Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA

by Simon R. Green

  Roxie smiled at me. “The thought does have its attractions . . . but no.”

  “You just can’t help some people,” said the Psychic Surgeon.

  I fixed him with a cold stare. “I’ve been having a really bad day. I could use someone to take it out on.”

  “Never make an enemy; that’s what I say,” said the Surgeon. “What can I do for you?”

  I looked at Roxie. “See? I can do intimidating.”

  “I knew you had it in you,” said Roxie. She fixed the Psychic Surgeon with her own cold glare. “Can you really put us in touch with Dr DOA?”

  “Hush!” the Surgeon said sharply. “That’s not a name to use in public.”

  He looked around quickly, and just a bit dramatically, to make sure no one had overheard. Though we would have had to be shouting at the tops of our voices to cut through the general bedlam. The Psychic Surgeon closed up shop, by setting in place a large sign: The Psychic Surgeon is out. Do not mess with his things, or he will cut off your libido. He then led us to a private shielded-off area at the rear of his stall, surrounded by standing wooden panels engraved with ancient Chinese characters. I nodded. I’d seen that kind of security before: Stay inside the circle and no one could overhear you.

  “Are you sure that’s enough?” said Roxie. “In a place like this?”

  “Even God would have to turn up his hearing aid to listen in on us,” said the Surgeon. “Now, what do you nice young people want with Dr DOA? I mean, yes, I get it; you want the wild witch of the woods dead. And like anyone sane, you’d much rather someone else did the dirty work and took all the risks. But why choose Dr DOA? There’s no shortage of people with grudges against Molly Metcalf, who’d be happy to do the job for a lot less than the Doctor will charge you.”

  “I want Dr DOA,” said Roxie, “because he never fails. He’s there for when they really, absolutely, have to die. That’s what I’m paying for.”

  The Surgeon nodded. “No offence, dear, but are you sure you can afford a service like this?”

  “Money is no object,” said Roxie, “where Molly Metcalf is concerned.”

  “That’s what the Doctor likes to hear!” the Surgeon said cheerfully.

  “Do you know him?” I said. “I mean, personally? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone who could claim to have met the Doctor in person.”

  “I can put you in touch with the man,” the Psychic Surgeon said carefully. “For a percentage of the fee. But I’ve never even been in the same room as the Doctor. Ours has always been a strictly business relationship. I prefer to maintain a safe distance from that man, and what he does.”

  “I’m still not entirely convinced he exists,” said Roxie.

  The Surgeon sneered at her. “I could drop some names of the Doctor’s more-recent accomplishments. People who died from apparently natural causes, or were quite blatantly poisoned. Enough to convince. But you already know all that, or you wouldn’t be here. You can strike a deal with me, or you can walk away. The Doctor won’t care. And I only care in as much as it affects my percentage. There’s never any shortage of people wanting to hire Dr DOA. For reasons of his own, he has chosen to move you to the front of the queue. He hasn’t told me why, and he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to tell me anything, and mostly he doesn’t.”

  “I heard he killed a Drood recently,” I said. “Is that right?”

  “You do get around, don’t you, Shaman?” said the Surgeon. “Yes. I heard that.”

  “So who hired the Doctor to murder a Drood?” I said. “Who could be crazy enough to seriously piss off the world’s most dangerous family?”

  “The Doctor never talks about his clients,” said the Surgeon. “That’s part of what you’re paying for.”

  “Where is he?” said Roxie. “Where can we find Dr DOA?”

  He started to say something, and then stopped. He looked at us both thoughtfully. “I see minds differently from other people. Comes with the job. I can see strengths and weaknesses, and all the colours and flavours of thought. And there’s something not quite right about you two. Roxie, why are you so keen to have Molly Metcalf killed?”

  “You’ve heard of her, haven’t you?” said Roxie.

  “Well, yes . . . ,” said the Surgeon. “Good point.”

  “And we aren’t dumb enough to try to do it ourselves,” I said.

  “Understood,” said the Surgeon.

  “We need to be sure Dr DOA really can dispose of the wild witch,” I said. “After all, a lot of powerful people have already tried to take her down. She’s still here, and they’re not.”

  “The Doctor can get to anyone,” said the Psychic Surgeon. “I can tell you’re serious about wanting to meet him, but . . . I’m also getting the impression that you want information . . . Yes! You want to know who hired the Doctor to kill Eddie Drood! Why would you want to know that?”

  “I told you to stay out of my head!” said Roxie.

  The Psychic Surgeon fell back a step, quickly raising both hands. “Please! It’s your business. I really don’t care. But the Doctor might . . .”

  He looked around, peering past the standing wooden panels at the people passing by, and when he was sure no one was paying any attention, he produced a piece of folded paper and offered it to Roxie. She looked at it suspiciously and gestured for me to take it. I did so, while Roxie glared at the Surgeon.

  “I didn’t come all this way for a note! I was promised a meeting with Dr DOA!”

  “No you weren’t,” the Psychic Surgeon said calmly. “I chose my words very carefully. You were promised a connection, and that’s what you get. The Doctor knew you’d come; don’t ask me how. He had that message already prepared for you, and delivered to me by private messenger. And his instructions were that you are not to read it until after I am gone.” He smiled briefly. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to know. I’m better off not knowing. I make murders possible, but I’m never a part of them.”

  “You haven’t even peeked?” I said.

  “Of course not! He’d know!” The Surgeon actually shuddered briefly. “I value my business relationship with the Doctor. And I value being alive.”

  I hefted the folded piece of paper. “This will take us straight to Dr DOA?”

  “If he wants you to find him,” said the Psychic Surgeon. “And please, never contact me again. Even for the kind of people the Hiring Ground attracts these days, you two are just too disturbing.”

  “That’s it?” said Roxie. “You’ve nothing more to say?”

  “Not a damned thing,” said the Psychic Surgeon. “You can go now.”

  “That’s what you think,” said Roxie.

  She grabbed hold of his jacket lapels with both hands, lifted him up onto his toes, and then dropped her Roxie look to show him her real face. The Surgeon made a shocked sound. He brought up his hand, and suddenly it was holding a scalpel made out of shimmering light. He moved to slash her across the throat, but the scalpel fell apart before it could even touch her, breaking up in the face of Molly’s protections. I knew she had them, but my heart still missed a beat. The Psychic Surgeon whimpered as he looked at his empty hand, and then turned reluctantly back to look at Molly.

  “You’re not just a mercenary. Who are you? What are you?”

  She pulled his face forward so she could smile right into it. “I’m Molly Metcalf. And you are in real trouble.”

  That gave him the strength he needed to pull free from Molly’s grasp. He ran blindly, not even noticing I was in his way. He lashed out at me with his restored glowing scalpel. I armoured up, and the scalpel exploded into sparks as it hit my golden chest. The Surgeon cried out and fell back, looking at his empty hand as though it had betrayed him. I armoured down, so as not to attract attention. I looked quickly around as Molly grabbed hold of the Psychic Surgeon again, but everyone passing by seemed to be deter
minedly looking somewhere else. Partly because the Hiring Ground exists only by everyone minding their own business, but most likely because the Psychic Surgeon had no friends here. He looked from Molly to me and back again, and seemed to shrink in on himself.

  “The wild witch and a Drood,” he said faintly. “He knew . . . Dr DOA knew! And he didn’t tell me. The bastard . . . He sent you here so you’d kill me!”

  “Not necessarily,” I said. “Tell us what we want to know, and you could still walk away.”

  He looked older, all his arrogance and authority falling away. If he hadn’t seemed so pathetic, I would have enjoyed seeing him take such a fall. It felt like bullying a child. And then I remembered all the murders he’d made possible, fronting for Dr DOA, and I hardened my heart.

  “Why contact Roxie Hazzard, in the Deep Down Pit?” I said. “Why tell us to come here?”

  “Because I was told to!” said the Surgeon. “Dr DOA set it up.”

  “Why?” said Molly.

  “I don’t know!” the Psychic Surgeon said miserably. “He doesn’t tell me anything; I just work for him. I’m not a violent person; I’m just a frontman! He contacted me originally, completely out of the blue. And then he told me how the deal was going to work. I wasn’t going to argue; not with a man like him. I just went along.”

  “Why?” I said. “Why get involved in so many deaths?”

  “Because the money was good! Times are hard . . .”

  “You must know more about the Doctor’s methods than anyone else,” said Molly. “Tell me how to save Eddie!”

  The Surgeon looked at me. “You’re him? You’re the Drood he poisoned? How are you even still alive?”

  “There must be some way to save him!” said Molly, shaking him hard.

  “You can’t!” said the Surgeon. “No one ever survives Dr DOA! That’s the point. I’m amazed he’s lasted this long. There’s nothing you can do! Nothing anyone can do. I’m sorry . . .”

  “There’s nothing you can think of that might help?” said Molly.

  “No!” said the Psychic Surgeon. “Nothing!”

  “Then I don’t have any reason to keep you alive, do I?” said Molly.

  She let go of his lapels, grabbed his head with both hands, twisted savagely, and broke his neck. She let go of him, and he fell to the floor. I looked down at the body and couldn’t honestly say I felt anything. He’d made so many murders possible, including mine. I took a deep breath and looked at Molly.

  “You can’t kill everyone who annoys you.”

  “Watch me,” said Molly. “If you’re going to die, then everyone responsible is going to die with you.”

  “That won’t save me,” I said.

  “I have to do something!” said Molly.

  “There’s still hope,” I said. “Dr DOA wanted to meet me. That must mean something. Let’s see what he has to say.”

  I turned the folded paper over. On the outside it said, For the attention of Shaman Bond and Roxie Hazzard. I opened the paper, and inside it said, Hello, Eddie and Molly. I’ll meet you back at Drood Hall. In the Armoury. Come now, and come alone.

  The message was handwritten. Something about the hand looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. There was no signature. Molly read the message and looked at me.

  “Okay, I’m lost. He knows who we are. How is that possible?”

  “Because I was right all along,” I said. “Someone inside my family made this possible. Gave Dr DOA all the details. We have to go back, Molly, and finish this.”

  “Face-to-face with Dr DOA at last,” said Molly. “Do you care if I kill him?”

  “If he can’t help me,” I said, “then we don’t have a reason to keep him alive, do we?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Home Again, Home Again

  I brought out the Merlin Glass, and immediately all hell broke loose. Alarms and sirens, bells and whistles, followed by the sound of raised voices, accusations and counter-accusations, insults and tears, and a great many people running for the exit. I looked past the standing wooden posts and saw some people grabbing up armfuls of goods, while the more experienced just abandoned everything and ran. Either because they were anticipating a raid, or for fear they were about to be found out. An awful lot of people had an awful lot to feel guilty about in the Hiring Ground.

  I looked innocently at Molly. “Did I do that?”

  “Looks like the Hiring Ground does have some security measures after all,” said Molly. “And given that we are currently standing over the body of a man I just killed, I don’t think we should still be here when the security patrols come looking.”

  I nodded. “Time to go home, Molly.”

  “Can the Glass take us straight to the Armoury?” said Molly. “I thought there were all kinds of protections in place, to keep people from just dropping in uninvited?”

  “Oh there are,” I said. “Protections and defences like you wouldn’t believe. We’ll have to go the long way round.”

  I ordered the hand mirror to show me a view of the Drood grounds, as close to the Hall as possible. Instead, the Glass showed me an inside view of the Armoury. I stood there and looked at it.

  “What?” said Molly, looking at my face. “What’s wrong? The Glass isn’t playing up again, is it?”

  “That . . . shouldn’t be possible,” I said, indicating the view. “Even the Merlin Glass shouldn’t be able to pierce the Armoury’s defences, and it definitely shouldn’t show me something I didn’t even ask for!”

  “You’re the one who said it reads minds,” said Molly.

  “Not like that,” I said. “And not without permission.”

  “Are we stranded here?” said Molly. “Because if the Glass can’t get us out, I think we need to blend with the crowd and run. A group of heavily armed men are heading our way, and they do not look in the mood to ask polite questions. All right, we can probably take them, but . . .”

  “Yes,” I said, “it has been a long day, hasn’t it?” I glared at the Merlin Glass. “Work, you bastard. Take us home.”

  I shook the Glass out to Door size, and it opened onto the Armoury. I had a moment to think there was something wrong with what I was seeing, and then Molly was right behind me, shouting, Go! Go now! So I just plunged through, with Molly crowding my heels. The Glass immediately shrank back to hand-mirror size, without waiting to be asked, and nestled comfortably into my hand. Like a good dog expecting praise. The shouting and general clamour from the Hiring Ground were gone, replaced by utter silence from the Drood Armoury.

  And that was when I realised what was wrong. The Armoury was completely deserted. Not a soul to be seen anywhere. No lab assistants, going about their usual destructive and homicidal business. No ongoing experiments, no explosions from workstations or muffled screams from the firing range. It was eerie; like turning on your favourite soap opera and seeing nothing but an empty set. I’d never seen the Armoury like this before. Except in the fake Armoury, in the Shifting Lands, where duplicates of my parents had tried to murder me. That had been a trap, and this felt like one too.

  I stood very still, looking carefully around me. Something was seriously wrong. There’s always something happening in the Armoury; the assistants work in shifts, twenty-four hours a day. Because the family never knows when it might need some new weapon or device. And because you have to keep the lab assistants busy, to stop them getting into mischief. But all the workstations had been abandoned; some with projects left half-finished. There were even cups of tea and coffee with the steam still coming off them. Whatever had happened here, it had happened suddenly and very recently.

  “Okay . . . ,” said Molly. “I am going to go out on a limb here and say this is not good. In fact, it’s downright creepy. Where is everybody?”

  I called out to the Armourer. My voice echoed in the quiet, but there was no response. So I call
ed out to Ethel, and she answered me immediately. There was no trace of her usual rose-red manifestation. Just a quiet voice, hanging on the air.

  “You’re in danger, Eddie.”

  “Not even a welcome home?” I said. “Typical. What’s happened?”

  “We’re not sure,” said Ethel. “Someone sounded the Emergency Evacuation Alert from inside the Armoury. The one that means Everyone get the hell out and run for your lives; an experiment has just gone horribly wrong. And given the kinds of things that go wrong in the Armoury on a regular basis, to sound that Alert would have to mean that the Hall itself was in danger. The Armourer organized a complete evacuation of the Armoury, actually manhandling a few who didn’t want to leave, made sure everyone was accounted for, and then sealed the blast doors. To ensure the emergency was contained inside the Armoury. But once Maxwell and Victoria started asking questions, it quickly became clear no one would admit to sounding the Alert. No one knew anything about an experiment gone out of control. And when the Armourer tried to get back in, to investigate the situation, they found the entrance codes had been changed. By someone still inside. The family is working on a way to get back in. How did you manage it?”

  “The Merlin Glass,” I said. “And the only way that would work . . . is if someone had shut down the Armoury’s shields and protections. Which has to mean someone is in here with us. I was right all along, Ethel; there’s a traitor in the family.”

  “Not another one,” said Ethel. “It’s getting so you can’t trust anyone . . . You’re going to have to be very careful, Eddie. I can’t see what’s happened, or who’s responsible, or where they are. And I should be able to. It might be best for you and Molly to just leave the way you came. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with.”

  “All the more reason to stay,” I said. “We can’t leave the Drood Armoury in the hands of a traitor. God alone knows what an enemy could do with unrestricted access to the kinds of weapons and equipment they work on here. It’s unthinkable.”