to the first scheduled train stop and wait for you there. Very sensible advice. About a dozen agents were dispatched. Some of them will come aboard the train and some of them will wait in the station in case you get off. I knew then that my only chance to rescue you would be to beam onto the train and get you off before we come to Princeton Junction.”

“So you took a big chance.”

“I’m rather experienced at this. Been doing it about five hundred years. Missed my first moving target, a sailing vessel, twenty times in a row. Landed in the water every damn time. Finally gave it up. But now I know how to aim for a spot near the rear of the train. If I miss I won’t be out in front. Anyway I had no choice.”

“Sure you had a choice. You could have chosen to forget about me.”

“No, not after Bix.”

A conductor came through calling out, “Princeton Junction, next stop. Princeton Junction, five minutes.”

“Now here’s the situation, Duke. We’ve killed the tracking device, but that won’t help you until you get away from the train. We have to leave now.”

“I think I hear you saying we have to leave the train while it’s still moving.”

“Yes, that’s it exactly.”

“A person could get killed that way.”

“There is definitely some risk involved. But what we’ll do is wait till the train approaches the station. It’ll be slowing down. You get on the bottom step, look for a clear spot of ground, and jump off running as fast as you can. You’ll tumble, somersault, but probably land in one piece.”

Duke thought of the line from Wesley Wallace’s great boogie woogie record Number 29, about the guy who stepped off a moving freight train as it pulled into East St. Louis. I hauled away and touched one foot on the ground, my heel like knocked my brains out. He must have survived it because then comes the line, I got up and waved my hand and told it goodbye. That gave Duke courage and connected him to the great American tradition of black heroes, hoboes and the restless traveling poor. The surging rhythm of Wallace’s boogie bass came to him loud and clear.

They entered the space between cars and saw that the conductor had already lifted the platform to reveal the steps leading down into the swiftly moving world. Duke stepped down to the bottom step and crouched down, leaning out to look for a good place to land. He looked down and saw the ground rushing away below him. He froze in place.

“I can’t do it,” he said.

“Jump,” said Gvedn. “Think what will happen if they catch you. Jump for your life. And don’t look down. Look ahead. Pick a spot, jump and run like hell. I’ll be right behind you.”

Duke thought of Wesley Wallace waving goodbye to that train number 29. He felt his nerve returning, then he looked down, saw the ground rushing past and froze again.

“Can’t.”

“Got to.”

“Can’t.”

“Okay, we’ll try another way. Follow me quickly.” Gvedn rushed them forward to the front of the train. “You got a hundred dollar bill, Duke?”

“This is getting to be an expensive day.” He handed Gvedn a C note, the last in his wallet.

The engineer driving the train was sealed off in a small cabin. They could see him through a window in the door to the cabin. The door was locked. Gvedn pressed the hundred dollar bill to the window and knocked on the glass. A quick memory flashed though Duke’s mind of the time he wrote Solitude in a recording studio with his manuscript paper pressed up against a glass office partition.

The engineer peered at the bill. He opened the door and said, “Is that for me?”

“Yes,” replied Gvedn, inserting himself into the doorway of the cabin. “It’s yours if you stop the train right now. Just long enough for me and my friend to get off.”

“We’re coming into the station in a few minutes,” replied the engineer. “Just wait a bit and you can get off for nothing.”

“No good. We want this train to stop right now. So here’s the deal.” He pulled out his revolver, waving the money in one hand, the gun in the other. “You stop the train and you can have this hundred dollar bill. You don’t and I’ll blow your goddamn head off and stop the train myself. One way or the other this train is going to stop right now. Your choice.”

The engineer reached for the bill, stuffed it in a pocket and skillfully brought the slowly moving train to a halt.

“Now, Duke,” said Gvedn and they left train together running.

As they trotted through a corn field two shots rang out. They realized that the engineer was shooting at them and they wasted no time in veering off into the woods.

Half an hour later they were sitting in a diner on the edge of town drinking bad coffee.

“What now?” asked Duke.

“After midnight you’re in the clear. The critical moment they need you for will be past and they’ll lose interest in you.”

“What will they do now?”

“Oh, they have other options. They’ll probably go to plan C.”

“What’s plan C?”

“Charlie Parker.”

“Oh my God, what will happen to him?”

“Same as you. I’ll try to save him.”

“What if they catch you? What will happen to you?”

“The forgettery. Or worse.”

“Take care of yourself,” said Duke.

“Thank you, Duke, I’ll do that. It’s been a pleasure to save your ass. I’ve always loved your music. Prelude to a Kiss is my favorite song. May you have a long and fruitful career. Of course, you won’t get any more help from the Continuum, but I don’t think you’ll need it. You’re world famous now and your talent is prodigious.”

“Thanks, old man.”

“Here’s a souvenir of your adventure.” Gvedn handed Duke his bowler hat. “I won’t need this anymore. So long, Duke.” And Gvedn disappeared.

The next day Duke reappeared in Harlem looking jaunty in his new bowler hat. When he entered the rehearsal hall the musicians all crowded round him.

“Where have you been, Duke?”

“How about that hat?”

“Say, that hat you’re wearing, just like the hats on those two little guys hung out here all day yesterday looking for you.”

“Fans of mine.”

“Oh really. Looked more like gangsters. You in trouble with the mob, Duke?”

“It’s okay. It’s been taken care of. What is much more interesting and to the point is I have a new song for you. I call it Princeton Junction. Been up all night writing parts for each and every one of you fine gentlemen.” Duke pulled a thick pile of music from his briefcase and started passing the sheets around.

“Here’s a nice part for you, Rabbit. You’re going to like this. Deacon, here’s yours. Watch out for the tricky bit starting at letter D, third bar. Floorshow, there’s some nice solo space for you, riding out over the reeds. The saxes, the brass, are going to feed each other, play off each other. You’ll see.” Duke slid onto the piano bench and played some introductory chords.

A fresh excitement gripped the musicians as they looked over the new song, which they found to their liking. The business of the hat and Duke’s absence was forgotten. Soon the rehearsal was well under way and the Duke Ellington orchestra was once more engaged in what they did so well, bringing their individual talents together to forge a coherent musical sound. By the end of the day the rhythm Duke had heard in the rumbling train wheels and the melody that rode over it in his head were integrated into the Ellington repertoire. The universe was still out of whack, but Duke was back in the groove.

To be continued...

Copyright © 2007 by Bob Brill