Simon Green - The Man with the Golden Torc

"You know you shouldn’t drink, Flower," Subway Sue said kindly. "It goes straight to your petals." She considered me thoughtfully. "I have to say, Edwin, you’re a more interesting sort than most of the specimens Molly drags in here. For such an intelligent woman, she has remarkably bad taste in men. I can’t help thinking the two are probably connected. You should choose men with your heart, not your head. Not that I’ve had much luck with either approach. Men! If there was an alternative that didn’t involve ending up living alone with too many cats, I’d sign up tomorrow."

There didn’t seem any obvious answer to that, so I changed the subject. "Would I be right in thinking you’ve also done work for my family?"

"Certainly not!" Subway Sue drew herself up proudly, bristling at the very thought. "I have my principles, you know."

Perhaps fortunately, Molly chose that moment to come back and rejoin us, and I turned to her with a certain amount of relief. I’ve never been very good at talking to a woman’s friends. "Did you get through? Will they see me?"

Molly nodded curtly. "I had a lot of trouble getting through to anyone that mattered, but once I made it clear I could deliver the new rogue Drood, they couldn’t wait for me to bring you in. We can go right now, if you want. The head man himself is waiting to greet you with open arms. They’ll offer you anything you want in exchange for the inside secrets of your family and a chance to examine your armour in their laboratories."

"I don’t know that I’m ready to commit myself to their cause just yet," I said carefully.

Molly snorted loudly. "I should think not, in your position. This is just a meet and greet, a chance for you and the head man to feel each other out, see if you can work together. But do yourself a favour, Drood; drive a hard bargain. Take them for everything they’ve got. Because once you’ve given up your secrets, you can’t sell them again."

"There’s more to me than just secrets," I said.

"Good bargaining position," said Molly.

"If you’re going to meet the actual leader of Manifest Destiny, I think I might come along too," Mr. Stab said suddenly. "Although I have performed some small services for them in the past, in return for very generous recompense, I have to say I’m a little irritated that they have never tried to recruit me. I would like to ask them why."

"If he’s going, I’m going too," said Girl Flower, clapping her soft little hands together delightedly. "I never get to go anywhere."

I started to object, but Molly cut me off quickly. "Oh, let them, or they’ll both sulk. Besides, it’s always easier to negotiate when you’ve got some serious backup."

She had a point. I looked inquiringly at Digger Browne, but he shook his head. "I’m afraid I have a previous engagement. My family and I are having an old friend for dinner."

"And you couldn’t get me one inch closer to Manifest Destiny if you used a whip and a chair," Subway Sue said very firmly. "I don’t trust any of these big organisations. There’s never any room in them for the private entrepreneur. And anyway, I’ve heard things about Manifest Destiny…Yes, yes, I know, Molly; you won’t hear a word said against them. But I’ve been around a lot longer than you, and there are those who’ll talk to me who won’t talk to you. I can’t help feeling there’s a lot more to Manifest Destiny than just bringing down the Droods." She looked at me with cold, piercing eyes. "Ask them all the awkward questions, Drood. Make them tell you everything, before you give them your trust."

She turned her back on us and stalked out of the Wulfshead. Digger Browne shook hands politely with all of us and followed her out. And Molly Metcalf, Girl Flower, Mr. Stab, and I went off to see Manifest Destiny. One witch of the wild woods, one elemental of rose petals and owls’ claws, one legendary serial killer, and one very confused ex-agent for the good.

Some days you just shouldn’t get up in the morning.

We left the Wulfshead Club by a back door I didn’t recognise and ended up in a dimly lit alley just off Denmark Street, deep in the dark heart of Soho. It was late evening now, with all the twilight people spilling out onto the streets, rubbing the day’s sleep from their eyes. Girding their weary loins to prey on the sheep, one more time. None of them paid us any attention. We very obviously weren’t sheep. Molly strode out into the middle of the empty road and looked around her, scowling.

"What are you looking for?" I said patiently. "You won’t find a taxi in this area, not at this time of night."

She looked back at me and sighed heavily. "All right; lecture mode. Pay attention, Drood, and you might just learn something useful. Once upon a time, way back during the most paranoid days of the Cold War, the establishment of that time arranged for the construction of a huge network of bunkers and tunnels deep under the streets of London. A last desperate bolthole to which the important personages of that time could retreat in the event of a nuclear strike. Presumably so they could continue to rule the radioactive ruins above. I love a government that thinks ahead, don’t you? Anyway, this very large bolthole was fully equipped and supplied, and very safe and secure. But the Cold War ended, officially, and the network of bunkers and tunnels was declared redundant. Abandoned and left to rot, guarded by just a few old Cold Warriors who were also pretty much redundant.

"Manifest Destiny occupies the network now, with, it is said, the winking acknowledgment of the current powers that be. Unfortunately, and this is the part you’re really going to hate, Edwin, the only way to access this network is via the city sewers. According to my contact, there’s a manhole somewhere around here that will let us into the system, so stop just standing around like a spare dick at a wedding and help me find it."

As it turned out, the manhole was right behind her. None of us said anything. She scowled down at the heavy steel cover and snapped her fingers at it, and the cover shot up into the air as though someone had goosed it. The cover hovered above us in midair, while we all gathered around the hole and peered dubiously down into it. Molly generated a witchfire, a shimmering silver glow around her left hand, but even that magical light could only show us a series of metal rungs leading down into the darkness. The smell coming out was pretty ripe, though. We all looked at each other, and finally Molly sighed heavily and led the way down into the sewers.

Once we were all inside, the manhole cover dropped back into place, sealing us in.

Underground, the smell hit me like a fist in the face. Shocked tears ran down my cheeks as I struggled to breathe only through my mouth. It didn’t help. The ladder deposited us in a long dark tunnel with curving walls and an uncomfortably low ceiling. Molly boosted her witchlight, pushing back the dark to give us a better view. The brick walls were slick with damp and slime and filth, and dark churning waters surged through a deep central channel, thick with refuse and unpleasantly familiar things floating in it. The walkway was only wide enough to accommodate two of us at a time, and the old stone beneath our feet was encrusted with foul matter. It was enough to make you vow never to use a toilet ever again. Girl Flower and Mr. Stab appeared entirely unmoved, but Molly was almost gagging from the stench. Two rats floated past us, crouched together on a particularly large…object. That was enough. I started to armour up, to protect myself from plague, but Molly whirled angrily on me.

"Don’t!" she said, in a harsh whisper. "We don’t want to attract attention."

"Attention from whom?" I said, not unreasonably. "Who else would be dumb enough to come down into the sewers at this time of night?"