Simon Green - The Spy Who Haunted Me

“You went to great lengths,” murmured Walker, “to establish yourself as an independent field agent for the Droods.”

“I still am,” I said. “It’s not what you do; it’s why you do it. I maintain a healthy distance from my family so I can see them clearly for what they are and operate as their conscience when necessary . . . I’m an agent, not an assassin. But I will kill Alexander and Peter King for all the things they’ve done. Not just because of Honey. And Blue and Katt. Am I going to have problems with you over this, Walker?”

“Not in the least. But, Eddie, understand this. If it comes to the point, and you find you can’t do it . . . you can’t kill them . . . I will. And you had better not get in my way. I was never an agent, Eddie. I was a soldier.”

“For Honey?” I said.

“No; I never cared much for her. Typical arrogant CIA spook. No, some people just need killing.”

At which point a large, heavily muscled, and more than fashionably dressed young man emerged suddenly from the crowds to loom over us. He planted himself right in front of Walker and smiled nastily at him. He was handsome enough, in a blond Aryan steroid freak sort of way, and up close he smelled of sweat and testosterone.

“Hello, Georgie,” said Walker. “You’re looking very yourself today. How are the bowel movements?”

“Screw you, Walker,” said Georgie. “I don’t have to take any shit from you anymore. Not so high and mighty now, are you, without your Voice? Not so powerful, since you lost your precious Voice in the Lilith War! All these years you’ve interfered in my business deals, humiliated me in front of my people, just because you could . . . Well, you can’t talk to me like that anymore! It’s my time now. And your time to get what’s coming to you!”

“Friend of yours?” I said to Walker.

“Not even remotely.” Walker gazed calmly back into Georgie’s fierce gaze, and if he was at all concerned, he hid it really well. “This appalling and slightly hysterical person is Good Time Georgie. Your special go-to man in the Nightside for everything that’s bad for you, when you’re working on a low budget. Whether it’s drugs, debauchery, or demonic possession, Georgie can get it for you at a lower price than anyone else. Of course, at such prices you can’t expect guaranteed quality or customer service. Never any refunds or apologies from Good Time Georgie. Buyer beware, and there’s one born every minute.”

“That’s all you’ve got now,” said Georgie. “Words. No Voice to back them up. I’m going to break your bones, Walker, and stamp you into the floor. No one here will help you. You’ve got no friends here.” He glanced at me. “You keep out of this. It’s none of your business.”

“You smell funny,” I said. I looked at Walker. “Would you like me to . . . ?”

“No need,” said Walker.

“Really, I don’t mind. It wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“It’s only Good Time Georgie,” said Walker. “I could handle Good Time Georgie if I was unconscious.” He smiled easily into Georgie’s reddening face, completely unmoved by the man’s size or presence or anger. “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you really so sure I don’t have my Voice anymore? Would I be here in Strangefellows, without my Voice to protect me? Perhaps you’ve forgotten all the terrible things I’ve done to you down the years. Or made you do to yourself. You’re just a cheap thug, Georgie, whereas I . . . am Walker. Now go away and stop bothering me. Or I will tell you to do something deeply amusing and so extreme that people will still be laughing about it thirty years from now.”

There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in Walker’s voice. He sounded like he meant every word he said and all the ones he was just implying. Good Time Georgie hesitated, his anger draining away in the face of Walker’s calm certainty. Georgie looked around him. A lot of people had stopped what they were doing to see what would happen, but none of them looked like they had any intention of getting involved. This was Walker, after all. Georgie turned abruptly and stalked away. Walker took a sip of his Perrier, little finger extended even more than usual. And everyone went back to what they’d been doing.

“Awful fellow,” murmured Walker. “I’d have shut him down years ago, but ten more would just spring up in his place. There will always be steady business for those who come here to sin on a restricted budget.”

“Neatly handled, I thought,” I said.

“Thank you. I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“How long do you think you can keep this going before people know for sure you’re bluffing about your Voice?”

“What makes you think I’m bluffing?” said Walker.

I didn’t look at him. “Can I just ask . . . You lost your Voice originally in the Lilith War? As in, the biblical Lilith?”

“Yes.”

“Forget it. I don’t think I really want to know.”

“Very wise,” said Walker.

Behind the bar, the Portable Timeslip made a polite chiming noise to let us know its recharging was complete. The blond barmaid unplugged the pocket watch from what looked like a battery recharger on steroids and slapped the watch down on the wooden bar before Walker with a violence that made both of us wince. Walker smiled politely, tipped his bowler hat to her, and then picked up the watch and turned to me.

“We have to do this outside,” he said. “Too many built-in protections and defences inside the bar.”

“To keep creditors from getting in?” I said.

“I heard that!” said the barmaid.

“I notice you’re not denying it,” said Walker. “Let’s go, Eddie.”

Outside the bar, I got my first real look at the Nightside. Walker gave me a few moments to look around and brace myself. The Nightside was everything I’d always thought it would be: loud, sleazy, brightly coloured, and steeped in its own dangerous glamour. It was like standing on a city street in Hell. Harshly coloured lights blazed from the half-open doors of nightclubs that never closed, along with every kind of music that ever made you want to dance till you dropped, till your feet bled and your heart broke. Shops and stores, selling everything you ever dreamed of in your worst nightmares. All sins catered for, every desire encouraged. The pavements were packed with would-be customers hot for pleasures and secrets and knowledge forbidden by the outside world. Beasts and monsters moved openly among them. Anywhere else, I would have had to use my Sight to see so much, so clearly, but this was the Nightside. And this, all this, was just business as usual.

Everyone knows there’s no law in the Nightside. Just a few overseers like Walker to keep things from getting out of hand. Anything is permitted, everything is for sale. You can buy anything or anyone, do anything or anyone, and no one will stop you or call you to account. Or rescue you when things go bad. A place of casual sin and unchecked appetites, and no one gives a damn because . . . that’s what the Nightside is for. I ached to call up my armour, take my aspect upon me, and bring justice and retribution to the only city where the night never ends.

“Now you know why we don’t allow Droods in here,” said Walker. “You’re really far too simple and straightforward for a place like this. We do things differently here.”

“You can’t have sin without victims,” I said. “Who cares for them?”

“And you do take things so very personally . . . Everyone who comes to the Nightside knows what to expect, Eddie. There are no innocents here.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He sighed briefly. “There are some who do what they can. And that’s more than most of those who come here are entitled to.”