Simon Green - The Spy Who Haunted Me

“Reports of my death . . . are no doubt highly anticipated,” snapped a cold, authoritative voice, and an image of Alexander King appeared suddenly out of nowhere before us. “I value my privacy, and I don’t have the time or the strength left to waste on unnecessary interactions.”

The legendary Independent Agent sat on a huge wooden throne, his back straight, his legs casually crossed. You could tell it was just an image projected from somewhere else in Place Gloria. Although the image was sharp and clear and had three dimensions, it lacked . . . presence. The image of Alexander King looked frail and shrunken but still vital. And nowhere near as old as he was supposed to be. Illness or age had dug deep furrows in his face, but he still had a long mane of silver gray hair, his mouth was firm, and his gaze was sharp. He was still handsome, in a ravaged sort of way, and he sat his throne as though he was King in fact as well as name. He wore a purple crushed velvet smoking jacket over checked tweed flares.

“I always felt most at home in the seventies,” he said calmly. “Such a glorious time to be young and alive and have the world by the throat.”

“Is that really you, King?” said Honey Lake. “Or have we come all this way to be greeted by a glorified recording?”

“Oh, I’m still very definitely me,” said King, grinning nastily. “Not gone yet, despite everything your pernicious Company has done to try to hurry me along. I am safe and secure in my private vaults, and I plan to stay that way until my game has run its course.”

“Hello, Grandfather,” said Peter.

“Peter,” said Alexander. He didn’t look or sound particularly pleased to see his only grandson. “Such a disappointment to me. All the things you could have done, all the people you could have been, and you settled for industrial espionage. Such a gray little world, when all is said and done. Where’s the glory, or the glamour, in grubbing through big business’s waste bins?”

“It pays well,” said Peter. He studied his grandfather thoughtfully, absorbing every detail.

“It would have to,” said Alexander. “Well, now at least you have a chance to prove yourself, grandson. But you’ll get no help from me. No advice or special preference, just because you’re family.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Grandfather,” said Peter.

From their cold, distracted voices, they might just have been discussing the weather. They sounded a lot like each other.

“Why us?” I said, and Alexander’s piercing gaze switched immediately back to me. I stared right back at him. “As I understand it, you wanted the six greatest field agents in the world today to find the one best suited to take your place when you’re gone. So why us? We’re all names, I suppose, with good solid backgrounds of work, but I could give you a dozen other names off the top of my head of agents more famous and more suited than any of us.”

Alexander King flashed me his nasty grin again. “I know who you’re talking about, and if any of them had been good enough, they’d have taken my place by now. No, I chose the six of you because you’re young and have potential. My game will bring out the best in you, or kill you. Either way, the winner will have proved themselves a worthy successor.

“Pay attention. This is the contest, and to the victor the spoils. You will go to five locations I have chosen and there investigate five of the world’s greatest mysteries. Discover the truth behind the legend. Then move on to the next, until the game is finished.”

“What if we can’t solve any of these mysteries?” Honey Lake interrupted. “What if it turns out there is no answer?”

“I found the truth,” said Alexander King. “So will you, if you’re worthy. Fail to uncover any one of these five truths, and you all fail. The game stops there. No secret knowledge for anyone. So don’t fail.”

“Terrific,” murmured the Blue Fairy. “Go, team.”

“To begin with, all six of you will have to learn to work together as a team,” said Alexander, his dark gaze sweeping over all of us dispassionately. “But only one of you can return to claim my prize. So, in the grand old tradition of spycraft, as you progress you will have to secretly work against and betray each other. There can be . . . only one.” He laughed briefly. “Always did like that film. At least I don’t require you to chop each other’s heads off.”

We all looked at each other. None of us looked too surprised or shocked.

“I’m still not too keen on any of this,” I said. “I don’t jump through hoops for anyone. I’m a Drood.”

“You’ll dance to my tune, Drood, if you want the identity of the traitor inside your family,” said Alexander King. “My game, my rules.” He smiled coldly around at all of us. “Concentrate on the prize. All the accumulated secrets of my extended lifetime. The greatest secrets of the secret world. Don’t you want to know who shot JFK? What the Eye in the Pyramid really means? And who really murdered the Great Dream of the sixties? Of course you do. This isn’t just about the particular little bits of information you came here for; it’s about knowing why the world is the way it is. I have the answer to every question you ever had, and I’ll give it to the winner, all wrapped up in a pretty bow.”

“Get thee behind me, Grandfather,” said Peter.

“Don’t take too long,” said Alexander, ignoring his grandson. “I don’t have too much time left. A few months, maybe less. If I should die before you complete the game, Place Gloria will be blown to pieces, and all my secrets lost forever. None of you will get anything. Now: five mysteries, five answers. That’s the game. Starting with Loch Ness in Scotland, for its monster.”

“Any Yetis?” I said hopefully. “I always wanted to visit Tibet or Nepal and track down an Abominable Snowman.”

Alexander glared at me. “I once came face-to-face with a Yeti, back in the fifties. Very old, very wise creature. Scared the crap out of me. You will leave the Yetis alone, Drood, and pray fervently that they continue to leave us alone.”

“How are we supposed to investigate five separate locations if we only have a few months to work in?” said Katt.

Alexander King waved one hand negligently, though I sensed the effort the movement cost him. It was the only move he’d made since he appeared. We all jumped just a little as five bulky metal bracelets appeared out of nowhere and clamped themselves around our left wrists. The Blue Fairy clawed at his, trying to prize it off, but it wouldn’t budge. I looked at mine thoughtfully; my torc was supposed to protect me from things like this. The metal was a dull purple, with strange lights pulsing deep inside the metal. It felt cold, and it looked very like alien technology.

I had to wonder just who the Independent Agent might have allied himself with down the years to ensure his precious autonomy.

“The teleport bracelets stay on until the end of the game,” said Alexander King. “Coordinates for each location are preprogrammed. So none of you can leave, or drop out, now the game has started. If you try, the bracelet will kill you.”

Katt glared at him. “That wasn’t in the rules!”

“It is now,” said Alexander, grinning his nasty grin.

“Where did you get these bracelets?” said Honey. “I know alien tech when I see it.”

“That’s just one of the secrets you’ll be competing for,” Alexander said smugly. “Oh, the things I know . . . that you need to know.” He looked at all of us in turn, savouring the moment. “You are the best I could find . . . But I can’t say I’m impressed. How will the world survive when I am gone? . . . Well, let the game commence! Prove your worth, to me and to the world. And, just maybe, to yourselves.”