Simon Green - Live and let Drood

Poor car, said Molly, running her hand affectionately over the gleaming bonnet. It must get really bored, left on its own so often. Maybe we could leave the radio on.

I don t think so, I said.

Poor car Who s a good car, then?

Don t encourage it, I said sternly.

The Armourer s personalised cars have more than enough personality as it is.

We left the Phantom V behind, and strode determinedly towards the door only we could See. None of the tourists noticed a thing, of course. The door saw to that. It waited till the very last moment, and then swung smoothly and invitingly open before us.

You know, I said, just a bit wistfully, I can remember when I was a proper spy, and no one had a clue who or what I was.

We re clearly expected, said Molly.

No one expects the Drood Inquisition!

And we both walked laughing through the Uncanny door, something that probably didn t happen all that often. There was a brief and unsettling feeling of transition, and just like that we were somewhere else. And very clearly not anywhere inside the tower of Big Ben. Molly slipped an arm possessively through mine and leaned in close so she could murmur in my ear.

Very powerful teleport, she said quietly.

Very sleek, very professional and, I might add, very much above the pay scale of a department like this. Which means either there s more to this particular mob than meets the eye or they stole it. Can I just enquire? Can you get us out of here in a hurry, should it prove necessary for us to get the hell out of Dodge with bullets flying around our nether regions?

I have the Merlin Glass, I said just as quietly.

That s not what I asked, said Molly.

Oh, ye of little faith. I thought the blatantly purloined Twilight Teardrop currently hanging round your splendid neck had restored all your abilities.

Oh, hell, yes. I m just bursting with all kinds of magics! All kinds! I m not worried at all. I just thought you might be.

It s good of you to be so concerned, I said. Makes me feel so much more secure.

I can never tell when you re being serious, Molly said severely.

Neither can I Just settle for the fact that we are where we wanted to be, and try not to dwell too much on the fact that the door we came through has already disappeared.

Imagine my surprise, said Molly.

We were standing in a warm and cosy waiting room, with great bunches of flowers in oriental vases, pleasant paintings on brightly painted walls and a deep, deep shag-pile carpet. The whole setting had a familiar feel, and it took me a moment to realise it was because my new surroundings reminded me of home. Of Drood Hall. I suppressed a sudden stab of sorrow as I wondered if I d ever see the Hall, my Hall, again. I d purposefully kept myself busy all day just so I wouldn t have to think or feel things like that. I d always defined myself as the Drood who ran away from home, but if there wasn t a home or a family to run away from then who was I, really? What was I? I d always fought for the right to live away from my family, but I d always wanted them to still be there.

I remembered a moment from my childhood. Sitting alone in the silent empty dormitory while all the other children were off studying, while my uncle James sat beside me on the bed and told me that my mother and father wouldn t be coming home again. Ever. Because they d been killed out in the field on a mission that went wrong. These things happen, he said as kindly as he could. You have to be strong now, Eddie. Be a Drood. For your mother and father, and for the family. Can you do that? And I wanted to please him, because even then I greatly admired my uncle James, so I said, Yes, I can be strong. Anything for the family. Because I knew that was what I was supposed to say. And he smiled and slapped me on the shoulder, and got up and went away. Leaving me sitting there alone in that eerily silent and deserted dormitory. And all I could think was, I want my mum. I want my dad.

And standing there in that familiar-seeming room, I felt just that way again for no reason I could understand.

Eddie? said Molly. What s wrong? You re shaking.

It s okay, I said. Molly. I was just thinking. Remembering.

She squeezed my arm reassuringly. And then we both looked round sharply as a young Indian woman wearing a brightly patterned sari entered the room. She smiled warmly at both of us, and we gave her our best professional smiles.

Welcome to Uncanny, she said, in a rich contralto voice. I m Ankani. Please come with me. The Regent is very much looking forward to meeting with you.

Are you his secretary? I said.

Ankani smiled broadly. Hardly. I m one of his special agents. We didn t want you overawing the regular staff. We all spend time here in between assignments, guarding the place and doing whatever needs doing. We all muck in around here. The Regent s a great one for us all feeling like family. Breeds esprit de corps, and helps weed out those who aren t in this for the right reasons. But we mustn t keep the Regent waiting. He s been preparing for this meeting all day.

I looked at Molly, both of us conspicuously not budging. Someone else who knew we were going to be here before we did.

Really not liking that, said Molly. I d hate to think I was becoming predictable at my time of life.

It s our job to know things, said Ankani.

Even before they happen? I said.

Oh, especially then. Ankani smiled suddenly in a way that made her look a lot younger. But mostly we re just really good guessers.

Then maybe you can tell me, I said bluntly.

Do you know why my family would never talk about the Regent?

Of course, said Ankani. But I really think I d better leave it to the Regent to tell you. I think it will come better from him. I really don t want to spoil the surprise.

Ankani led us through a series of narrow, cheerfully lit corridors that reminded me of some old-fashioned country house. And, once again, of the quieter parts of Drood Hall. Along the way we passed a number of other Uncanny agents of an especially outr nature. I did wonder whether this was a show put on for our benefit to impress us with the Department s capabilities. We almost walked right into an agent so thoroughly camouflaged by his surroundings, I could hardly make him out. I looked back as he passed, and all I could see were the footprints he left in the deep carpeting.

Show-off, said Molly.

Our next encounter was with an oversized Hell s Angel, all long hair and heavy biker leathers, with a Rastamouse Lives! T-shirt. He just grunted and nodded quickly, while I wondered exactly where he could blend in as an undercover agent.

He was followed by a ghostly Viking figure, complete with horned helmet and a bear-fur cloak that looked like it might have been part of the bear as early as that morning. He was a huge burly figure, but he still stepped quickly aside to let us pass, half of him disappearing into the wall.

That s the Phantom Berserker, said Ankani. We inherited him from the previous administration. They dug him up out of a burial mound in Norway back in the 1960s, and he followed them back here like a stray dog. So they gave him a bowl of mead and a blanket to sleep on in the kitchen, and he s been here ever since. The Regent did discuss having him exorcised when he took over, but we found we liked having him around. He s just like a big puppy, only with a really big axe. And it s not like he s got anywhere else to go, poor soul. He s a bit single-minded, and more than a bit on the shy side in mixed company, but there s no one you d rather have at your side when there s serious Smiting of the Bad Guys to be done.

She finally knocked on a door that looked no different from all the other doors we d passed, waited for a voice from inside and then pushed the door open and ushered us into the Regent s office. And there he was, at last, the Regent of Shadows and new head of the Department of the Uncanny. A man of average height though a little on the skinny side, who looked to be in his late seventies wearing a scruffy suit with leather patches on the elbows, and what looked like breakfast stains on his waistcoat. He had iron-grey hair, an almost military grey moustache, a charming smile and piercing blue eyes. He looked amiable enough at first, but you had only to meet his steady gaze for a moment to see the unrelenting authority in the man. He reminded me a lot of Catherine Latimer in that both of them seemed very hale and hearty and full of energy for someone of their years. The Regent looked like he d be only too happy to challenge me to a friendly bout of arm wrestling, and probably win two out of three.