I smiled on the inside. He never could resist a good story.
‘A long time ago, Jesus forced the demon called Legion out of a man and into a herd of pigs, which then stampeded over a cliff into the sea and drowned. But one of the carcasses drifted ashore, where it was found and harvested for the unnatural energies it still contained. Most of it’s been used up, down the centuries, but there is still a single ring, fashioned from a sliver of rib. Slip that ring on someone’s finger and it will open a door in their head, allowing you to walk right in.
‘The previous owner wore it himself, so he could be possessed by minor demons and do all the appalling things he never had the courage to do on his own. In the end, he went too far. Where else could he go? And Hammer’s people took the ring off his corpse.’
The Ghost shook his head firmly. ‘Force someone else’s spirit out, so I could take over their body? No, Gideon, that’s just wrong. But … if Hammer should happen to have something in his vault that would allow me to die completely at last, and move on …’
I looked at him for a moment. I’d never heard him talk like that before. I suppose even ghosts can get tired.
‘If it’s there, I promise I’ll find it for you.’
‘Then I’m in,’ said the Ghost.
He stuck out a bony hand for me to shake. I carefully closed my hand around where his appeared to be, and we mimed a handshake. It felt like holding a handful of cloud – cold but indistinct. I gave him Annie’s new address and told him when to be there.
‘I know it’s outside your usual area,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’m not bound to Soho,’ said the Ghost. ‘It’s just that these are the streets I grew up in. The familiar sights and sounds help hold me together. I like to think that when I finally do move on, Heaven will look a lot like Soho. Where the clubs never close, the bars are full of old friends, and the party never has to end.’ He smiled wistfully at the thought.
‘It was good to see you,’ I said.
‘Nice to be seen,’ the Ghost said solemnly. ‘Who else will be at Annie’s place?’
‘The Damned,’ I said.
The Ghost just nodded, not bothered in the least.
‘And the Wild Card.’
The Ghost looked at me sharply. ‘You’re going after Johnny Wilde? The man who saw too much? Best of luck getting hold of that one. I’d rather chase a poltergeist with a butterfly net.’
He turned and walked away, receding quickly into the distance without covering any ground, growing smaller and smaller right in front of me until I couldn’t see him any more. I took a deep breath, braced myself and set off in search of the most disturbing member of my crew. I practised looking calm and confident, because I couldn’t afford to appear less than utterly convincing when I talked to Johnny Wilde.
Everyone knew you took not just your sanity but your very existence in your hands when you met with the Wild Card.
SIX
Found in a Graveyard
Talking Loudly
London is a city full of mysteries. A sprawling chaos of streets ancient and modern, where what you see is merely the tip of the iceberg. There are levels and layers to this oldest of cities – the world most people see and its dark mirror image of crooks and crooked business … And then there’s the London hardly anyone sees: a gossamer-thin realm of magic and miracles, madness and monsters. Most people have the good sense to stick to their own worlds, but there are always a few determined to go exploring and see what there is to see.
Like Johnny Wilde, the Wild Card. The man who saw too much.
So far I’d found the people I needed for my crew easily enough, but I’d always known it was never going to be that simple with Johnny. I tried my special compass, but the needle just spun round and round without stopping, as though confused by someone who could be anywhere and everywhere, all at the same time.
I asked around, in the kind of places where people know things people aren’t supposed to know, but no one had heard anything about the Wild Card. They all seemed quite relieved about that. I didn’t blame them. It was generally understood that you had to be careful around Johnny Wilde. People who went looking for him tended not to come back. It wasn’t that he was malicious, necessarily, just terribly absent-minded about what was inside his head and what wasn’t.
Johnny wandered here and there as the whim took him, searching for something that was somehow always just out of reach. Or perhaps he was running and hiding, desperate to stay out of something else’s reach. It was no use asking him. Even if you could get an answer out of the man, you could guarantee it wasn’t going to be anything helpful.
Finally, a shadowy presence sitting at the back of a poison-drinking club quietly remarked that something out of the ordinary was happening at Highgate Cemetery. Someone was disturbing the dead by saying things to them. So I nodded my thanks to a man who was no longer there, and headed out across London.
When I finally got to Highgate Cemetery, the huge black iron gates had been flung wide open. A heavy padlock lay on the ground, crumpled up like a piece of paper, and the security chains had been threaded in and out of the iron railings in an intricate pattern. Pretty good indications that the Wild Card had been this way.
I stood before the open gates a while, holding on to my courage with both hands for fear it might bolt. None of my toys or tricks would help with Johnny Wilde. My only hope was that Hammer’s name would be enough to keep his attention focused long enough for me to tell him what I had to say. I straightened my back and sauntered through the open gates as though I didn’t have a care in the world. When you know you haven’t got an ace in your hand or up your sleeve, all that’s left is a really good bluff.
Highgate is terribly overgrown these days, with the trees left to run riot and enough undergrowth spilling out over the paths to make you long for a machete. Midday sunlight shed a golden glow over headstones, monuments and ivy-wrapped columns, while a host of rather self-conscious-looking angels stood around making semaphore signals to each other. A few wisps of mist curled around the headstones, as though they felt someone should be making an effort. It was all very peaceful, the only sound the crunch of my feet on the gravel path.
The autumn air was cold and sharp, and everything in the cemetery looked very real and very solid. It was important to cling on to thoughts like that around Johnny Wilde.
After a while, I heard a voice in the distance, talking calmly and reasonably, so I went in search of it. I found Johnny sitting on top of a cracked tombstone, deep in conversation with a whole group of people who weren’t there. A stout middle-aged man in a battered tweed suit with leather patches on the elbows, Johnny had a round face, kind eyes and a constant air of distraction – as though far too many things were vying for his attention. He looked like a retired professor. Because he was.
I stamped my feet loudly on the gravel, to make sure Johnny knew I was getting closer. It didn’t do to catch him by surprise. But he just kept on talking to all the people I couldn’t see. I finally understood from his half of the conversation that Johnny was talking to the occupants of the graves set out around him.
‘Well, sir, don’t think of it as being trapped in a coffin; think of it as refuge from the noisy and intrusive world. And yes, dear lady, I quite agree it’s a shame that your family doesn’t visit more often, but at least you’re enjoying some peace and quiet. No, young man, I can’t do anything about your being buried upside down. What difference would it make? The view wouldn’t change. What was that, madam? Oh … the whole Heaven and Hell bit. I’m really not the right person to talk to about that. I think you’re supposed to let go of this world and take a leap of faith. But I could be wrong. I often am.’
Johnny Wilde could see and hear all kinds of things that the rest of us mercifully can’t. That was why I wanted him. If Hammer’s place was protected by unknown Forces and Powers, I needed someone on my crew who could see them. Of course, not everything Johnny saw was actually there. It was entirely possible
that he was completely mad. General opinion on the matter was divided. But if Johnny Wilde was even a little bit what he was supposed to be, I wanted him on my side. I stood in front of him and addressed him loudly by name. He broke off his one-sided conversation and heaved a long-suffering sigh, as though my arrival was just another burden he was condemned to suffer.
‘Oh, it’s that time, is it? Hello, Gideon Sable! I know why you’re here. You want to hurt Fredric Hammer. I’m in. I disapprove of that man for many good reasons, not least for locking away all the wonders of the world so he can gloat over them in private. It shouldn’t be allowed.’
I wasn’t surprised he knew so many things he shouldn’t. That was just par for the course with Johnny Wilde. He smiled craftily and beckoned for me to lean in closer. He glanced furtively around and lowered his voice, as though not wanting to be overheard by all the people who weren’t there.
‘And, of course, I do have my own reasons for wanting revenge on Fredric Hammer. I should be beyond such small things, but I take it as proof of how rational I actually am, that I’m not.’
He jumped to his feet and performed a brisk soft-shoe routine on top of the headstone, beaming happily. And then he launched himself into the air, leaping from one grave marker to the next, dancing across the roofs of old stone crypts and mausoleums. Making a great circle around me and laughing out loud for the sheer joy of it. He stopped suddenly, as though he’d run out of steam, and dropped down to stand before me. His feet hardly made a sound on the gravel. He pulled up a chair that wasn’t there and sat down on it. The invisible seat supported his weight quite happily, so that he seemed to be lounging in mid-air. He reached out with his right hand, and it disappeared into nowhere, as though he’d thrust it offstage, behind the world’s scenery. When he brought his hand back, it was holding a mug of steaming hot tea. The mug bore the legend World’s Best Visionary. He sipped at his tea, blew out a mouthful of smoke and fixed me with a thoughtful look.
‘I approve of your crew, Gideon. Getting Annie Anybody involved in something big will be wonderful for her. And bringing in the Ghost is an excellent idea; it’ll do him good to serve a useful purpose for once. I’m not so sure about the Damned … He’s always going to be more concerned with his own problems than anyone else’s.’
I was surprised and not a little impressed by this sudden attack of lucidity, but I tried not to let it show.
‘They all have something useful to contribute,’ I said steadily. ‘You can leave the Damned to me.’
‘Gladly,’ said Johnny.
A phone rang. Johnny picked up a handful of nothing and held it to his ear. The ringing stopped. He listened for a while and then put the nothing down again. He smiled brightly.
‘Wrong number.’
I was pretty sure he was just messing with me now. I couldn’t let Johnny get to me, or I’d lose control of the situation.
‘We’ve never worked together before,’ I said. ‘If you’re to be a part of my crew, I need to have some idea of what’s going on in your head.’
‘Good luck with that,’ Johnny said wistfully. ‘Better men than you have tried and failed. Including me.’
‘How did you become like this?’ I said. ‘I’ve heard a number of stories, but I’m not sure I believe any of them.’
‘Really?’ said Johnny. He leaned forward in his chair that wasn’t there, and looked genuinely interested. ‘What kind of stories?’
I tactfully chose some of the less scandalous ones. ‘Some say you tried to sell your soul but ended up selling your sanity. No one’s quite sure what you got in return. Others say you’re possessed by some wayward faerie spirit. And there are those who believe you’re the last living avatar of Dionysus.’
‘Oh, I like all of those!’ said Johnny, bouncing up and down on his invisible chair like a small child delighted with a new idea. But then the smile left his face, and he shook his head regretfully. ‘I’m afraid the truth is far less comfortable. But if you must know …’ He threw his mug of tea over his shoulder, and it vanished in mid-air. ‘Listen to me, Gideon Sable the Second, and I will tell you who I am and how I came to be. And then you can tell me whether you’re any happier for knowing.’
He paused for a moment, as though hoping I might change my mind, and then began his story in a brisk and rather distracted tone, as though he was talking about somebody else.
‘I used to be a very well-respected professor of organic chemistry, at a very well-respected university which now refuses to admit I was ever part of its staff. I was synthesizing a new drug that was supposed to be a cure for some of the more extreme forms of anxiety, but I became far more interested in the reactions I was getting from my test subjects. Some of the thoughts and insights they were coming up with were absolutely fascinating – as though they were seeing the world clearly for the very first time.
‘I became convinced that a purer version of the drug would be powerful enough to blow the doors of perception right off their hinges and allow an unblinking view of what holds reality together. And I wasn’t going to waste that on a bunch of first-year students only doing it for course credits. So, after I’d refined the drug sufficiently, I took the first proper dose myself.’
He sat quietly, staring at nothing, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was very quiet and very sad.
‘I thrust aside the curtains of the world and looked behind them. And what I learned … broke my heart, as well as my mind. This world is nothing more than a joke, and the joke is on us. We’re all just playing a game, for Something’s amusement. But now that I understood the rules and all the cheat codes that break the rules, I can do whatever I want. And I do. Because it’s all just a game …’
‘What happened after the drug wore off?’
‘It never did, completely. Once I’d learned to see the world as it really is, I couldn’t stop. I did think about blinding myself, but I was pretty sure that wouldn’t be enough …
‘I was fired from the university. For telling people truths they didn’t want to know. My family and friends wanted nothing to do with me. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t take my old life seriously any more. But then Fredric Hammer decided he wanted the drug – not to take himself, but for his collection. Unfortunately for him, I never wrote down the final details on how to prepare the pure version. So he sent some of his people to collect me. That didn’t work out too well for them. But he keeps trying. Dogging my footsteps, interrupting my life when all I want is a little peace …’
He fixed me with a surprisingly steady gaze. ‘It’s time to bring the Hammer down. I would be happy to be a part of your crew, Gideon.’
I gave him Annie’s new address and told him when to be there.
‘I don’t mix well with people any more,’ he said sadly. ‘Because I can see who they really are.’
‘You have to promise me that you won’t hurt any of my people,’ I said.
‘You have my word,’ said Johnny. ‘For what that’s worth.’
ACT TWO
Planning the Heist
SEVEN
Telling the Crew What They Need to Know
But Not Everything, Just Yet
There are parts of London no one goes to by choice; they’re just where you end up when you can’t fall any further.
I was the first to arrive at Annie’s little flat, tucked away in the back of one of those grubby old tower blocks that should have been pulled down long ago. People were never meant to live crowded together like battery hens. I hung around outside for a while, quietly checking that I hadn’t been followed and that no one was paying undue attention to the tower block. When you’re planning on going up against the worst man in the world, paranoia is your friend.
The inside looked even worse than the outside, which took some doing. The glass in the door had been smashed, and the deserted lobby had all the welcoming ambience of a punch in the face. There were unpleasant stains on the linoleum floor and angry graffiti on the walls. The air stank of spilled
booze and stale piss. Some of the residents had been marking their territory. Annie Anybody had fallen a long way from who and what she used to be. Just as I had.
Except we didn’t fall; we were pushed.
I had to walk up eleven flights of stairs to get to Annie’s flat because the lifts weren’t working. Although one look was all it had taken to convince me that I wouldn’t have trusted them anyway. By the time I got to the right floor, I had spots floating in front of my eyes and I was struggling to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest. It is possible that I was a little out of shape, but you don’t need a healthy mind in a healthy body to do the kind of work I do. Just a sneaky way of thinking and a hell of a lot of attitude.
At the top of the stairs, I took a moment to regain my composure and get my lungs working properly again. I was making a fair amount of noise, but no one came out to see what was happening. In places like this, it isn’t only the cat that gets killed for its curiosity. I put on my best Don’t mess with me look, just in case, and set off down the long gloomy corridor to Annie’s flat. I had to walk carefully to avoid stepping in things. I finally came to a halt before Annie’s door and checked to make sure I had the right number; this didn’t strike me as the kind of neighbourhood that would welcome unexpected visitors. I couldn’t see a bell, so I knocked politely. There was a long pause before a harsh voice on the other side of the door demanded to know who I was.
‘It’s the man of your dreams, Annie.’
The door opened just a little, and Annie glared at me over the heavy steel chain. ‘I’ve been having some awful dreams these last few years. Thanks to you. Where are the others?’
‘On their way,’ I said. ‘Now, will you please invite me in, before someone notices I can afford decent clothes and therefore don’t belong in this neighbourhood.’
Annie sniffed, took off the chain and opened the door. I slipped past her, and she quickly closed the door behind me and put the chain back in place. We stood and looked at each other for a long moment. I almost didn’t recognize her. Wrapped in a long robe that was only one step up from a blanket, Annie had bare feet, no makeup on, and her hair was a severe buzzcut. She looked as if she was auditioning to be homeless. When not arrayed in her full glamour attire, or immersed in a role, she almost wasn’t there. She glowered at me, arms tightly folded, daring me to make any comment. I gave her my best winning smile.
The Best Thing You Can Steal Page 7
