The Middle Child of the Secret of the Lost Gavel

Donnie awoke and focussed on the side of the ring. He was being tended by The Cobbler. Rambozo was in the ring making short work of his opponents.

He frowned at The Cobbler, a twinge of recognition in his eyes.

‘Do you have a son?’

The Cobbler pulled back slightly, eyes averted.

‘Yes.’

‘Marcus,’ said Donnie guessing correctly.

‘That’s our family name,’ she said with a half-disapproving, half sad glance. ‘We haven’t spoken in… years. He never forgave me for those ballet lessons as a boy.’

A body bounced off the ropes above them and was pulled away by Rambozo, who laughed heartily.

‘“Mum,” he used to say, “Why Ballet?”’ she said, then explained further. ‘So I said it’s good for fitness and flexibility, and if he was going to join the family business…’

She became sad again.

‘Last time we spoke, he was so upset he didn’t even say ‘Mum’ to me…’

‘Oh?’

‘He was so angry that I’d decided to marry Rambozo.’

‘“Emelda,” he said. “You’re throwing your life away in the ring with him”’

Donnie’s ear screeched at him – a message from Prime.

‘Do you know about The Lost Gavel,’ he asked.

Emelda blinked at Donnie, shock on her face before nodding silently.

‘It was the only thing that was left,’ she said. ‘After it happened…’

‘The trial?’

‘After the world changed,’ she said, ‘After we arrived here–’

She leaned down and retrieved a box from her kit-bag.

‘We take it everywhere with us,’ she said. ‘To remind us of where we’re from. Where he’s from…’

She stared up at Freddy McWarickson’s face which had slammed down onto the canvas nearby. Through the haze of pain, Freddy saw her open the box and reveal the gavel.

‘Fuck me,’ said Freddy, and was yanked suddenly upwards by Rambozo.

‘Don’t swear around my wife you blackguard!’ roared Rambozo and gave Freddy a right forearm to the chest.

‘The Lost Gavel,’ breathed Donnie and lifted it from its box. He saw a small brass plate attached to the handle.

‘Justice McWarickson, 1982,’ read Donnie. ‘He’s a Judge?!’

* * *