Simon Green - The Man with the Golden Torc

"Show me," I said.

The Mole worked the remote controls on the arm of his chair, and the biggest plasma screen before us suddenly blared into new life, showing Manifest Destiny forces attacking three golden armoured figures right out in the open. The depth and definition of the image was outstanding, complete with full surround sound. It was just like being in the thick of the battle. I could almost smell the blood and smoke. Truman must have sent half an army to bring down the Drood field agents who’d dared defy him; and much good it had done him. Armoured cars, armoured soldiers, attack helicopters raining down fire from above…The street was full of thick black smoke from burning buildings, and burnt-out armoured cars, but still the three golden figures moved through the thick of it, untouched.

They slammed through the advancing soldiers with supernatural speed, killing with a touch and moving on. The dead and the dying lay in piles up and down the street. The golden figures overturned armoured cars with a single heave, moving unscathed through a hail of bullets and explosions. A black helicopter came in low for a strafing run, and one golden figure leapt straight up into the air, propelled by the strength in his golden legs. He clung onto the side of the helicopter, ripped the door off with one hand, and disappeared inside. He threw the crew out one at a time, and they fell screaming to their deaths. The agent stayed on board just long enough to aim the crashing helicopter at an armoured vehicle, and then he jumped free at the last moment, landing easily and gracefully as his armoured legs soaked up the impact. Manifest Destiny had every advantage of modern warfare on their side, and it didn’t do them a damned bit of good against three Drood field agents.

It almost made me proud to be a Drood, to see so few standing firm against so many. Almost.

"That last one had to be Matthew," said the Mole. "Always was a show-off."

"How the hell are they going to hush this up?" said Molly, staring fascinated at the carnage. "This much death and destruction, a war zone, right in the middle of London?"

"Do you see any media people present?" said the Mole. "Any television crews or news photographers? Any paparazzi even? No. These days, if it doesn’t appear on the television news or in the tabloids, it didn’t happen. Any civilian witnesses will have their memories altered, all CCTV footage will disappear, and the damage will be blamed on whatever terrorists are the latest bogeymen. Or perhaps on a gas explosion. Or a plane falling out of the sky. Whatever the family decides. Yes. Oh, stories will get out; they always do. The Net does so love its urban legends. But no one will ever know the truth. The family’s had a lot of practice at burying the truth. Oh yes."

"How are we seeing this?" I said. "If there aren’t any camera crews there…"

"I have cameras everywhere, remember?" said the Mole, blinking proudly. "I can tap into any CCTV, any and all security systems, plus a whole bunch of assorted surveillance technology that my people have planted in unobtrusive places. I have eyes and ears in every major city in the world. Plus all those smaller places that the world doesn’t know are important. Though I’m still having trouble getting into Area 53…But nothing happens in London that I don’t know about sooner or later. Oh, no…I knew you’d come down here looking for me, even before you did. Oh, yes! I had plenty of time to think about whether I was going to let you in here, Edwin. It helped that you brought Molly with you. A double agent would never have hooked up with the infamous Molly Metcalf."

He ignored Molly’s bristling, intent on the mayhem filling the big screen. The Manifest Destiny soldiers were in full retreat, pursued by the three field agents. The Mole giggled.

"Good thing I’m recording this. I know people who’ll pay good money to see Drood field agents in action. And others who’ll pay even more to see Manifest Destiny getting their nasty arses kicked so convincingly. Oh, that reminds me. Excuse me a moment while I make sure the machines are recording all my soaps properly. I hate it when I miss an episode because the machines have recorded the wrong channel again."

He gave all his attention to fussing with his remote controls while Molly and I took the opportunity to move a few steps away and talk quietly with each other. I kept my voice really low. I wouldn’t put it past the Mole to bug his own lair, just in case.

"What do you think?" I murmured. "Can we trust him? I get the feeling he’s not too tightly wrapped, to be honest."

"What did you expect?" said Molly just as quietly. "He’s lived down here in seclusion for God knows how many years, his only contact with the world what he sees on his screens and hears on the Net. Like Oddly John: if he wasn’t crazy when he came down here, he almost certainly is now."

"But he says he knows things."

"Oh, he does. But whether they’re real things, or helpful things…It’s up to you, Eddie, to get him to tell you what you need to know. I mean, the Mole’s a sweetie, but he literally doesn’t live in the same world as the rest of us anymore."

"Then why did you bring me down here?" I said just a little tetchily.

"Because the Mole genuinely does know some things that no one else knows."

"Whispering is very bad manners," the Mole said loudly. "And we are not at home to Mister Rude."

"Sorry," I said. "We didn’t want to disturb you. I was hoping you might know some things I need to know."

"Try me," the Mole said grandly. "I am wise and know many things. Yes. Including a whole lot I’m not supposed to know."

"Do you know why I was declared rogue?" I said flatly. "Why the Matriarch wants me dead so badly?"

"Ah," said the Mole, his face dropping. He clasped his podgy hands across his protruding belly. "I’m not privy to our family’s inner workings. Not anymore. No. I couldn’t even tell you why I was made rogue." He blinked at me sadly through his heavy glasses and sighed wistfully. "Back then, I was a respected family scholar. Never been out in the world, never wanted to. I was working on an officially sanctioned history of the family. Full access to the library, access to all documents, interview anyone I wanted. Lots of fascinating stories…The next thing I know I’m on the run, with the pack baying at my heels. Luckily I was something of a voyeur, even then." He sniggered. "Nothing malicious. Not really. I just liked knowing things…It paid off, though; I was already out of the Hall with as many valuables as I could stuff into a backpack before they’d officially given the order to detain me. Oh, yes…I went to ground here. I knew about this place. I’m not the first Mole under London, you know. There were others before me, for various reasons. I just built on what they started.

"But I still don’t know why I was outlawed. After all my years of digging and probing and listening at electronic keyholes, I’m still no wiser. No. I can only assume…I must have been on the edge of discovering something really important, some deep dark family secret that the Droods have to keep hidden at all costs…I just wish I knew what it was. I’d sell it to everyone, just to make the family pay for what they did to me."

Another dead end. I scowled, thinking. "That reminds me a lot of what happened to the old librarian," I said finally.

"Ah, yes," said the Mole. "Poor old William. You know what happened to him?"

"Yes," I said. "Molly and I went to visit him this morning. He couldn’t tell us much."

"I’m amazed he told you anything," said the Mole. "I’ve been sending people in to talk to him for years, without success. You must tell me absolutely everything he said to you before you go, so I can record it. Everything, every word. Yes. I’ll study the recordings later, see if I can cross-reference any useful connections."