From Hell with Love

CHAPTER SIX Lord of the Flies

If there’s one thing in life I can rely on, it’s that every time I go home to Drood Hall, just when you think things can’t get any worse, they do. We all looked around, as yet again there came the sound of approaching footsteps. They were slow and unhurried, not even trying to hide themselves. Rafe threw up his hands, and looked like he might actually stamp his foot. I’d never seen him this angry before. It was quite entertaining.I’d “I don’t believe it! Who the hell is it this time? Am I going to have to put up barbed wire and lay down some land mines, just to have to put up barbed wire and lay down some land mines, just to get a little privacy around here? This is not a lending library!”

“I came down here to get away from the family,” said William, wistfully. “Now it seems they’re following me down here. Maybe we should lay in some more cots. And another chemical toilet. I’m not sharing.”

“I don’t think they’re here for you,” I said.

“How very typical,” murmured Harry. “You always assume it’s all about you, Edwin.”

“To my continuing displeasure, mostly it is,” I said. “I think I recognise those arrogant, overbearing footsteps. Over here, Cedric.”

The Sarjeant-at-Arms appeared at the end of the stacks, paused briefly to fix us all with a fierce glare, so we could all get a good look at him, and then he strode officiously forward, heading straight for me. I struck a casual pose, just to annoy him. He crashed to a halt before me, sniffed loudly, and glared right into my face.

“Edwin Drood,” he said, in his best formal voice, “I am here to arrest you, on behalf of the family.”

“You see?” I said to Harry. “It is all about me. Aren’t you jealous? Don’t you wish he was here to arrest you?”

“I told you I always know where everyone is,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms, as if I hadn’t spoken. “There’s nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide in the Hall, that I can’t find you.”

“Hide from you?” I said. “Perish the thought. We always have such fun together. Are you here on your own, Sarjeant? No backup? You really think you can take me, without an army to drag me down?”

“I don’t need an army. I’m the Sarjeant-at-Arms. You will come with me, Edwin, because to do otherwise would be to defy the will of the family. Are you really ready to be declared rogue again?”

“Arrested,” I said thoughtfully. “For what, exactly?”

“As a material witness,” the Sarjeant said calmly. “For suspected involvement in the murder of Martha Drood. As a suspected accomplice of the suspected murderer, the witch Molly Metcalf. I am sorry about what happened to her. You have my word that I will track down whoever it was that drove the mob to a killing madness, and I will see them punished. But it doesn’t change anything.”

“No,” I said. “Nothing ever really changes, when it comes to me and the family. How many times do I have to prove myself?”

“No one is bigger than the family,” said the Sarjeant. “Now come along with me. You’ll be kept safe and secure, until your trial.”

“Like Sebastian was kept safe, inside the isolation ward?” I said. “No one even saw his killer come and go. Lock me up, and I won’t live long enough to stand trial.”

“That will not be allowed to happen to you,” said the Sarjeant, his face and voice entirely unmoved. “You ˚ will be kept under twenty-four watch, for your own protection.”

“This must feel like all your birthdays come at once, Sarjeant,” I said. “But what about the Apocalypse Door, and Doctor Delirium?”

“The family does have other field agents, Edwin. Really quite competent ones. They will deal with the problem. You are not irreplaceable. Now come with me. The needs of the family must always come first.”

“No,” I said. “Not always. Because the family doesn’t always know what’s best for it.”

“And you do?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“And you say I’m the arrogant one,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms.

We were staring right into each other’s faces when William suddenly pushed himself between us.

“You can’t fight here!” he said sharply. “What are you thinking of? This is the Old Library, repository of Drood knowledge! I will not risk these books being destroyed, and precious knowledge lost! You can’t fight here; I forbid it!”

“Step aside please, Librarian,” said the Sarjeant. “I must do my duty. Some things are more important than books.”

William suddenly threw his arms around the Sarjeant, pinning his arms to his sides and holding him in place. Since he was only half the Sarjeant’s size, this was impressive.

“Go, Edwin!” William said loudly. “Do what you have to do! I’ll hold him!”

The Sarjeant stood very still, though he could have thrown the Librarian off just by flexing his chest muscles. He looked rather embarrassed.

“Please, Uncle William. Let me go. I have no intention of taking Edwin anywhere.”

We all looked at him. William let go, just a bit shamefacedly, and stepped back. The Sarjeant cleared his throat, and looked at me.

“As you said, Edwin, if I ˚ was going to take you away by force, I’d have brought reinforcements with me. A lot of them. But from what my CSI people have already told me, it’s clear neither you nor Molly were involved in Martha’s murder. However, there is still a large faction in the family who want you arrested, on general principles, and it will make my investigation easier if people don’t know I’ve already cleared you. Since I know where every member of the family is, at any given time, it wouldn’t be plausible for me to say I couldn’t find you. So I have tracked you down here, and arrested you, in front of these impeccable family witnesses. Not my fault that you got away afterwards, is it? I told you, Edwin. I’m the sneaky one.”

“So you are,” I said. “But why are you letting me go?”

“It is clear to me that Molly Metcalf was murdered because you were getting too close to the truth, over whatever is going on with Doctor Delirium and the Apocalypse Door,” said the Sarjeant. “So it is clearly in the best interests of the family to let you continue your investigations.”

I looked at Harry, who shrugged. “Far be it for me to stand in the way of greatness. Off you go, and save the world again. I’ll do my best to hold the family together in your absence.”

Roger Morningstar just smiled briefly. “Bye, Eddie. See you in Hell.”

I nodded briefly to them all, and strode quickly away. And the moment I was out of sight behind the next stack, I called up the Merlin Glass and went travelling again.

I stepped through the glass into the War Room. I wasn’t done with the Hall yet. There were things I needed to know, and the War Room always had the most up-to-date information. No alarms sounded when I appeared out of nowhere right in the middle of the most closely guarded part of the Hall, though they very definitely should have. The Merlin Glass was learning, and I had to wonder what its limits might be. Still, that was a problem for another day. I had enough on my plate as it was. The Glass took its time about disappearing, in a smug sort of way.

The War Room is a vast auditorium carved out of the solid rock beneath Drood Hall. From here, we see everything—or at least, everything that matters. The whole world is our playing field, and we don’t miss a trick. The stone walls are covered in row upon row of state-of-the-art display screens, showing every country, place and individual of interest in the whole world. And not just the parts the official maps show. Lights blazed on all the screens, showing developing situations and all the places where the family was at work. A green light for every successfully completed mission; blue for persons of immediate interest, or those on our current hit list; amber for potential trouble sites; and red for a current threat. There was a hell of a lot of red on the screens, but that was just business as usual in the War Room.

This is where the family makes the decisions that keep the world turning.

Men and women sat in long rows, concentrating on their workstations. Farcasters peered into their crystal balls, while technicians worked their computers, and a whole crowd of people murmured constantly in the communications centre. Runners hurried quickly back and forth with urgent information. Chatter was kept to a minimum, and no one hung around the watercooler. The new head of the War Room ran a right ship. The only one allowed to have hissy fits and throw things was him.

Callan Drood hadn’t been in charge long, but he applied himself to his new position with all his usual vim and vigour. He looked a lot thinner than the last time I’d seen him, and a hell of a lot more intense. If that was possible. He was dressed smartly, as befitted his new authority, but wore it awkwardly, as though he was wearing it only because he’d been told to. His thin blond hair had been cut raggedly, and was plastered to his head with sweat. He stood right in the middle of it all, glaring about him, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to see everything at once. His mouth was a flat compressed line, when he wasn’t shouting at someone.

He just nodded distractedly when I made myself known to him, and gestured abruptly for me to wait until he was ready to talk to me. Everyone made a lot of allowances for Callan. Word was, he was still adjusting to the new torc he’d been given, after the Blue Fairy had ripped the last one from around his throat, during the Hungry Gods War. Mind you, a lot of us thought he was just putting it on, to let him get away with things. Callan was like that. When he finally deigned to give me some of his attention, all the time he was talking one or other of his hands would sneak up to touch or play with the torc at his throat, as though to reassure himself it was still there.

“Eddie. As if I didn’t have enough problems. Why aren’t you under arrest, and safely locked up, rather than coming here and bothering me? I have work to do. Important work. I’m in charge here, you know! It’s a mistake, but I’m not going to tell them. I have a room on the second floor now. With a view! Not much of a view, admittedly, but . . . Look, I could say I’m glad to see you, but we both know I don’t meant it, so what’s the point? Tell me what it is you need me to do, so I can do it and get you the hell out of my War Room.”

“Hello, Callan,” I said. “I think we need to review your medication again.”

“Oh, would you? I’d be ever so grateful. Look at the situation screens. Look at them! I haven’t seen this many flashing lights in one place since I was at a San Francisco disco. Everyone out there’s talking about the Apocalypse Door, even if most of them aren’t entirely sure what it is, yet. Some of the rumours are getting really extreme. Everyone’s going on a war footing, just in case, and a lot of them are already planning to get their retaliation in first. It’s a mess . . . I’ve got field agents reporting subterranean action and intrigue all over the world. Tell me you’ve got a plan to deal with all this, Eddie. Lie to me if you must. I won’t mind.”

“Can you show me where Doctor Delirium’s secret base is located these days?” I said.

“Oh sure! No problem. There’s not many people can hide from us for long, and Doctor Delirium wouldn’t even make the short list. He’s very predictable, and he never learns.”

He had one of his people task an orbiting surveillance satellite to show us where Doctor Delirium had gone to ground, this time. We could launch our own satellites, but it’s always been more cost efficient to hitch a ride on the existing ones. Never any shortage of spy satellites.

“It’s a Russian eye in the sky, but they won’t notice we’re piggy-backing the signal,” said Callan. “We like to keep an eye on Doctor Delirium’s movements, but after that business at LA we’ve upgraded the Doctor from nuisance to actual threat. Don’t suppose you know what the Apocalypse Door is, do you, Eddie?”

“Trust me,” I said. “You really don’t want to know.”

“Oh . . .” said Callan. “One of those . . . Batten down the hatches, people! It’s going to be a long night! Extra tea and jaffa cakes for everyone, and someone get me a refill of those nice little blue pills.” He looked at me, suddenly very sober. “Is it true? Is the Matriarch really dead?”

“Yes,” I said. “She’s gone.”

“I still can’t believe it. Not her, of all people. I thought she’d go on forever. I’ll miss her. I don’t think she ever approved of me much, but she never let me forget what it meant to be a Drood. I’ve had all my people on full alert, ever since I heard. This would be a really good time for an enemy attack, while we’re all so disorganised. Maybe that’s why they killed her? Cut off our head, and we’d all run around in circles? They don’t know us. They don’t know Droods.”

“The Sarjeant-at-Arms is on the case,” I said. “Now, Doctor Delirium . . .”

“Can’t show you the base itself,” said Callan, immediately all business again. “It’s hidden from view, under the jungle canopy. The Amazon rain forest is bigger than some countries, and most of it has never been mapped. But we can give you a pretty specific location.” He pointed to one particular display screen, now showing an aerial view of the jungle. ˚ From really quite high up. The tightly packed greenery stretched away for miles, dark and unbroken, like the surface of an unknown planet. One of Callan’s people obligingly put a large red cross over one area.

“And you’re sure he’s there, because?” I said.

Callan smiled smugly. “Abnormal energy spikes, unique electromagnetic fields, and far too many human life signs coming and going in what should be nothing more than miles and miles of jungle. And because we’ve got a low-level spy tucked away inside his organisation, who keeps us up to date on his every move. Technology is all very well and good, but you can’t beat cheating and a good-sized bribe to get you results.”

“I think it’s time I dropped in on Doctor Delirium, for a little head to head,” I said. “And maybe a slap or two, to put him in his place. Contact the local field agent, and tell him I’m going in. Do we know how far he is from Doctor Delirium’s new base?”

“Conrad’s already heading in the right direction, but given how far off the map the Doctor is now, even at best speed . . . forty-eight hours. Minimum. It’s a big area, Eddie. It’s not like there’s a local bus. What are you going to do, grab a ride on one of the Blackhawkes, and then parachute in?”

“I think I can do better than that,” I said. “Tell Conrad to make his best speed, and join up with me at the base.”

I called the Merlin Glass into my hand, and shook it out into a door. Through the gap, I could immediately see the same aerial view of the jungle as on the display screen. The Merlin Glass was on the job. Callan looked at me sulkily.

“It’s not fair. You always get the best toys! When I was in the field, I couldn’t even get a short-range teleport bracelet without filling out a dozen forms in triplicate. Did you know the Armourer once used one to take care of a kidney stone? Just programmed the bracelet and then teleported across the Armoury, leaving the kidney stone behind?”

“Certainly sounds like the Armourer,” ˚ I said.

“Wonder whether it would work with haemorrhoids . . .”

“You know very well you weren’t allowed gadgets in the field because you kept losing them,” I said, quickly changing the subject. “You were legendary for not knowing where you’d put things. The Armourer still keeps a list of all the things you’ve lost on his wall, and when I say lost, I also include broken and exploded. How can anyone misplace an enchanted motorbike?”

Callan shrugged. “It’s a gift. Not everyone could do it.”

I looked through the open door standing before me. The jungle canopy didn’t have a red cross superimposed over it, but I was sure the Glass could take me to the exact spot. It had never let me down yet. So I gave Callan a cheery wave good-bye, stepped through the Merlin Glass, and found myself high up in the sky, falling more and more rapidly towards the jungle canopy below.

“Stupid bloody literal Glass! ”

The Merlin Glass had already disappeared back into its subspace pocket, leaving me plummeting towards the jungle, grabbing handfuls of fresh air along the way. I turned myself over so that I could look straight down. I really was a hell of a long way up. The cold air slammed against me, buffeting me this way and that and tugging at my clothes, but not slowing me down in the least. My first thought was to summon the Glass back, and go somewhere else through it, but I was already travelling at such a speed that my arrival at another destination would prove just as tricky. Besides, I’d come here to get my hands on Doctor Delirium, and I wasn’t giving up yet.

So I subvocalised my activating Words, and armoured up. The golden strange matter flowed swiftly from my torc, and engulfed me in a moment from head to toe. The air that had been slamming me about with increasing force was immediately cut off, and I could breathe more easily. I hadn’t realised how cold I was, until the armour warmed me up again. I was still falling hard, but the jungle canopy didn’t look that much closer. I had time to think about this.

I concentrated hard, and huge golden glider wings spread out from my armoured back. They cupped the air, and slowed me down some. I was still falling, but at least now I had some control. The armour couldn’t fly, but by gliding in a series of tight circles, I was at least slowing my descent. I spiralled down and down, the huge green jungle rotating swiftly beneath me. I fell and fell, and I made a point of enjoying as much of it as I could. On the grounds I’d probably never have such an experience again. The jungle canopy suddenly leapt up towards me, becoming clearer and more detailed with every moment. I waited as long as I dared, and then pulled the glider wings back in, curled up into a foetal ball, and braced myself as best I could.

I hit the canopy hard, like being thrown naked through a brick wall. I punched through the outer layers in a moment, my armour protecting me from the worst of the impact. It still knocked the stuffing out of me. I smashed through layer after layer of the canopy, slamming through one thick branch after another, shearing them off their trunks. Each breaking branch threw me back and forth, knocking me out of my curled-up ball. My arms and legs flailed helplessly. All I could see was a green blur, with dark shapes rising swiftly up to hit me again and again.

I was still falling at a dangerous speed, trees and greenery whipping past me so fast I lost all track of which way was up. We Droods trust our armour to protect us from everything, but that’s only because we haven’t tested it against absolutely everything yet. It was entirely possible that the golden armour might survive the fall intact, but I’d be crushed to jelly inside it. The continuous impact of branch after branch was slowing my fall, and I grabbed at every passing branch as I fell, but they all broke off in my hands. I fought to turn myself over, so I was facing down, and the ground shot suddenly up and hit me in the face.

I don’t think I’ve ever hit anything that hard in my life. Riding a collapsing hotel from the penthouse floor down to the lobby, from the inside, was nothing compared to this. ˚ The ground hit me like a flyswatter, the impact jarred every bone in my body, and the world went away for a while. When I slowly came back to myself, I ached all over but . . . I was alive. I just lay there for a while, enjoying the idea of not being suddenly dead after all, my golden mask buried deep in the dirt of the jungle floor. I slowly got my breathing back under control, wriggled my toes and fingers to make sure everything was connected, and grinned stupidly. The armour had got me through again.

I pushed down hard with my golden arms, and slowly forced myself up and out of the hard compressed earth. Light returned as dirt fell away from my golden mask, and when I finally rose to my feet I found I was at the bottom of a deep crater. I’d hit the jungle floor like a meteor, and blown out enough earth to make a hole a good twenty feet in diameter. Steam was still rising from the smooth sides. I punched holes in the compacted dirt of the crater walls, and used them to climb up out of the hole.

The jungle pressed in close all around me, crowding right up to the rim of the crater. The trees were packed tightly together, stretching away in all directions, the space between them filled with hanging lianas from above, and thick bushy undergrowth. The only open space was the one I’d made, by falling through it. Broken branches and splintered stumps showed down the stripped sides of trees, and bits of broken vegetation were still floating slowly down. The thick overhead canopy blocked out most of the light, lending the jungle floor a gloomy, twilight ambience. Bright light streamed down through the hole I’d made, so that I seemed to be standing in a golden spotlight. Dust motes danced and swooped in the illuminated air.

I moved out of the spotlight. It made me feel like a target. I amped up the mask’s sensory input, and the stench of the jungle hit me like a fist in the face; all rot and decay and thick unfamiliar smells. Out of the spotlight, I could see a long way into the twilight, but everything was packed ˚ so closely together it was hard to make out any details. There were large animals out there, watching me silently from a cautious distance, but none of them seemed interested in bothering me. Inside my armour, I gave off no scent to mark me as prey.

The jungle was full of sound: growls and howls, cries and screams, coming from every direction at once as the jungle got on with life as usual. It was all eat or be eaten, with a hell of a lot of running in between. Higher up, there was a constant squalling of disturbed birds. I caught brief flashes of gorgeous colours, and the occasional rush of disturbed air, but the birds kept their distance. The loudest, closest sounds were the buzzings, clickings and rustlings of the millions of insects that swarmed all over the jungle floor. Any number of little darting things flicked through the air, while a great sea of motion swirled around my feet. There were ants and beetles and things I couldn’t even put a name to, boiling all around me. I saw centipedes as long as my arm, rippling slowly as they moved, and tiptoeing spiders as big as my fist. Some tried to climb up onto my feet, but just slid back down again, unable to gain any purchase on the armour. The bigger ones kept well away; I think the armour upset them.

I turned the sensory levels back down again; it was all just too much to bear. And I’d already spotted what I was looking for. The Merlin Glass, for all its bloody-minded literalness, had delivered me to the right spot. I could see Doctor Delirium’s secret base, not half a mile away, glowing brightly in the sun beyond the trees.

There was no track or trail, or anything like a path, so I just moved forward in a straight line, forcing my way through the thick masses of vegetation by sheer brute strength. I kicked through the undergrowth, broke protruding tree branches with my hands, and elbowed aside the smaller trees. Nothing in the jungle could stand against me. Sometimes, when I’m in the armour, it feels like I’m moving through a paper world. Through something less real than me. I try not to let it affect me. It’s a dangerous thing to believe. The armour can make you feel like a god, but it’s important to remember that it’s only as good as the idiot inside it.

Hanging lianas slapped against my shoulders and tied to curl around my arms, but I just tore them away and continued on. The bushy undergrowth didn’t even slow me down. Thorns three or four inches long, thick as spikes, clattered harmlessly against my armour. I could hear small things hissing and squealing under my feet, and made a point not to look down. The larger local wildlife continued to observe me, from a respectful distance.

A huge millipede, nine or ten feet long, fell on me from above, and I made a high-pitched startled sound despite myself. The millipede tried to coil around my head and shoulders, failed to find any footing, and dropped away. I cringed, even inside my armour. I’ve never liked insects. Especially ones big enough to have forgotten their proper place in the scheme of things.

A large spatter of bird poo hit my right arm, white against the gold. I flexed the muscle, and the poo flew away as though shot from a gun, leaving nothing of itself behind. It was such a familiar reaction, I didn’t even have to think about it. (London is, after all, a city full of pigeons.)

The tree line came to a sudden halt, looking out across a vast earth clearing. I stopped in the shadow of the last trees, to take a good look at Doctor Delirium’s base. The first thing that struck me was that there was no sign of movement anywhere. No guards, no people, nothing. And all the jungle sounds had died away. No living thing had followed me to the edge of the clearing. No birds sang, no wildlife stirred. Even the insects at my feet seemed strangely subdued. As though something about the base frightened them . . . I held my position, studying the characterless buildings carefully, looking as far down the empty dirt streets as I could. There was something unnatural about such stillness, such silence . . .

I stepped forward, leaving the jungle behind me, and moved out into the earth clearing. Immediately a powerful force field seized me and held me in place, brought into being by my presence. It pinned me to the spot, great waves of energy coruscating around my armoured form, while small stabbing lightnings crawled all over it, searching for a weak spot and a way in. The air shimmered like heat haze, and the dirt at my feet was scorched black by discharging energies. But powerful as the field was, it was no match for my armour. It couldn’t touch me.

I flexed my golden arms slowly, testing the strength of the field holding me in place. There was a definite tension, a solid resistance, like pulling against chains, but nothing the armour couldn’t handle. I leaned forward, into the field, and set my strength against it. The lightnings jumped furiously, and great sparks detonated on the air, but I moved forward, step by step, chest stuck out as though breasting a tide, and the field could not stop me. I walked right through it, and suddenly it fell away, defeated. The crawling energies were gone, the air was clear again, and there was nothing left to stop me walking into Doctor Delirium’s secret base.

I looked around me, braced for an attack from any direction, ready for shouting guards with big guns, or mercenaries with super-science weapons . . . but there was nothing. Just the silence and the stillness and the empty dirt streets. Except, when I looked carefully, there was something. The slow buzzing of flies, not far away.

Inside the huge earth clearing, the sun shone harshly on blunt and ugly steel and glass structures, presumably the science labs, surrounded by blocks of simple wooden terraces, low-ceiling huts mostly, the size of a village. It had clearly all been built for function, not style; thrown up quickly by people who had been on the move before, and were prepared to move again at a moment’s notice. Doctor Delirium’s little kingdom was a shabby state of affairs. The main building dominated the centre of the village, a steel and glass monument to the Doctor’s ego. His main science lab, where he let his genius run riot.

I started down the narrow street, heading for the main lab. I was still tense, my skin crawling in anticipation of the attack I’d never see coming. From some hidden gun position, or some automated defence system like the perimeter force field. The sound of my heavy feet crashing on the ground carried clearly in the hush, and my golden armour blazed brightly under the hot sun, but still nothing moved in the streets between the low buildings. Nothing but me.

The sound of buzzing flies was getting louder.

I rounded a corner, and there on the street ahead were a series of vague black shapes. I couldn’t work out what they were until I got close enough to disturb the black blanket of flies, and they sprang up into the air, leaving the bodies behind. There were dozens of them, stretching the whole length of the street. I looked back and forth, checking the side streets, and the bodies were everywhere. Dark huddled shapes, buried under flies. The dead men and women lay alone, in twos and threes, and in great piled-up heaps. I made myself walk on, flies buzzing angrily all around me now, harsh and strident. I stepped around and over bodies, some dressed in black and gold, others clearly scientists and workmen. Their ragged clothes were soaked in blood and their wounds were terrible. Flies crawled all over them, jumping up when I came close, and settling again after I’d passed.

The whole place was a Jonestown—everyone was dead. Only here, the people hadn’t killed themselves; they’d killed each other. I moved out of one street and onto another, and the dead lay everywhere, broken and butchered. I knelt down to examine some of the bodies, waving the flies away with my golden hand. They hung on the air nearby, buzzing angrily but unwilling to approach my armour. I checked out the extent and origins of the wounds with my golden fingers. I didn’t have to bother about infection, as long as I didn’t armour down. The stench, of spilled blood and exposed guts, of so many dead people, suddenly became too much for me and I shut down the mask’s ˚ scent detectors. I daren’t armour down long enough to throw up. I straightened up, and stepped back from the bodies.

I felt sick, in my stomach and in my soul. I had no place here, in this village of the dead. I wanted to turn and run and get the hell away, leave this madness behind. People aren’t supposed to see things like this, do things like this. But I was a field agent, and I had work to do. I’d be weak later, when I had time. And if I had nightmares later, well, that came with the job, sometimes. Something terrible had happened here, and I had to find out how and why, to make sure it could never happen again. Duty and responsibility have their uses—they keep us going when courage might not be enough.

I made myself let the stench back in. It wasn’t so bad, knowing it was coming. And bad as it undoubtedly was, there wasn’t much actual decomp. Blood and guts, yes, but not much rot or decay. Given the blazing heat of the overhead sun, this wholesale slaughter couldn’t have happened that long ago. This . . . was a recent massacre. Whoever or whatever had done this, I hadn’t missed it by much.

So many dead. Dozens, maybe hundreds. I hardened my heart, and concentrated on the evidence. It was the only way to stay sane. I moved slowly, steadily forward, and the flies leapt on the air around me, buzzing hungrily. From the nature of the wounds, these people had shot each other until they’d run out of bullets, used the guns as clubs until they broke, and then they went at each other with machetes and axes, all kinds of improvised weapons, and finally, their bare hands. Empty guns with shattered butts lay discarded to every side, and bullet casings glistened in the bright sunlight. There was bullet damage all around, riddling the wooden walls of the surrounding huts. The sheer savagery of the wounds suggested . . . an overwhelming rage, a desperate vicious need to kill.

For a moment I was back in the Hall, as the mob killed my Molly, stabbing her over and over again.

These people had shot and stabbed ˚ and hacked at each other, gouging great wounds in unprotected flesh. Hands cut off, bodies decapitated. Some had died with their hands locked around each other’s throats, a grip so fierce it had not relaxed even in death. Others had died with their arms buried deep in opened-up guts. One man had yanked out his opponent’s intestines, while his enemy had thrust his thumbs into his attacker’s eyes. There were never any signs of defensive wounds. These people had been so intent on killing they hadn’t even tried to protect themselves. Many of them looked as though they’d been attacked by wild animals, rather than anything human. But the real clue, as to what had happened here, lay in the faces of the dead. They were all the same: withered and ancient, burned out by the terrible forces that had raged within them. I knew what this was. I’d seen it before.

Everyone in Doctor Delirium’s secret base had been given the Acceleration Drug. It could make you superhuman, for a while; incredibly fast and strong, inhumanly resistant to pain and punishment. But the Drug burned up all the years of your life, to fuel the superhuman abilities. A lifetime’s energies, to make a man superhuman for a few days, or even just a few hours. They started out as Manifest Destiny’s shock troops, created to be thrown against the Droods in armour. They fought well, and died quickly, like so many superpowered mayflies.

But they were fanatics; they knew what they were getting into. They paid the price willingly, the fools. This . . . was different.

I straightened up from examining a body that had been torn open from throat to crotch, and flicked the blood from my golden hands. The flies settled happily on the body again as I turned away. On the wall before me was a huge bloody stain, splattered across the whitewashed wood from top to bottom, spattered here and there with bloody bits and pieces. It took me a while to figure out what it was, until I looked down, and saw the deep footprints in the dirt, leading straight to the great stain. An Accelerated Man had run into the wall at superhuman speed, and exploded across it when he hit. Larger pieces had slid slowly down the wall, leaving dark trails behind them. There was nothing left on the ground to identify, even after I’d waved the flies away. It had all just . . . shattered, under the impact.

I wondered if he’d even tried to stop.

I walked on down the street, still heading for the main science lab. Halfway down, a house had collapsed in on itself, as though a bomb had gone off inside. I took a moment to peer through the empty window frame. In the gloom, I could make out several bodies, and bits of bodies. They’d destroyed the house, and brought it down upon themselves, because they couldn’t break off from killing each other.

I hurried down the street, and turned into another, feeling like the only living thing in this place of the dead. I’d stopped trying to count the bodies, or even estimate their numbers. There were just too many. The closer I got to the main lab, the more there were. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of once rational men and women, driven to slaughter every living thing they saw by some insane rage. I wondered if they laughed, or cried. Or whether they’d been driven beyond such limited emotions.

Someone would pay for this. I would not stand for this. I would see someone paid, in blood and suffering.

I stopped abruptly, and looked quickly back and forth. I’d heard something. The first real sounds I’d heard in this place, apart from the constant maddening buzzing of the flies. I turned around and around, trying to pin down the sound. A rapid, repetitive noise, moving incredibly fast. My head snapped from left to right, following the sound. And then it suddenly changed direction, growing louder and more urgent as it headed right for me. I looked down a side street, and there was an Accelerated Man, sprinting towards me so quickly he was little more than a blur. My armoured mask slowed the image down for me, so I could get a better look. He was running horribly quickly, much faster than a man was meant to move. His arms flailed wildly, his ribs rising and falling so quickly I could actually hear them cracking and splintering under the strain. His feet dug deep ragged holes in the earth path, throwing puffs of dust and dirt up behind him. His clothes were ragged, and soaked in blood. More blood was spattered across his wild face, with its feral smile.

He covered the whole length of the street in just a few moments. Even with my armour speeding up my perceptions, I still had no time to react. I couldn’t evade or stop him. All I could do was stand my ground, and brace myself. The Accelerated Man slammed right into me at incredible speed, but the impact didn’t budge me back one inch. I felt nothing, even as I heard his bones crack and break and shatter as he slammed into me. He was thrown back, blood flying on the air, but somehow he still kept his feet. He regained his balance, and then bent forward sharply and threw up. There was blood in the vomit, and other things. He’d damaged himself seriously, inside. But still he wouldn’t fall. The Acceleration Drug kept him on his feet, and the rage in his face kept him going.

He snatched up something from the ground. At first I thought it was a club, but as he waved it before me I realised it was a human thighbone, with blood and meat still on it. He flailed at me with the long bone, attacking me with superhuman strength and speed. But the bone just shattered against my armour, reducing itself to splinters in his hand. He finally made a sound—a high wailing scream of frustration, because he couldn’t hurt me. I speeded up my armour’s reflexes to match his Accelerated speed, slapped what was left of the bone out of his hand, and grabbed his forearms with my hands. He tried to break free, using all his strength, and his arm bones snapped.

And then suddenly his face grew older, sprouting thousands of wrinkles, years piling on in a moment. His eyes sank back into his skull, and the fierce light went out of his gaze. His strength and speed all ran out, and I was ˚ holding a man so ancient it was a wonder he was still alive. I let go of him, and he fell to his knees. I knelt down beside him. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and blood drooled from his slack mouth. His skin was still aging. He looked desiccated, almost mummified. He forced his head up, just enough to look at me.

“A Drood,” he said, his voice just a dry whisper. “Should have got here sooner, Drood.”

“What happened here?” I said. I would have liked to lower my golden mask, so he could see a human face, but I couldn’t do that. Too risky. “Where is Doctor Delirium? Did he do this? Can you . . . tell me your name?”

“The Drug,” he said, and I had to lean forward to make out what he was saying. He was little more than skin and bone now, held together by a last few sputters of energy. “They gave us the Drug. It was our reward, for good service. Said it would make us stronger, faster. Superhuman. We’d feel like gods, they said . . . And we did, for a while. But we couldn’t control it. I think . . . they added something to it. It drove us mad. Drove us all mad. They ran away and left us to each other. It’s not fair. Not fair. I didn’t come here to drink the Kool-Aid.”

He died. I left him lying on the ground, as the flies descended. There was nothing I could do for him. My armour can do many wonderful things, but it can’t heal.

I stood up and glared at the main science lab, my hands clenched into impotent fists at my sides. I could understand Doctor Delirium dosing his own people with the Acceleration Drug as a last line of defence, if he thought he was under attack . . . but no one knew I was coming. I hadn’t known I’d be coming here, only a few hours earlier. And why add something to the Drug, to make them kill each other? Was this a Jonestown after all—had the Doctor killed his own people, and then killed himself? Unlikely. It wasn’t in character for the Doctor, he was never that ruthless. He looked after his people, paid better than most, and anyway, Doctor Delirium should be on top of the world, right now. He’d finally found a way to blackmail the world and make it stick. He had no reason to give up.

And, the dying man had said They handed out the Drug. Doctor Delirium and . . . Tiger Tim? What the hell had happened here, when those two finally got together?

I strode on through the village of the dead, ignoring the bodies, all my attention concentrated on the science lab before me. The impeccably clean steel and glass structure shone brightly in the fierce sunlight, dominating the massive clearing made to hold it. When I finally came to the main entrance, the first thing I noticed was that the sliding doors were standing half open. I forced them all the way open, and the metal crumpled like paper in my grasp. I pulled the doors out of their frames, and threw them aside. I was past caring about the noise. I walked into the lobby, and there were no sirens, no alarms. No people anywhere. But the massive reception desk had been smashed and overturned, and all the furnishings were broken and scattered in pieces. The madness had found its way here.

The overhead lights were flickering fitfully, on the brink of giving up and going out. I couldn’t hear any air-conditioning working. Main power had to be going down, on its last legs. The lobby gave onto a series of bland, featureless corridors that led deeper into the building. Gaudy coloured lines had been set down on the floor as a guide, but I had no idea what they stood for, so I just picked a corridor and started walking, threading my way through the maze. As I made my way inwards, the first bloodstains and bullet holes began to appear. And the first flies.

Someone had gone crazy with an axe; I found it embedded in a grey wall, the blade still smeared with dried blood and matted hair. Someone had shot out the windows, leaving broken glass all over the floor. It crunched loudly under my golden feet. Bodies lay here and there, in ones and twos, each one a bloody mess and a feast for the flies. More and more, I saw men and women dead at their desks, in offices and cubicles, still ˚ at their posts. From the look of them, they never took the Acceleration Drug. Maybe they never got the memo. Maybe . . . the Accelerated Men needed something simple to start on . . .

Blood-spattered white lab coats, cut throats and smashed-in heads, people thrown around like discarded toys. A few had been smashed through glass partitions, some had been battered to death with broken chairs. Half a dozen were still sitting in their chairs, their heads torn off and piled up in the corner. When superhumans go bad, it’s bound to be messy.

Scattered papers were everywhere, littering the floor. Probably important once, crumpled and torn now, all of them soaked in blood. Smashed windows, doors torn off their hinges, holes punched in walls, spattered with blood from broken hands. Fire damage here and there, put out by automatic systems. Smoke and water damage, from putting out the fires. And dead men and women, mostly scientists and office staff, who probably never even understood why they were being butchered.

I strode quickly on through the corridors, increasing my pace till finally I was running, doubling back and forth through twisting corridors whose pattern made no sense. I started to find corpses who had taken the Drug. Two young secretaries, little more than teenagers, had gone at each other with office scissors as their only weapons. They’d cut and slashed and gouged great chunks out of each other, stabbing and hacking with superhuman strength, giving and taking awful damage while the Drug kept them on their feet and fighting, long after they should have lain down and died. I didn’t stop to mourn them. I couldn’t. I had to find who was responsible. I needed to get my hands on them.

Why would Doctor Delirium have allowed this? To cover his tracks after he left? So no one would be left alive to speak of his future plans? Why kill all the soldiers? The Doctor had always relied on his mercenaries to do the heavy lifting. He was the boss, he never got his hands dirty. I’d been surprised to see him present at the Magnificat. Now this . . . Could it be, that just ownership of the Apocalypse Door was affecting him? Changing him, corrupting him . . . to the point where he would willingly open the Door and let loose all the hordes of Hell?

I made myself stop, and think. I found an office whose computer systems seemed undamaged. One machine was still running; someone had turned it on but hadn’t lived to turn it off. I worked quickly, while the power still lasted. I pressed one fingertip against the computer, and willed golden filaments to worm their way into the guts of the machine. Luther was right; all I had to do was concentrate on what I wanted, and the armour did the rest for me. (I was going to have to think about the implications of that, when I had the time.) I persuaded the computer to throw up a map of the main lab, and put it on the screen. Doctor Delirium’s private office was only a short distance away. I couldn’t believe he’d still be here, after all that had happened, but even if he wasn’t I should be able to find some answers. After all I’d seen, I needed some answers.

The office actually had a big brass plaque on the door saying DOCTOR DELIRIUM: STRICTLY PRIVATE. With green and red lights set in place above the door, to inform lesser mortals whether he was In or Out. Both lights were dead, and the door stood ajar. I stopped just short of the door. The Doctor might be gone, but in his present mood he might well have left all kinds of booby traps behind. Hidden guns or energy weapons, explosives triggered by an unwary footstep, deadfalls under the carpet. None of this would have had any effect on my armour, but I didn’t want important evidence destroyed by a convenient fire or explosion. The office seemed quiet, and I couldn’t see anything suspicious, so in the end I just pushed the door all the way open with a single golden finger. Nothing happened. I looked inside. The office was deserted. No bodies, no blood, no destruction—and no Doctor Delirium.

I strolled into the office and had a good look around. It wasn’t much of an office, for a mad super-science villain. No frills or fancies, no super-science executive toys, not even a Tomorrow The World! poster on the wall, or a potted plant. Just a plain office desk, with the usual computer equipment, neat piles of paper in the IN AND OUT trays, and two chairs, on either side of the desk. No photos anywhere, of family or friends. He gave all that up, to become Doctor Delirium. I had to wonder . . . if he thought it had all been worth it.

I used my armour again to break into his computer, and ran quickly through his files. And almost the first thing I found was a connection between Doctor Delirium and the rogue Drood, Tiger Tim. It went back almost a year. Tiger Tim brought the Acceleration Drug to Doctor Delirium, as a peace offering and a payment, to ensure a face-to-face meeting. Even Doctor Delirium had enough sense to be wary of a rogue Drood. Tiger Tim had acquired a large batch of the Drug from Truman, back when he was head of Manifest Destiny. And that . . . was a connection I hadn’t expected to find.

I dug further, and found a connected video file, from a hidden camera feed in the office. A recording of the first face-to-face meeting between the Doctor and the rogue. I settled myself comfortably in the Doctor’s chair, and punched up the recording. I was still worried about the power supply, but the image on the screen was sharp, and the sound only a bit fuzzy.

Doctor Delirium was a middle-aged, overweight man, with jowls and a seriously receding hairline. He wore a spotless starched white lab coat, perhaps because he liked to remind everyone that he was still primarily a scientist. His voice was high and nasal, and he made it clear from the very beginning, with every word and gesture, that he didn’t approve of Tiger Tim.

The rogue Drood, on the other hand, gave every indication of being entirely relaxed and at ease. He lounged bonelessly in the visitor’s chair, and smiled happily at everything. He was heading into middle age, and fighting it every step of the way. He had the kind of aesthetic musculature you get only from regular workouts with professional equipment, the skin on his face was just that little bit too taut, and he wore his hair in a buzz cut, to hide how much it was receding. His tan was deep and surprisingly natural. He wore a rich cream safari outfit, very much the Great White Hunter, topped off with a white snap-brimmed hat, complete with tiger skin band. He smiled a lot, but it never once touched his cold blue eyes. He seemed entirely at his ease, as though this was his office, and he was favouring Doctor Delirium with his presence.

“Tiger Tim,” Doctor Delirium said heavily. “Why hasn’t someone killed you yet?”

“Because no one’s sent anyone good enough,” the rogue said easily.

“You’ve been off the map and under the radar for quite a while,” said the Doctor, lacing his podgy fingers across his generous stomach as he leaned back in his chair. Trying to appear even more relaxed than his visitor, and failing miserably. “And now here you are, sharing the rain forest with me. What do you want, Drood?”

“Please,” said Tiger Tim, flashing one of his meaningless smiles. “I prefer the name I’ve made for myself. I am Tiger Tim now, and not in any way a Drood. You could wipe my whole family off the face of this planet, and I wouldn’t give a damn. In fact, I’d probably sell tickets. As to where I’ve been all this time; why, I’ve been right here in the heart of darkness with you. Only my heart was considerably darker. I felt the need for a nice little holiday, you see, well away from the cares and tribulations of the civilised world. So after I had to leave, in something of a hurry, I jumped from place to place, and finally ended up here, deep in the jungle. Where no one could hope to find me.

“Imagine my surprise, when I stumbled across an unknown, untouched primitive tribe, who knew nothing of the white man and his civilisation. Amazing how many of them there still are, tucked away in the darkness, even in this day and age. I did the usual shock and awe thing to impress them, and they accepted me as their Great White God. I lorded it over them quite happily for some time. Just for the fun of it. The men were ugly brutes, but the women were pleasant enough, with a refreshingly casual attitude to social nudity. Their language was brutal and basic, and I never bothered to learn it. You can get most things across with pointing, and stern looks. Any time they looked like getting a bit rebellious, I’d show them a match or a compass, or shoot half a dozen of them, and they all went back to worshipping me again quite happily.”

“Why didn’t you just show them your armour?” said Doctor Delirium.

“Because I didn’t have it,” said Tiger Tim. “The family took it back.”

“I had heard . . . something,” said Doctor Delirium. “But you learn not to trust anything, when it comes to Droods.”

“My family can be very spiteful, when it chooses,” said Tiger Tim. “Anyway, I learned to survive without it. I’ve always believed in being prepared, for absolutely anything. Down the years, I’ve acquired a number of really quite remarkable items, of sometimes quite appalling power and destructiveness. More than enough to compensate for the loss of my armour. And, just one of the many reasons why I am so very hard to kill.”

“Have you brought any of these appalling items with you?” said the Doctor, quite casually.

“Ah. That’s the question, isn’t it?” Tiger Tim leant back in his chair, smiling quietly, indicating that this was as far as he was prepared to go . . . for the moment, at least.

“If you were having such an enjoyable time, playing Tarzan, Lord of the Undiscovered, why are you here?” Doctor Delirium said firmly.

“You scientists,” Tiger Tim said admiringly. “Always so keen to get to the point. Well, I enjoyed abusing my authority over the tribe, in all kinds of amusing ways, but eventually I just ran out of things to do to them. I got bored. They were a ˚ very limited people, and I missed all the little comforts of civilisation—like proper eating utensils, and toilet paper. But, it had been made very clear to me as I left South America, with bullets whistling past my head, that I couldn’t hope to return to any civilised part of the world until I’d made myself strong and powerful enough to stare down all my many enemies, very definitely including my own family.

“Imagine my surprise when a white man turned up in my territory, looking for me. I wasn’t completely cut off from the outer world, you understand. My people had been supplying drugs to a certain cartel, at my direction. They’d been using this absolutely fascinating psychedelic for centuries, as part of their religious festivals. Just one drop of the stuff, and after you’ve finished throwing up every meal you’ve ever eaten, you can have long conversations with the deity of your choice. Of course, I put a stop to all that. Thou shalt have no other god than me, on peril of some serious smiting on my part. And no, Doctor, I never took any of it myself. I’m very old-fashioned, in some respects. My body is a temple.”

“Because you worship yourself?” said Doctor Delirium.

“No one likes a catty supervillain, Doctor. Now, with nothing but time on my hands, I did a little experimenting with various parts of the mixture, and found it could make any man a superman, for a time. So I had my people produce tons of the stuff, and I set up a supply line to the nearest city. My people would do anything for me. If they knew what was good for them. But I’d only just started making serious connections, when this very polite young man came all the way into the jungle to see me. He was a representative of Manifest Destiny and a man called Truman. I see you know the name, Doctor; who doesn’t? It appeared he was very interested in what he called the Acceleration Drug.

“We got on famously, and I agreed to supply Manifest Destiny with all the raw materials they needed, to produce the Drug on a large scale, and in return I was promised quite staggering amounts of money, plus a high place ˚ in the Manifest Destiny organisation, along with guaranteed protection from all my many enemies, whenever I chose to return to the civilised world. I think Truman particularly enjoyed the irony of obtaining such a weapon from a Drood; even an established rogue like me.

“Time passed. The young man came and went, keeping the connection open. Drugs went out, comforts came in. Until I got bored again. The young man, and I do wish I could remember his name, but he was a particularly bland and characterless specimen . . . Anyway, he made the mistake of trying to convert me to the cause of Manifest Destiny. He was a believer, you see, and thought I should be too. As though I’d ever follow any cause but mine. So I killed him, the tribe prepared him, and we ate him. I’d already introduced the tribe to the joys of cannibalism. Just for a laugh.

“Not long afterwards, word filtered through to me that Truman and his entire organisation had been stamped flat by the Droods. I’ve always had bad luck with timing. And I really couldn’t believe it when I heard the family was now being run by London Eddie; I mean, who would have thought it? But it did mean . . . that I needed a new ally. I looked around, put out some feelers . . . and imagine my surprise when I discovered you’d just moved into a new secret base, practically on my doorstep?

“I decided this was a sign. So I killed all that was left of the tribe, to cover my tracks, ate the best bits of them, and walked through the jungle to join you here. That we might . . . discuss matters of mutual interest.”

“Hold it,” said Doctor Delirium, sitting abruptly upright in his chair. “You expect me to believe that you walked all the way here, one man on his own, through this godforsaken jungle? Packed full of large carnivorous creatures, and any number of poisonous snakes and insects? I lose at least one man every time I send a patrol out!”

“Ah,” said Tiger Tim. “But they’re not me. I told you, I’m prepared for absolutely everything. When I walk through the jungle,

I’m the most dangerous thing in it. I can kill with a look, or blow things up with a Word. And I do! Often just for the fun of it. And now, here I am. Ready to make you an offer you really can’t afford to refuse . . . I hold the secret of the Acceleration Drug, that can turn any soldier into a superhuman killing machine. Think of it, my dear Doctor Delirium; an army of your very own superhumans, to fight your corner for you and enforce your will on the world. Mercenaries are all very well and good, but they’re very limited, and they die so easily. Truman used his Accelerated Men against my family, and proved they were a match even for Droods in their armour. Wouldn’t you just love to be able to tell the Droods to shove it, after all they’ve done to you?”

“You’re right,” said Doctor Delirium, after a moment. “Your offer is very tempting. But your reputation precedes you, Tiger Tim. I’ll need a lot of persuading before I will accept you as a partner in crime.”

“Indeed,” said Tiger Tim. “Tell me, my dear Doctor Delirium; have you ever heard of something called the Apocalypse Door?”

The recording stopped abruptly. I looked for more files, but if there were any, the Doctor had wiped them all.

I searched on through his files, letting the armour do most of the hard work, and discovered, very much to my surprise, that Doctor Delirium really was a scientific genius. The work he’d done in his various labs was nothing short of astonishing. He’d taken entirely minor illnesses, and genetically re-created them as killer plagues that would have ravaged the world, if my family hadn’t stopped him, every time. He’d taken inconveniences, and turned them into monsters. If only the Doctor had been as interested in producing cures, he could have been the Great Man of Science he’d always wanted to be.

I always said we underestimated the man.

I was struggling to open a really stubborn file marked Existential Technology, when the file disappeared suddenly from the monitor screen, replaced by a face I ˚ knew very well. Tiger Tim looked out at me with much amusement.

“Well now. What on earth is a Drood field agent doing in Doctor Delirium’s private office?”

I studied him from behind my anonymous golden mask. “Timothy Drood, rogue and scumbag. How did you know I was here?”

“Call me Tiger Tim. That computer you’re using was programmed to sound the alert at my end, if anyone tried to access that particular file. Can’t have just anyone learning the true nature and function of the Apocalypse Door, can we?”

“We already know what it is,” I said.

“Of course you do. You’re a Drood. You know everything. I do like what you’ve done with the armour . . . very stylish modifications. Medieval, with a definite knightly touch. Things have clearly progressed since I was one of the favoured few.”

I was a little surprised, but didn’t say anything. I hadn’t realised my armour was automatically adapting my favourite modifications, without my having to even think about it anymore. As though the armour was learning . . . Something else to think about, when I had the time.

“Of course,” said Tiger Tim, “you took my armour away from me. Quite a shock, at the time. I didn’t know the family could do that.”

Which meant he hadn’t heard about the treachery of the Heart, and its downfall. And how different the new armour was. At least the family was still keeping the details of its disgrace and rebirth secret from the world at large.

“All the field agents who suddenly lost their torcs got them back,” said Tiger Tim. “Why didn’t I?”

“Because you’re not worthy,” I said. “Because you’re not a part of the family anymore. You’ll never wear a torc again. Not after all the things you’ve done.”

“Typical Drood. Always so judgemental. Have I really killed so many more than any Drood field agent? My crimes are really quite small, compared to the family’s . . . At least I don’t meddle with the world. I just want to play with it.”

“I walked through a town full of dead people to get here,” I said. “The Acceleration Drug drove them into a killing madness. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Well, it wasn’t liked we needed them anymore, the good Doctor and I. And I never leave anyone behind to speak ill of me. Two men can keep a secret, if a whole bunch of people are dead. Besides, it was such fun to watch. From a safe distance. Aren’t surveillance cameras wonderful?”

“Did Doctor Delirium know you were going to do that, to his people?” I said.

Tiger Tim grinned widely. “The good Doctor has been very . . . distracted, since I introduced him to the Apocalypse Door. He doesn’t care about anything else, anymore. He talks to it, and it answers him. Or so he says. I’ve always been very careful to maintain a safe distance. I could have set his whole base on fire and toasted marshmallows on the burning bodies, and he wouldn’t have cared. Not to worry, though; I’m here to keep an eye on him.”

“We’ll find you,” I said. “The whole family will be at your back and at your throat until the day you die. What happened to you, Timothy? You might have been a rogue before, but you never used to be an abomination.”

“Lot you know,” Tiger Tim said easily. “I like to think of this as the real me finally surfacing, after years of repression. I’m not bad; I just want to have fun. Might I inquire which Drood I have the honour of addressing? You all look the same to me. And after all, the game is only fun if you’re playing against a worthy opponent.”

“I’m Edwin Drood.”

“London Eddie! My God . . . You have come a long way, haven’t you, from junior field agent chasing second-class scum around the back streets of unfashionable London? Of course, you only got that cushy posting, and your vaunted freedom from the family, because you had your grandmother’s support. I never had anyone’s support. I never had anyone in my corner, my whole life. Always telling me what to do, what to think . . . They were always afraid of me. Of my potential. And quite rightly. I couldn’t wait to find a way out of the Hall, throw off their damned brainwashing and get on with my life, far away from all the suffocating restrictions . . . What’s the point of being more than human, if you’re still going to allow yourself to be bound by human limitations? Humanity is a trap, from which it is our duty to escape.

“So, I came up with my own ideas. You see, it isn’t just the armour that makes us so much better than everyone else. Though it does help. Droods have accomplished more in world history than all governments put together. Because we’re focused, smarter, more capable of taking the long view. Doing what needs to be done, and to hell whether it’s popular or politically expedient. The armour has evolved us, as people, as a family, far above the common herd. We shouldn’t be hiding in the shadows, we should stride out into the open and operate as the world leaders we really are. We are a natural aristocracy, superior in mind and body and will, and we should be lords and masters of all we survey. With everyone else in their proper place as servants, peasants, slaves. Their only real purpose in life is to serve their betters and worship their masters.

“We could put the world in order. No more wars, because everyone would do what they were told. No more want or hunger, because everyone would be equal, under Drood. Of course, we’d have to cut the numbers back, to a more manageable level. I spent ages putting all this together, but when I finally gathered up my materials and presented my Noble Experiment to the Matriarch . . . She said I was mad. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t even look at the materials! She refused to listen to me! No one would listen!”

“Really,” I said. “I wonder why. You do like to talk, don’t you?”

“Yes, well, I have been positively starved of good conversation, just recently. Anyway, when it became ˚ clear that the family was not going to be rational on this matter, I decided I’d have to start the ball rolling myself. A trial run, so to speak. Would I be right in thinking the powers that be in the family still don’t like to talk about how close I came to actually getting away with it?”

“I know you half killed the Armourer, trying to get him to open the Armageddon Codex for you,” I said. “Is that why you wanted the forbidden weapons? To declare war on Humanity?”

“Not a war, Eddie. Just a short sharp shock, a little practical culling, of the weak and unworthy. The old man shouldn’t have tried to stop me. He should have understood. I would have worn him down eventually, if James hadn’t turned up to drive me off. Bloody Grey Fox . . . always so full of himself. He never liked me. Still, I was really quite upset when I heard he’d died. I did so want to kill him myself.

“Anyway, that’s how it all started. The secret origin of Tiger Tim. I am finally where I should have been, all those years ago. I have the Apocalypse Door, the Acceleration Drug, and a fiendish master plan. Doctor Delirium and I will rule the world, and everyone else will bow down to us. Including every single stuck-up, straight-backed . . . stuffy member of the Drood family!”

“You and Doctor Delirium will rule the world?” I said.

“Yes . . . I’d been wondering when that particular penny was going to drop. He will be my partner for as long as I need him, and not one moment longer. He really does have a remarkable mind, but once the threat of the Door has placed the whole world under my control, I won’t need him anymore, will I?”

“If you have the Apocalypse Door, why do you need him at all?”

“Because, my dear Eddie—oh, it is so good to have someone I can speak openly with at last . . . Because direct contact with the Apocalypse Door can be very . . . affecting, to the human mind. The dear Doctor seems quite besotted with it. But he can’t open it without my help. So he acts as my cutout, so to speak. Should it prove necessary to open the ˚ Door, I will make it possible for him to do so. But I’m certainly not foolish enough to get too near myself.”

“You don’t really think an army of Accelerated Men will be enough to protect you from the Droods, do you?” I said. I needed to divert him. Before he realised just how much information he’d given away. “You must know the Drug is flawed. Your superhumans burn out.”

“They last long enough to do what’s necessary,” said Tiger Tim. “Especially with my new extra magic ingredient. Courtesy of Doctor Delirium’s amazing mind and first-class labs. What you’ve seen at the base was just the trial run, for a much larger experiment.”

“How did you find out about the Apocalypse Door?”

“A little bird told me. Come now, Eddie, you don’t really think I’ll give up all my little secrets and connections that easily?”

“Worth a try,” I said. “More importantly, do you understand what will happen, if you ever open the Door?”

“Of course,” said Tiger Tim.

“And you’re really prepared to do that, if you don’t get your way?”

“Yes. If I can’t have the life I want, why should anyone else? To hell with them all.”

“What about the Immortals?”

He looked at me. “Who?”

And then Ethel contacted me through my torc, her voice high and urgent. Eddie! You have to come home! Right now! The Hall is under attack!

“What? That’s . . . impossible! Wait a minute . . .” I turned back to Tiger Tim’s face on the monitor screen. “Drood Hall is under attack! Is this your doing?”

He smiled dreamily. “It has always been a dream of mine . . . To see the Hall go up in flames, and everything destroyed . . . And all of you will cry out to me, to save you from the fire . . . And I will lean forward, and smile, and say . . . Burn.”

I called up the Merlin Glass, and threw myself through it.