Simon Green: Daemons Are Forever

I looked up, and the other helicopter was coming in for another strafing run. They were firing wildly now, half out of their minds with shock and desperation. The bullets chewed up the street and the houses, and even some of their own men. And then the bastards fired a Hellfire missile at me. Right in the middle of civilian territory. I stood my ground, braced for the impact, and caught the missile in my arms. The armour absorbed all the impact, and I bent over, hugging the missile to my chest. It exploded, and my armour absorbed most of the energy. A whole lot of windows shattered all around me, but no one was hurt. I glared up at the helicopter. I’d had enough of those idiots. They were losing it, big time. I jumped up into the air as the helicopter swept towards me and, driven by the strength in my armoured legs, I soared up and grabbed onto the front of their cockpit. The helicopter swayed and lurched wildly under the extra weight. I drew back a silver fist and punched right through the reinforced cockpit glass.

“ Get out ,” I said coldly to the two pilots.

They pushed open the cockpit doors and bailed out. I didn’t blame them. All the training in the world can’t prepare you to face a Drood field agent in his armour.

The helicopter slammed down onto the street and skidded along, throwing up sparks and smoke. I rode it the length of the street, waited till it finally screeched to a halt, and then stepped calmly down from the shattered cockpit. Some days, it’s good to be an agent. Molly strolled over to join me.

“Show-off.”

I looked around the street. Most of the armoured men were down; hurt or terrorised or not moving. The few still on their feet had thrown away their guns and were standing with their hands clasped behind their helmets. I almost had it in me to feel sorry for them. They’d thought they were coming to arrest one unarmed field agent and his girlfriend. Probably thought the size of the operation was just typical military overkill. The winds Molly had summoned up were slowly dying away, still sending furious little gusts this way and that, as though resentful at being disturbed against their will. Fires burned here and there, up and down the street, and thick black smoke curled up from the wreckage of the two helicopters.

Alpha walked slowly forward, gun and bullhorn abandoned. He stopped right before me, and to his credit he looked defeated, but not beaten. He took off his helmet, and a great many things suddenly became clear as I recognised the middle-aged face. I sent my armour back into my torc, so he could see mine.

“Philip MacAlpine,” I said. “Thought I recognised the voice. You used to have more sense than to get involved in a clusterfuck like this.”

“You know this creep?” said Molly.

“He’s with MI5,” I said. “Or at least, he used to be. Worked with Uncle James on a lot of cases, back in the day. I saw him around the Hall a lot, when I was a kid.”

“Please,” said MacAlpine. “You’re making me feel old.”

“What are you doing out in the field, Phil?” I said. “And when did you join up with Manifest Destiny?”

MacAlpine shook his head quickly. “I’m nothing to do with Truman’s private army. This is an MI5 operation; though strictly speaking of course, it isn’t, officially. This comes under DDT.”

Molly looked at me. “Pest control?”

“Department of Dirty Tricks,” I said. “Departments within departments, that don’t officially exist, for maximum deniability. Who set this up, Phil?”

He smiled briefly, and shrugged. “You know I can’t answer that, Eddie.”

“Molly,” I said calmly, “you want to turn him into something more cooperative?”

“It was all the prime minister’s idea,” MacAlpine said quickly. “He wanted us to establish whether the Droods really were as vulnerable as our intelligence suggested. So we could take the advantage while you were still weak.” He looked at the wreckage and bodies all around him. “So many good men, dead and injured. You didn’t use to be this vicious, Eddie.”

“I only kill when I have to,” I said. “You know that.”

MacAlpine looked at me, his face unreadable. “I don’t know anything about you anymore, Eddie.”

“The politicians are getting restless,” I said to Molly. “I suppose something like this was inevitable, once word started to get around. The politicians would love a chance to get their hands on a Drood and sweat some real secrets out of him. We’d better get back to the Hall; see what else is happening.” I looked back at MacAlpine. “I’m surprised to see you here, Phil. Last I heard, you’d been thrown out of Special Operations for excessive violence.”

“Don’t be silly, Eddie,” he said. “That’s how most of us get in. You must know…this won’t stop here. The prime minister’s taken too much shit from the Droods down the years not to strike back, now he sees an opportunity. All our agents are being called in, for a preemptive strike against your family. Even the old bastards like me. All sins forgiven, if not forgotten. And it won’t just be us. The whole world will be at your throat, from now on.”

I considered him thoughtfully. “Just how did you find out that the Droods don’t have their golden armour anymore?”

“Don’t be naïve, Eddie. We have a whole department dedicated to studying every move your family makes. Reports have been coming in from all over the world of Drood field agents suddenly abandoning their posts and running for home by the fastest routes possible. We know something drastic has happened inside the family, Eddie. You can’t hope to keep it secret for long. We’ll find out.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I said.

MacAlpine shrugged, started to turn away, and then looked back. “Is it true? About James?”

“Yes,” I said. “He’s dead.”

MacAlpine nodded slowly. “The old Gray Fox is gone. I thought he’d outlive us all. How did it happen?”

“Sorry,” I said. “Family business. Now tell the prime minister to back off. Tell him what happened here. Tell him about the silver armour. And tell him the family isn’t weak. Just…reorganising.”

“No doubt he can expect a call from the Matriarch?” said MacAlpine.

“Eventually,” I said. “Molly and I are leaving now. You and your people can stay, and clean all this mess up before you go. We’re supposed to fight secret wars, not endanger innocent civilians! What were you thinking of?”

“I told you,” said MacAlpine. “It’s a different world now. All the old rules have changed. Thanks to you.”

Molly and I headed back to the Hall in the Bentley. Molly sang happily along to her Ramones compilation, while I did some thinking. No one in the wrecked street would talk about what they’d seen happen, right in front of them. The usual mixture of bribes, threats, and the magic words terrorists and national security would see to that. All camcorders and camera phones would be confiscated, and if anybody did get stubborn and try to talk to the media, the government would slap on as many D notices as necessary to muzzle them. Any real troublemakers…would be made to forget. It’s a secret war, in an invisible world, and people have to stay ignorant if we’re to protect them.

I still had a lot of unanswered questions. How had MacAlpine known exactly when to stake out my flat? That much armour and manpower takes a lot of advance organising. Somebody must have talked, and the only people who knew…were family. I’d known there were still members of the Zero Tolerance faction who hoped to sabotage and undermine me, so they could seize back control of the family…but to talk to outsiders? To politicians? That was crossing the line.