It was a con job. Of course it was a con. First rule of the confidence trick: if it seems to be too good to be true, it is too good to be true.
I subvocalised my activating Words, and my armour leapt out of my torc and surrounded me in a moment. I spun round to face Perrin, and he cried out in shock to see a Drood in his armour suddenly appear before him. I moved steadily forward, and Perrin screamed like a little girl. He turned to run for the exit door. I grabbed him by one shoulder, my golden fingers sinking deep into his flesh, and he cried out again. He fought me like a cornered rat, shouting and crying and striking at my armour with his bare hands. Hurt him far more than it hurt me. I let him get it out of his system, and then shook him hard, once. He stopped fighting, sniffed back tears, and called me a bastard. I dragged him over to the dimensional Door. When he saw where I was taking him, he started crying again, and kicked and struggled all the way.
I slammed him up against the closed Door, with enough force to shut him up. The Door didn’t react at all. I thrust my blank golden face into Perrin’s, and when he saw his own terrified face in the reflection, he almost passed out. Anyone else, and I might have felt a little ashamed of myself. But if what I suspected had happened here was right, he deserved far worse.
“What did you do?” I said, not even trying to hide the anger in my voice. “What did you do with all the people who trusted you? That Door only goes to one place, so none of them ended up where they thought they were going. Where did you send them really?”
Perrin swallowed hard. “I don’t know! No one here knows. We acquired the Door at an auction. Blind bid; no details, no history. That’s why we were able to afford it. But it works! We send people through and we never hear from them again. We’ve been sending people through the Door for years. Can’t be that bad a place; no one ever comes back to complain . . . And none of them are the sort of people who’ll be missed, so . . .”
“You have no idea at all where they’ve gone?” I said. “Or what might have happened to them? You took everything they had, took advantage of them when they were at their most vulnerable, and then just . . . threw them away! Justify yourself!”
“Justify myself?” said Perrin. “To Shaman Bond?”
“I’m Eddie Drood,” I said. “I just borrowed Shaman’s identity to get in here. You didn’t really think the Droods would leave a valuable item like the Merlin Glass just hanging around, did you? Now talk to me! Justify what you’ve done here!”
“I’m a businessman!” Perrin said loudly. “Providing a service! They all wanted to get away, and never be seen or found again, and we made that possible!”
“Except you didn’t,” I said. “You sent them to their deaths—and perhaps worse than that.”
“You don’t know that!”
“You don’t know that.”
Perrin gave me his best pathetic look. “Are you going to kill me?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t do that any more. I’m an agent, not an assassin.”
“Oh good,” said Perrin.
And he twisted suddenly, breaking free of my grasp with an effort. He ran for the exit door, screaming at the top of his voice for help and reinforcements. The door burst open just as he reached it, and a whole bunch of people came running in, armed with a whole assortment of weapons. I recognised Ms Smith and Mister Genuine Muscle among the many angry faces. Perrin fought his way to the back of the crowd and hid behind them, trying to explain to everyone what had happened, but it was obvious they already knew. I should have looked for more surveillance cameras. The crowd fanned out, to better cover me with their various weapons, but I wasn’t worried. All they had were guns. Perrin yelled for the others to kill me, to shut me up, to stop me from telling the world what they’d been doing here in the Departure Lounge. Most of the crowd took one look at my Drood armour and looked for someone else to tell them what to do. Some tried to hide behind others. Ms Smith stepped forward.
“Can we make a deal?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
“Most of us just work here!”
“You knew what was going on. You all profited from the lie. From all the people missing, presumed dead. You’re all guilty.”
“Get him!” Perrin shouted urgently from the back. “Kill him! He knows everything; he’ll tell! For God’s sake, somebody get him!”
But nobody moved.
I grabbed hold of one side of the Door with both my golden hands and pulled hard. The Door made loud creaking sounds of pain and distress, almost like a living thing, and then it swung slowly open, unable to resist the sheer power of my armour. I stepped back, pulling the Door all the way open, and looked inside. There was nothing there. Just a blank blur that hurt the eyes to look at it. No sound came from behind the Door, not even a breath of moving air. There was nothing at all on the other side of the Door except a horribly empty gap.
I looked back at the people watching me from the other side of the room. Most of them were staring, fascinated, as though they’d never seen the Door open before. And most of them probably hadn’t. But that hadn’t stopped them from using it to profit from the fear of desperate people. The only one not looking at the open Door was Perrin. He’d eased his way back through the crowd, to face me again. He had a formidable-looking futuristic gun in his hand, pointed right at me. An energy weapon; alien tech, or at the very least, alien-derived. The odd metal thing glowed and shimmered and twisted in his hand, as though it couldn’t quite decide what it was supposed to be. I turned to face Perrin, and he fired the gun at me.
Howling coruscating energies flared up all around my armour, blasting the floor at my feet and scorching the ceiling above me. Harsh energies crawled all over me, spitting and sparking as they tried to force their way in. I stood my ground, trusting my armour, and soon enough the energies fell away, defeated. And then I advanced steadily on Perrin. Everyone else fell quickly back, out of my way, scattering across the room. Perrin swore savagely at his fellow businesspeople as they abandoned him to me. He kept firing his gun, but the energies had less and less effect. When I was finally close enough, I snatched the gun out of his hand, grabbed him by the shoulder again, and dragged him back to the Door. I think he guessed what I meant to do, because he kicked and fought every inch of the way, screaming shrilly to the others for help that never came.
“Did your clients call for help?” I said. “Did you listen?”
I turned Perrin round to face the awful emptiness inside the open Door. He didn’t want to look at it, but I made him.
“This is the last thing a lot of people saw in this world. Before you took everything they had and forced them through,” I said. “Did you force them? You must have; I can’t think anyone would walk willingly into . . . that. Even I can’t tell what lies on the other side of this Door. You took everything they had and gave them nothing. So I think it’s time for some old-fashioned justice.”
I threw him through the open Door. He disappeared into the blur, his last horrified scream cut suddenly short. I waited, but that was it. I turned back to the others.
“Is that what usually happens?” I said. “Give or take the scream?”
A few heads nodded, here and there.
“All right,” I said. “Time for some more justice.”
“I thought you said you didn’t kill!” said Ms Smith.
“I’m giving you a chance,” I said. “The same chance you gave your victims.”
I held up one hand, to show off the energy weapon I’d taken from Perrin. I aimed it at them, and they scattered. I blasted the exit door with the gun, and the raging energies sealed it shut. I crushed the gun in my golden hand and let the pieces fall to the floor. There was a loud babble of voices, as the Travel Bureau people realised they were trapped in the Departure Lounge with me. And the open Door. Some of them beat on the exit door with their bare hands, but they couldn’t budge it. So
me yelled at me, saying it was all nothing to do with them, that they just worked here.
“You all knew,” I said. “You all profited. You’re all guilty.”
And I grabbed them one by one and threw them through the open Door. Some of them fought me, and some of them tried to run, and some of them just cried miserably. It didn’t make any difference. There was no room left in me for mercy. Some of them fired their guns at me, and some thrust other people forward in their place, shouting Take her instead of me! Some offered me money, or information, or threats—anything they thought I might want or fear. I just kept grabbing them and throwing them in.
Mister Genuine Muscle walked through of his own accord rather than fight a Drood. He had his dignity. The others, mostly, didn’t. I had to chase the last few round the Departure Lounge, but there was nowhere for them to go, nowhere for them to hide. The last few sobbed and pleaded, their voices like those of frightened children. But all I could think of were the missing people. Some of whom I’d known, and some of whom I hadn’t; but all of them deserved better than this. Until finally, I was the only one left in the Departure Lounge.
I stood looking into the terrible emptiness of the open Door and raised my voice.
“Well?” I said. “Any complaints?”
No one answered me. And the cold rage that filled my heart wouldn’t let me feel bad about it.
I considered the open Door thoughtfully. I did wonder . . . whether I might just stick my head through, to see what was on the other side. Trusting to my armour to protect me. It might not be that bad . . . and it would only take a moment. I could place both hands on either side of the door frame to brace me, and keep from getting sucked in. Just one quick look, so I could know for sure . . . where I had sent so many people. But in the end I decided not to. There was something about the Door. It felt surprisingly inviting, like a trap. Or perhaps, a trap-door spider. So I took a firm hold on the Door and forced it shut again.
Justice, of a sort, had been done. Now that my anger was starting to fade away, I wasn’t so sure about what I’d done. But I had saved other people from being taken advantage of by the Travel Bureau, and I decided I’d settle for that. What mattered . . . was that I was no nearer getting to Molly. I’d just lost my only lead. How was I going to get to the Shifting Lands now? And then I stopped, as I remembered how easily my armour had hacked Ms Smith’s computer. I looked thoughtfully at the coordinates dial on the Door. It might be stuck on one setting; but I’d back my armour against a Door any day.
A dimensional Door creates a momentary break in Space and Time, connecting two places and slamming them together just long enough for someone to pass through from one location to another. The coordinates decided what place the Door opened onto. So I set my armoured hand on the dial and let golden filaments burrow deep into the mechanism. The dial fought me, but it was no match for Ethel’s marvellous strange matter. There was a sudden sense of the Door throwing up its hands and going Oh hell, have it your own way, and the dial spun madly round and round under my hand before settling on the destination I wanted. The Shifting Lands. The Door started to swing open, and I stepped back.
The terrible emptiness was gone, replaced by brightly shining mists that curled and twisted before me. I called out to Kate through my torc, and she answered immediately. I brought her up to date on what had just happened and what I intended to do next.
“No, Eddie!” she said. “You can’t just dive straight in! Don’t trust the Door! Let me send some engineers in to inspect it first.”
“I have to do this,” I said. “It’s the only way to Molly.”
“At least wait for backup! You don’t have to do this on your own, Eddie!”
“Yes, I do,” I said. “Molly’s expecting me.”
And I strode forward, through the Door and into the Shifting Lands.
CHAPTER TEN
The Rules Are What We
Say They Are
When I think of all the Doors I’ve walked through, often with only a suspicion of what might be on the other side, or where I might end up, it frankly astonishes me that I’m still around. It’s like rolling the dice while wearing boxing gloves, knowing they’re fixed but hoping whoever did it owes you a favour.
The moment I passed through the Travel Bureau’s Door, the swirling mists glowed a dozen different colours, and then just disappeared, like curtains drawing back so the play can begin. I stood braced in my armour; ready for action, ready for anything. Except. . . . the scene before me.
I was back on the grounds of Drood Hall. The familiar grassy lawns stretched away into the distance under a bright Summer sun. It was all very calm, very peaceful. I felt a bit of an idiot, standing there in full armour with absolutely nothing threatening in view, so I relaxed just a little and armoured down. My first thought was to wonder whether my family might have interrupted my journey and brought me home by force. They’d done it before, when they disapproved of something I intended to do. I smiled, and just knew it wasn’t a pleasant smile. I was going to find and save my Molly and no one was going to stop me, not even my family. Perhaps especially not my family.
I looked around for someone to yell at and discovered that the Door had disappeared from behind me. The Travel Bureau people had been right; the Door existed only from the other side. And the next thing I noticed . . . was that while everything in the grounds looked exactly as it should, there was still something wrong, something . . . off, about my surroundings. I looked around me slowly, frowning. The grounds were deserted. Where was everybody? It all seemed unnaturally quiet and still. At this time of day there should have been any number of people out and about, but there were no security patrols, no gardeners, no happy young things taking a break just to enjoy the Summer day . . . No autogyros or flying saucers or winged unicorns sweeping by overhead. None of the familiar sights of home. I couldn’t even hear the usual harsh cries of peacocks and gryphons. There wasn’t a breath of moving air, and no scent of freshly cut grass. And when I finally looked up, into the bright blue sky, I realised none of the clouds were moving.
It was like standing in a photograph. Or perhaps a moment clipped out of Time and preserved.
Drood Hall was gone. My heart lurched sickly as I realised that while I was looking straight at where the Hall should have been nothing but empty open space was there, just wide, grassy lawns sweeping away forever. I looked frantically around me, but there was no sign of the Hall anywhere. The grand old manor house that had stood for centuries, protecting the family within as they protected the world . . . had been wiped out of existence.
I remembered coming home once before to find Drood Hall completely destroyed. A burned-out ruin, full of dead bodies. Of course, that turned out to be some other-dimensional Drood Hall, from some other reality, but still, that had been bad. This was worse. I wondered . . . whether someone might have activated the old dimension-travelling apparatus deep underneath Drood Hall, the enigmatic Alpha Red Alpha mechanism. Could the new Armourers, Maxwell and Victoria, have meddled with something they only thought they understood, and rotated the Hall out of this reality? No. That wasn’t it. There were too many things wrong with this picture. It wasn’t just the Hall that was missing; there were no trees, no ornamental lake, no hedge maze . . .
I wasn’t where I thought I was.
These weren’t the real Drood grounds, just some place that looked like them. Good enough to fool me, but only for a moment. No wonder there was no Hall, no people. Far too difficult to counterfeit convincingly. This was just a familiar-looking trap. And with the Travel Bureau’s Door gone, I had no way of leaving.
I looked down at my feet. Something else was bothering me. The grass looked real, and the ground felt solid enough under my feet, but something was missing. It took me a moment to realise that although the sun was shining brightly overhead, I wasn’t casting a shadow. I looked quickly around me, and even lifted each of my feet in
turn, as though my shadow might be trying to hide from me, but there was nothing. No trace of a shadow anywhere. Which was . . . disturbing. I could feel all the hairs standing up on the back of my neck.
What kind of a place had I come to?
I was sure my armour had fed the correct Space/Time coordinates into the Door. It should have delivered me straight to the Shifting Lands. So where was I? And why did I keep trusting Doors, anyway? And then I jumped, just a little, as I suddenly discovered I did have a shadow. A perfectly ordinary respectable shadow, that moved when I did. As though someone had realised I’d spotted a mistake in the design of this new reality, and had moved quickly to correct it. Which implied that someone was watching me . . .
I called out to Kate, through my torc. There was no response. I wasn’t surprised. The Shifting Lands were supposed to be beyond the reach of the Droods. That was the whole point. I was cut off from my family, and completely on my own. I couldn’t help but grin. If that was supposed to shake me, or undermine my confidence, whoever was watching didn’t know me at all. I’ve always done my best work on my own, without my family butting in to stop me from doing things they disapproved of. I bounced up and down on my feet and looked speculatively about me. Whoever thought they could trap me here was in for a really nasty surprise when they found they had an angry Drood by the tail.
And then someone close at hand cleared his throat, quite politely, and I looked round sharply.
Standing calmly before me was a familiar figure, with a face I knew only too well. Walker. He looked to be in really good condition, for a man who died years ago. Or at least, was supposed to have died. This was Walker, after all. As always, he looked very smart, like someone big in the City, in an expertly tailored three-piece suit. Right down to the gold pocket-watch chain stretched across his patterned waistcoat, the rolled umbrella, and the bowler hat. Not a young man, Walker, not for some time—though clearly full of energy and purpose. A man past his best days, perhaps, but still a man to be reckoned with.
From a Drood to A Kill: A Secret Histories Novel Page 30
