Simon Green - The Good,the Bad and the Uncanny

"Hello, John," he said, in a voice so calm and normal it was downright spooky. "Give my regards to Larry. I'll see you soon."

The vision broke, and the Past was gone. He'd dismissed me with casual ease, as though my gift and all its power was a thing of no consequence, next to him. And maybe he was right. My inner eye had slammed shut so tight it was giving me a headache. I looked at Larry, but he clearly hadn't noticed a thing, still lost in his own thoughts. I decided not to say anything about Hadleigh, for the moment.

He might not be a monster, but I wasn't at all sure he was still human.

Then both of us looked round sharply. No-one had said anything; no-one had called our names; but nonetheless, we knew. We looked down the Cheyne Walk approach, and there he was, Walker, large as life and twice as manipulative, strolling along the street as if he owned it. Heading straight for us. People hurried to get out of his way, and he no more noticed it than the air he breathed. Walker was a shark, and he only noticed other fish when he was hungry. He finally came to a halt before us, smiled easily, tipped his bowler hat politely to Larry, then fixed his steady gaze on me.

"I understand you're looking for Tommy Oblivion," he said, not bothering with pleasantries. "I know something of what happened to him, here, on this street on that terrible night; and as it happens, I am in a position to tell you something you need to know. But all knowledge has its price, and I'll only share what I know with you, John… if you'll do something for me."

"What do you want, Walker?" I said, resignedly, because I was pretty sure I already knew what he was going to say.

"Come walk with me, John, for a while. Walk with me now, and when we're finished, I'll tell you what you need to know."

"This is a bit desperate, isn't it?" I said. "You don't normally resort to open blackmail until much later in the game."

"Needs must when the hounds of time gnaw at our heels," said Walker, entirely unmoved.

"We don't have time for this," said Larry. "If you've got anything useful to contribute, Walker, say it. Or butt out. We're busy."

"Do we have a deal, John?" said Walker, conspicuously ignoring Larry.

"I could make you tell me," said Larry; and there was something in his cold, dead voice that made Walker turn to look at him.

"I rather doubt it," said Walker.

"Tell me what you know about my brother. Do it. Do it now."

"Ah, for the good old days," murmured Walker. "When dead men told no tales."

Larry went for his wand and Walker opened his mouth to use the Voice; but I was already there between them.

"Can you both please put your testosterone back where it belongs and save the showdown for another day? This isn't getting us anywhere. I'll go with you, Walker, let you show me all these things you think I need to see; but it had better be worth it."

"Oh, it will be," said Walker, smiling easily at me so he didn't need to look at Larry. "I have such sights to show you."

I had to raise an eyebrow at that. "You're quoting Hell-raiser? You've watched that movie?"

"Watched it? Dear boy, I was technical advisor."

I never know when he's joking.

I turned to Larry. "Sorry, but I have to do this. He'll never give up what he knows otherwise. I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, talk to people who knew Tommy and are still around. See if they can verify a connection between him and all the people on your list."

"All right," said Larry, not even a little bit graciously. "But don't be long. And don't make me come looking for you."

He turned his back on me and Walker, and strode off. I looked at Walker.

"You just don't give up, do you?"

"Never," Walker said calmly. "It's one of my more endearing qualities."

"You have endearing qualities?" I said. "Since when?"

He took out his gold pocket-watch and opened it, and the portable Timeslip within leapt out and carried us away.

Not Just Another Walk on the Nightside Come, John. Walk with me.

And so we went walking together, up and down the Nightside and back and forth, up the Grand Parade and down the Old Main Drag, in and out of endless rain-slick streets and shadowed alleyways. Taking in the wildest clubs and the lowest dives, walking under hot neon and flashing signs, past the open doors of very inviting private clubs and terribly discreet dens, where the barkers promised every pleasure you'd ever heard of or dreamed about. Where the patrons called for madder music and wilder women and danced till they dropped. One great kaleidoscope of sin, with temptation on display in every window, at marked-down prices. Love for sale on every street-corner, only slightly shop-soiled. The twilight daughters out in force, with their painted-on smiles and switch-blades tucked into their stocking tops. You can find anything you want in the Nightside if you're prepared to pay the price.

We walked and walked, and all the time Walker never said a word to me. He just stepped it out at a brisk pace, swinging his furled umbrella like a walking-stick, letting the streets speak for themselves. The pavements were packed with people, wide-eyed and eager, in hot pursuit of whatever drove them. But they all made way for Walker and me, so that we seemed to walk in our own little pool of calm, like the eye of the hurricane.

Up and down we went, in and out of every private domain and sphere of influence, and no-one challenged us. Hard men stepped back into doorways, and foot-soldiers for a dozen different crime lords quickly changed direction or disappeared down handy alleyways. Walker led the way and I followed, and no-one wanted anything to do with us. After a while, my legs grew weary, and my feet hurt, but Walker never slowed his pace. I grew so tired I lost all track of time, which might have been the point.

I'd reached the point where I was prepared to swallow my pride and call a halt when Walker beat me to it. He came to an abrupt stop before a shabby storefront in a decidedly grubby area and gestured grandly at the run-down establishment before us. I looked it over and wasn't impressed. The starkly lettered sign on the blank window said Welcome to the Nightside Tourist Information Centre! I couldn't help thinking that the exclamation mark at the end was entirely unjustified. A sort of resigned shrug would have been more appropriate.

"All right," I said to Walker. "This is new, I'll grant you. I didn't even know we had such a thing. Does it get much business? I would have thought most people who come here already know what they're looking for."

"That's the point," said Walker. "Shall we go in?"

He pushed open the door, and crumbling bits of paint fell off it. A small bell tinkled sadly as we entered a stuffy little office. A dark figure sat hunched behind a rough desk, half-concealed behind piles of folders, pamphlets, and assorted paper-work. Curling posters had been roughly tacked to the walls, offering picture-postcard views of places I happened to know looked nothing like that, and tall spinners held cheap pamphlets that looked as though no-one had disturbed them in years, There was dust, and cobwebs, and a general smell of futility and despair.

"Carter!" snapped Walker. "Why are you naked again?"

The figure at the desk crouched down even further behind his stacks of paper. "It helps me relax! I've got a lot on my mind!"

I turned away and interested myself very firmly in the contents of one of the spinners. Mostly pamphlets and flyers concerning places of interest for the discerning tourist in the Nightside. All written in that false, cheerful tone so beloved of Chamber of Commerce types, which fools no-one.

Visit the colourful Street of the Gods! (Travel insurance advised, especially against Acts of Gods.) Visit the amazing Mammon Emporium; all the merchandise from all the worlds! Try a bucket of Moose McNuggets, or a Cocaine Cola! Have you seen the Really Old Ones in the World Beneath? (Parental discretion advised. Some parts of the tour may not be suitable for those of a nervous disposition.)