* * *
By the time we reached the entrance point marked on my map, the cold was back and the wind was rising again. It turned out to be a single square hatch, securely bolted on the inside. I knelt down beside it, and Molly craned over my shoulder.
“What is it, Eddie? A fire exit, or maybe an inspection hatch?”
“It’s our way in.”
“If Cassandra really can predict the future, there’s probably a whole army of security guards down there waiting for us.”
“Good,” I said. “I feel like hitting a whole bunch of people.”
I armoured up one arm and ripped the steel plate away. The closed bolts sheared clean through, the hinges flew away like shrapnel, and the steel plate crumpled in my grip like tinfoil. I tossed it to one side, and it clattered loudly away across the desk. I barely heard it over the rising wind. I peered down through the opening, couldn’t see anything, and dropped down into the corridor below. I landed easily and looked quickly around, but there was no one waiting. I wasn’t sure whether I felt relieved or disappointed. Molly dropped down, landing as lightly as a cat beside me. I armoured down my arm, not wanting to draw unwanted attention, and considered my new surroundings.
Steel bulkheads everywhere, with all kinds of pipes and conduits, but no frills or fancies. Just a loud background hum of straining machinery, as though only a constant effort from the hidden alien technology held the Secret Headquarters this high in the air. I set off along the corridor, following the map in my head and moving deeper into the flying ship. Molly strode along beside me, looking happily around like a tourist on a day out. I was glad she could still enjoy the game; the mission had gone sour for me. I just wanted it over and done with.
“Do you need to call up your armour again to check the map?” said Molly after a while. “Only we do seem to have taken rather a lot of turns without actually getting anywhere.”
“I know where I’m going,” I said. “I memorized the route.”
“You always say that, and I always end up having to ask people for directions.”
“Only because you don’t have my sense of direction.”
“Oh come on! You can get lost trying to find the bathroom in the middle of the night!”
She was trying to cheer me up. I played along as best I could.
“So, how far is it now?” said Molly. “To wherever it is we’re going?”
“You didn’t read the briefing notes on the plane, did you?”
Molly sniffed. “I have you for that. I had some important beauty sleep to be getting on with.”
“According to the map, there should be a communications centre up ahead. That’s why we came in through that particular hatch. We can use their computers to find the source of Cassandra’s predictions.”
I stopped abruptly, and Molly stopped with me. A large group of uniformed people were bustling down the corridor, straight at us, chatting loudly together. Molly looked at me.
“Do you want me to whip up some kind of invisibility spell? My magics are only just returning, but I should be able to manage something basic.”
“No need,” I said. “Just look confident. If we act like we belong here, they’ll assume we do. On a ship this big, they can’t know everyone.”
“What if somebody does challenge us?”
“Then I get to hit a whole bunch of people after all.”
“Suits me,” said Molly.
Sure enough, when the uniformed technical people finally reached us, they were too wrapped up in their own conversations to pay us any attention at all. I walked straight at them, Molly stuck close to my side, and the crowd just parted automatically to let us through. I nodded briefly to anyone who glanced in our direction, and they nodded back and kept going. Sometimes confidence is the best weapon a spy has.
The communications centre turned out to be just a few minutes away. There was even a helpful sign on the door. No one standing guard, no obvious security. Some people don’t deserve to have secrets. I kicked the door open and barged in, Molly right behind me. Half a dozen technical staff looked up, startled. I was about to armour up, when Molly barked out the single word “Sleep!” and they all fell fast asleep at their posts. A few of them even snored gently. Molly looked at me suddenly.
“Oh I’m sorry, Eddie! Did you still need to hit someone? I could always wake them up again.”
“Thanks for the thought,” I said, “but the moment’s passed. Stand by the door and keep an ear out while I check this place over.”
That she didn’t give me any grief for giving her orders was a sign of how concerned she still was about me. She just nodded and looked out into the corridor while I examined the communications equipment. It all seemed standard enough. I chose a likely looking terminal, armoured up my hand, and sent tendrils of golden strange matter sneaking into the system to override its restrictions and corrupt its programming. My armour can do many amazing things, and I don’t understand half of them. Mind you, I feel the same way about most of the cars I drive. The ship’s main computer couldn’t have been more helpful, answering questions almost before I could ask them. It still took a while to dig out the information I needed. Long enough for Molly to get bored at her post and wander back to join me.
“I’m still not clear on what we’re looking for here.”
“The secret of Cassandra’s success,” I said patiently. “Whether it’s a what, or a who. Hmm . . . according to this, Cassandra’s been selling future information for only about eight months. So whatever it is, they haven’t had it long. What do you think, alien tech, or some gifted psychic? Remember the little old lady I told you about, the one at Lark Hill who could listen to the whole country at once?”
“If there was anyone like that here, I’d feel it,” said Molly. “I suppose it could be some kind of divination, powered by blood sacrifice.”
“Trust you to think of something like that,” I said.
“I’ve been around,” she said airily. “I’ve seen things.”
“I’m sure you have.”
The computer made a series of agreeable sounds, indicating that my armour had tickled it in all the right places, and it was now ready to spill the beans. Except, the computer didn’t actually know the source of Cassandra’s predictions. Apparently, such knowledge was limited to upper-management personnel only. But the computer did know where the source was. It even printed out a map for me, without having to be asked. I withdrew my golden tendrils and shut the terminal down. Molly pored over the map.
“Not far, just a few corridors down. Nothing here about security measures, though . . .”
“Bound to be some, but there was nothing listed in the computer,” I said. “And trust me, I looked. Doesn’t matter. I’ll set my armour against anything Cassandra can put up. I mean, look around; it’s not exactly state of the art here, is it?”
“Maybe most of their budget went on some really nasty hidden security,” Molly said darkly.
I took the map and headed for the door, and then stopped so suddenly, Molly almost ran into me. I looked back at the sleeping members of the tech staff, still slumped in their seats.
“They will all wake up again, on their own, won’t they?”
“Oh sure,” said Molly. “Eventually.”
“What if they don’t?”
“Then someone had better put a wall of thorns around them and hope for a handsome prince.”
* * *
We headed briskly through the narrow steel corridors, looking so in charge that everyone we met en route just naturally hurried to get out of our way. It’s all down to the walk. When we finally arrived at the right location, the empty corridor stretching away before us seemed entirely unremarkable. No one around, no signs or numbers on any of the doors. I counted them off until we were standing before the door marked on the map. Nothing about it to suggest it held anything specia
l. Presumably, that was the point. Still, no guards on duty, no obvious surveillance . . . I didn’t like it. It’s always the defences you don’t spot that end up ruining your day.
“You’d think they’d at least have a few warm bodies standing around,” said Molly. “Someone to shout, Who goes there? and wave a gun around in a menacing manner.”
“Oh, I’m sure someone’s on guard,” I said. “We’re just not seeing them. Don’t touch the door!”
“I wasn’t going to! This isn’t my first burglary. And don’t you shout at me, Eddie Drood! I was just getting a feel for the surroundings.”
It felt good to have things back to normal between us.
“You go right ahead,” I said. “Don’t let me stop you. Feel things.”
She carefully considered the door with her witchy Sight, and then its immediate surroundings. She scowled, and shrugged unhappily.
“There’s something here, but it’s really well hidden. I’ll try a spell to force hidden things to reveal themselves.”
“Have you got enough magic for something like that?” I said carefully.
“Just about. I’ve been running on fumes ever since the Monk shut me down, but it’s coming back.”
She did the business, with a minimum of chanting and arm waving, and just like that, the security measure was hovering right there in front of us. A single massive eyeball, floating on the air, it was so big that it blocked the corridor all on its own. Complete with a pair of eyelids that were currently closed. The skin was a pale blue, with dark straggling veins. I edged around the giant eyeball in a complete circle, being very careful not to touch or disturb it, but somehow no matter where I was, it was always facing me.
“What the hell is it?” I said after I’d run out of anything else to do. I did think about prodding the eyeball with a golden finger, but I couldn’t convince myself that was a good idea.
“If that is what I think it is—and I’m pretty sure it is—we are in deep doo-doo,” said Molly.
“It’s never good when you use language like that,” I said. “Okay, hit me with the bad news.”
“It’s a basilisk’s eyeball,” said Molly. “Removed from its host, almost certainly without permission; greatly enlarged and then weaponized for sentry duty. If the eyelids open, it will quite definitely kill everything it looks at.”
“Let’s try to avoid that, then,” I said. “Any idea what might set it off?”
“Well, making it visible probably didn’t help,” said Molly. “I mean, we walked right through it when we didn’t know it was there, and it didn’t care. Now . . . probably any unauthorized contact with the door will wake it up in a hurry. But, Eddie, there is no way Cassandra could have done this on its own. This is specialist work.”
“It still settled for just the one eyeball.”
“That’s like saying just the one nuke! My point is, Cassandra must have contracted out for security, and weaponized supernatural body parts don’t come cheap. If Cassandra could afford to set something this nasty on guard duty, it must be making serious money . . .”
“If we should happen to wake it up,” I said carefully, “could your magics protect you?”
“In my current condition, probably not,” Molly said reluctantly.
“So . . . let sleeping giant eyeballs lie?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
I did think about armouring up, but just my armour’s presence might be enough to trigger a response. So I edged past the eyeball to stand before the door. Molly edged round from the other side, hugging the wall. I looked the door over. No obvious booby traps, and just a standard lock. I couldn’t believe it would be that simple, that easy, so, when in doubt, go sneaky. I knelt down and sent just a trickle of golden armour running down my shoulder and arm, and into the lock. I tensed, but there was no reaction from the eyeball. I concentrated, and my armour unlocked the door in a moment. I withdrew the tendrils, straightened up, and flashed Molly an encouraging smile.
“Piece of cake.”
I opened the door, and every alarm in the world went off at once. The eyelids snapped open, and the eyeball swivelled round to focus on its closest target, which was Molly. I didn’t have time to do anything but jump between her and the eyeball, subvocalising my activating Words as I moved. The armour leapt out of my torc as the basilisk looked at me, and a terrible light blazed up, filling the corridor and dazzling me even through my mask. A great force erupted from the eye, fierce and wild and deadly. It hit my armour, rebounded, and slammed into the eyeball. The lids slumped shut again, the eyeball shook all over, and then it fell to the floor. Landing hard, and somewhat squishily. The alarms all went quiet, as though embarrassed. I blinked several times until my eyes cleared, and then glanced over my shoulder. Molly was still behind me, unharmed. I armoured down, and she punched me hard in the shoulder.
“Ow!” I said. “What was that for?”
“For protecting me!” she said. “I can look after myself!” And then she grabbed me and kissed me hard. “Thanks for the thought, though.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “But next time, can we go straight to the kissing?”
Molly looked at me thoughtfully. “Did you know your armour could protect you from the basilisk’s stare?”
“Of course,” I lied.
* * *
I led the way through the open door. Molly immediately pushed past me, just to make a point. And then we both stopped dead in our tracks. A large cage, made entirely of silver bars, took up most of the room. A pentacle, old-school and intricate, had been painted on the floor, surrounding the cage. I could feel a presence on the air, a terrible power, barely restrained. It was like staring at the door to a massive furnace and wondering if it might leap open at any moment.
I looked at Molly. “Any ideas?”
“This is bad,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what they’ve done here, but . . . bad, Eddie. Seriously not good.”
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go take a closer look.”
“A man after my own heart,” said Molly.
The cage looked to be some twenty feet on a side, each silver bar so thick, I would have had trouble closing my hand around it. Inside the cage, a man sat slumped in one corner, paying no attention to us. Just an ordinary man in shabby clothes, his head lowered so I couldn’t see his face. He had to know we were there, but he didn’t even raise his head to acknowledge our presence. I looked around the cage, but there was no sign of a door anywhere. It was as though the cage had been constructed around him, with no plan of ever letting him out again. Was this the goose that laid golden futures? I reached for the bars, and Molly suddenly grabbed my arm to stop me. When I looked at her, Molly’s face was pale with something very much like shock.
“What is it?” I said, keeping my voice down. Even though the man looked completely out of it, something about him suggested it wouldn’t be a good idea to disturb him. “Molly? What are you Seeing? And may I please have my arm back before you cut off the circulation? Thank you.”
“Sorry,” said Molly. She wasn’t looking at me. Her gaze was fixed on the shabby man in the far corner of his cage. “Armour up, Eddie. You need to See what I’m Seeing.”
I armoured up. It wasn’t just a man in a cage—I already knew that at gut level—but I still wasn’t prepared for what I saw when my mask’s Sight kicked in. Instead of a man, a gigantic humanoid form filled most of the cage. Ten, maybe twelve feet high, curled up in a ball and wrapped in heavy feathered wings. It had a perfect form and face, like a colossal marble statue brought to life. Inhuman in its perfection. The skin was a shining, shimmering white; the kind that contains every colour at once. And just like that, the cage turned my stomach. It felt wrong that something so mean could have been done to something so marvellous. Like someone had walked into a gallery and thrown acid across a masterpiece. I looked to Molly.
“Is that . . . what I think it is?”
“Oh yes,” said Molly. “It’s an angel.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I’ve never seen one before. I don’t suppose many have, but . . .”
“Hush, Eddie. You know what it is.”
And I did. You only had to look at it to know.
“All right,” I said. “From Above, or Below?”
“The Devil has power to assume a pleasing form,” said Molly. “So I suppose it could be either.”
“I’m imprisoned, not deaf,” said the angel. “I can hear you.”
It sat up in a great spreading of wings and looked at us. Its voice had been rich and thrilling, but when it fixed us with its glowing golden eyes, I winced and stumbled backwards. It was like staring into a spotlight. Even imprisoned, there was still something inhumanly judgemental in the angel’s gaze. I made myself stand my ground and glare back. I’m a Drood. We don’t bow or bend the knee to anyone. That’s the point.
“Hello, Eddie Drood,” said the angel. “Hello, Molly Metcalf. I’ve been expecting you.”
“Oh shit,” said Molly. “It knows us.”
“I am Heaven’s warrior,” the angel said quite calmly. “I am the will of God made flesh, to enforce his wishes in the mortal world. I know everyone.”
“Then how did you end up here?” I said.
The angelic form disappeared, replaced by the shabby man. He stood facing us, his hands in his pockets. His face was calm, empty, anonymous. “My presence is too much for human sensibilities. So I take this form, of my involuntary host, to shield and protect you. You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” I said. In its presence, it was hard to think of anything but the angel. As though it was more real than us.
“Well,” said the angel, “I am one of the good guys. Are you here to set me free?”
“Depends,” Molly said quickly. “I’ve known men possessed by things from the Pit, but . . . you’re claiming to be a man possessed by an angel? Has that ever happened before?”
Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA Page 5
