The Matriarch’s bedroom was surprisingly intimate and cheerful, for all its size. Comfortable furnishings, lots of light from the big window, flowers everywhere. Cards and messages of support stood propped up on every surface. There was a handful of people in the bedroom, there to give comfort and pay their respects. They hadn’t expected to see me, but none of them said anything. They looked to Martha for their lead, but she didn’t even acknowledge my presence.
Alistair was sitting propped up by pillows in the great four-poster bed. He didn’t look good. Even now, weeks after what had happened, he was still swathed in bandages like a mummy. He had the blankets pulled up to his chest as though he were cold, though a blazing fire had the room hot as a sauna. The bandages I could see were spotted with blood and other fluids seeping through. His right arm was gone. The surgeons couldn’t save it, so they amputated it all the way back to the shoulder. His whole face was wrapped in gauze, with dark holes left for his eyes and mouth. I couldn’t see his eyes or his mouth.
That’s what you get, for messing about with Hellfire. He should never have tried to use the Salem Special. That weapon never did anyone any good. And I might have been more sympathetic to his condition if I hadn’t known that this was what he’d intended to do to my Molly.
Martha sat on the edge of the bed beside her husband, feeding Alistair soup from a bowl, one spoonful at a time. As though he was a child. I could remember her doing that for me, once, when I was very small and the doctors thought the fever was going to carry me off. She sat with me day and night, and fed me soup, and I survived. Maybe Alistair would be lucky too. Martha was dressed all in black, as though in mourning. Normally she was tall, proud, aristocratic, and intimidatingly composed. Now she seemed somehow . . . smaller, as though something important had broken inside her. I didn’t like to see her look that way. Her long gray hair, that she usually wore piled up on top of her head, was now allowed to fall just anywhere, hiding most of her face. But her hand was steady as she fed Alistair his soup, and the back she showed me so firmly was almost painfully straight.
I had to talk to her, but I wasn’t ready yet. So I looked at the other people in the room. I recognised some of them as acknowledged or supposed supporters of the Zero Tolerance faction. Hardly surprising they’d be here. The only chance they had of regaining influence, if not control, over the family lay in persuading the Matriarch to endorse their cause. I nodded calmly to a few familiar faces, and then stopped abruptly at one very familiar face.
“Penny?” I said.
“Eddie,” she said, in a calm, cool, and entirely neutral voice.
“Good to see you again, Penny.”
“Wish I could say the same, Eddie.”
Which was par for the course. Penny had been my official contact in the family while I was still an agent in the field. I reported back to her after every mission, and she passed on any instructions or information the family thought I might need. I always liked Penny. She never let me get away with anything. Penny Drood was a tall cool blonde, in a tight white sweater over slim gray slacks. Cool blue eyes, pale pink lips, Penny was sweet and smart and sexy, and sophisticated as a very dry martini. She was about my age, but I didn’t remember her from my school days. There were a lot of us.
Even after ten years as my contact, I couldn’t tell you whether she liked me or not. Penny never shared that kind of information with anyone.
“All right, people!” I said loudly. “Nice of you to look in, but, gosh, look at the time, you must be going. Visiting hours are over until I’m through here. Hopefully you’re more intelligent than the crowd outside, so we can dispense with the usual threats and menaces . . . Good, good. Head for the door, single file, no pushing or shoving or there’ll be tears before bedtime.”
They left with their heads erect and their noses in the air, ignoring me as thoroughly as they could. Penny went to follow them, but I stopped her with a gesture.
“Hang about for a minute, Penny. I need to talk to you.”
“What makes you think I want to talk to you?”
“Because unlike most of that crowd, you’ve actually got a brain in your head. Because you’ve always had the good of the family at heart. And because what I have to say is linked directly to the continued survival of the Drood family. Interested?”
“Maybe. You always did like the sound of your own voice too much, Eddie.”
“You wound me deeply.”
“I notice you’re not denying it.”
“How’s the Matriarch?” I said quickly, deftly changing the subject.
“As well as can be expected.”
“And Alistair?”
“How do you think?”
It was clear she wasn’t going to give me an inch, so I gestured for her to stay where she was, while I went over to stand beside the Matriarch. I waited for her to at least glance at me, but she just kept on spooning soup into the dark gap in Alistair’s bandages. I couldn’t see any sign of him swallowing it. If it hadn’t been for the slight but definite rise and fall of his bandaged chest, I would have wondered if he might be dead, and no one had had the heart to tell Martha.
“Hello, Grandmother,” I said finally. “I would have come sooner, but I’ve been very busy. Working for the family. How is he?”
“How do you think?” Martha Drood said flatly, still not turning around. Her voice was tired, but still cold as steel, sharp as a razor blade. “Look at him. Maimed. Crippled. Disfigured. My lovely Alistair. All thanks to you, Edwin.”
“How did he ever get his hands on the Salem Special?” I said. “Awful weapon. We should have destroyed it long ago. And Alistair never knew anything about guns. So someone must have given it to him. Did you give him the gun, Grandmother, to use against my Molly?”
She looked at me for the first time, her face cold and implacable as stone. “Of course not! Alistair was never a fighter. He abhorred guns. It was one of the things I loved most about him. No . . . He just wanted to protect me. So he showed some initiative, for the first time in his life. He had to know how dangerous the Salem Special was, but all he could think of . . . was that I was in danger.”
“Turned out you were right about him after all, Grandmother,” I said. “He was a good man and true, when it mattered. That’s why you never told him the secret of the golden torcs. Never told him about the generations of Drood babies sacrificed to the Heart, so we could wear the golden armour. You never told him, because you knew a good man like that would never have stood for such an abomination.”
“He didn’t need to know! It was my burden, not his! And I did what I had to, to keep the family strong. Stronger than all the enemies who would have dragged us down in a moment if we had ever stumbled!”
“Martha?”
Alistair’s bandaged head turned slowly, blindly, back and forth, disturbed by her raised voice, or perhaps just because the soup had stopped. His voice was light and breathy, like a child’s. “Is there someone here, Martha?”
“It’s all right, darling,” Martha said quickly. She went to pat him on the shoulder, and then stopped for fear of hurting him. “Hush now, dear. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“I’m cold. And my head hurts. Is there someone here?”
“It’s just Edwin.”
“Is he back visiting us?”
“Yes, dear. You rest quietly, and you can have some more nice soup in a minute.” She looked at me. “He doesn’t remember any of it. Probably for the best. Except . . . he doesn’t seem to remember much of anything anymore. He knows who he is, and who I am; and that’s about it. Maybe someday he’ll have to forget even that, to forget what you did to him. Damn you, Edwin, what are you doing here? Haven’t you done enough harm? You killed my son James. The very best of us, and a better man than you’ll ever be! You’ve destroyed my husband. And you’ve neutered the family, by taking away its torcs. Left us defenceless in the face of our enemies, and the whole of humanity undefended. I should never have let my daughter marry that
man. Should never have let you run away. I should have had you killed years ago, Edwin!”
“Can’t say any of this comes as much of a surprise to me, Grandmother, ” I said after a while. “I always knew you felt more duty toward me than love. Children can tell.”
“What do you want, Edwin?”
“I want your help, Grandmother. Yes, I thought that would get your attention. I need your help and cooperation to rebuild the family, and make it strong again. Strong and united . . . A divided family cannot stand, and the vultures are already gathering. I’m doing what I can to provide leadership, but everywhere I look there’s a new faction springing up. Your endorsement would go a long way towards unifying the family behind me. So I’m asking you to put aside all hurts and grievances, old and new, and help me. For the sake of the family.”
“No,” said Martha, quite calmly, enjoying the disappointment in my face. “I won’t fight you, Edwin, but I won’t help you either. I’m going to let you run this family, and when you’ve messed it all up and run the family into the ground, they’ll come to me . . . and beg me to lead the family again; and I will. And I’ll undo everything you’ve done and put the family back the way it was. The way it’s supposed to be.”
“People will die, Martha.”
“Let them. Let them pay the price for disloyalty.”
Penny stepped forward. She actually looked shocked. “But . . . Matriarch? What about anything for the family?”
“Leave me,” said Martha Drood. “I’m tired.”
Penny and I walked back through the antechamber, side by side. The people waiting looked startled at seeing the two of us together, but had the good sense to say nothing. The ones I’d booted out of the bedroom couldn’t wait to rush past me, desperate to ask the Matriarch what had just happened. I wondered how much she’d tell them. Out in the corridor, I shut the suite’s door firmly behind me, started to speak to Penny, stopped, and then led her a little farther down the corridor. Just in case someone had their ear pressed to the door. I wouldn’t put it past them. It was what I would have done.
“Penny,” I said. “You see how things are. I need your help. I’m asking you for the same reason I asked the Matriarch; because I can’t do this alone. Help me run things. For the sake of the family.”
Penny looked at me thoughtfully, her cool regard as unreadable as always. “What precisely did you have in mind? As a secretary?”
“Join my Inner Circle. Help set policy. Help make the decisions that matter.”
She looked genuinely shocked for a moment, and I had to smile. Whatever she’d been expecting to hear, that hadn’t been it. Membership in the Inner Circle would give her real power in the family, and a real chance of influencing me. She took a deep breath, which did interesting things to her tight white sweater, and was immediately her old cool and composed self again.
“Why in hell would you want someone like me, a hardcore traditionalist?”
“To keep me honest,” I said. “To tell me the things I need to know, whether I want to hear them or not. To rein me in when I go too far, try to make changes too quickly. Or to spur me on if I start dithering. You’ve always been the sensible one, Penny. A terrible thing to hear, I know, but facts are facts. If I can’t convince you something is right or necessary, maybe it isn’t. And . . . you know a hell of a lot more about running things and organising people than I do.”
“Pretty much anyone knows more about those things than you do,” said Penny. “I had to spend hours cleaning up your mission reports before I could pass them on.”
“So what do you say? Are you game?”
“Would I have an official title? I’ve always wanted an official title.”
“How about, my conscience?”
“Yes,” said Penny. “I could do that.”
“But first,” I said carefully, “I have to ask, Penny. Were you a part of the Zero Tolerance faction?”
“No,” Penny said immediately. “They had some good ideas, but I don’t believe in factions within the family.”
“Another good reason why I want you on my side.”
“What makes you think I’m on your side?”
It was my turn to consider her thoughtfully. “You were my contact for years,” I said finally. “You know me better than most. You know the things I’ve done for the family; the missions they gave me because they were too dangerous or too dirty for anyone else. You know I’ve always believed in what this family is supposed to stand for. I want to rebuild the family in its own image, not mine.”
“Against my better judgement, I think I believe you,” said Penny. “I’m not sure I believe in you; we’ll have to see what happens. But I’m . . . prepared to be persuaded. Someone has to pull this family together, and if the Matriarch won’t . . . But let me make one thing very clear, Eddie. I never fancied you. Not ever.”
“Of course not,” I said. “You know me better than most.”
We both managed a small smile. I looked at my watch and winced.
“The Inner Circle is waiting for me in the Sanctity right now,” I said. “Come along, and I’ll introduce you.”
“There’s somewhere else we need to go first,” Penny said firmly. “Trust me, Eddie; you really need to see what’s happening down in the War Room.”
“Oh hell,” I said. “It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?”
So we went down into the War Room. Which meant going all the way over to the north wing, and down underground past all the security measures and the goblin watchdogs, and finally into the huge steel-lined stone chamber that holds the family War Room. It’s always a sight to set you back on your heels; the nerve centre of all our secret wars, and the invisible armies who clash by night and by day. Huge display screens covered all the walls, showing every country and major city in the world, along with a whole bunch of places that only people like us know are important. Bright coloured lights indicated people we were watching, and ongoing problems in which we had an interest.
Family members sat in long rows at their workstations, concentrating on their work so they wouldn’t have to look at me. Farseers covered potential trouble spots with their thoughts, while technicians worked their more-than-state-of-the-art computers for up-to-the-moment intelligence. Most of our secret wars are won in this room before a shot is fired, due to our superior planning and knowledge. And yet something was definitely wrong in the War Room. I walked slowly around the workstations, peering over people’s shoulders, and scowling at the display screens on the walls. Penny strolled along beside me, saying nothing, letting me work it out for myself.
“Nothing’s happening,” I said finally. “The maps on the walls should be lit up like Christmas trees, and the operations-planning table should be a hive of activity, but nothing’s happening. This is . . . unprecedented.”
“Which is why I wanted you to see this for yourself,” said Penny. “So you’d have some idea of how the world is coping, without the family looking over its shoulder. The threat boards are quiet because everyone else is too confused and too scared to start anything. They don’t know why we’ve gone so quiet, and why so many of our field agents have suddenly dropped off the board. Are we hurt, are we weak; or are we running one of our fiendishly complicated and intricate operations, designed to suck people in and then stamp on their heads once they’ve foolishly taken the bait? We’ve done it before, after all. But look around you, Eddie. See how tense everyone is?”
“I thought that was just my presence.”
“Oh, get over yourself. Everyone here is running on hot tea and adrenaline, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to see which country or organisation or individual will finally start something, just to see how much they can get away with.”
“None of the lights show agents in the field,” I said suddenly. “No ongoing operations.”
“That’s because there aren’t any,” said Penny. “After you took away the family’s golden torcs, the agents in the field had no choice b
ut to go to ground. They’d been left helpless, vulnerable, without their armour, and we can’t afford for any of our enemies to know that. Not yet. No one’s been killed, as yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”
I realised people all around me had looked up from their workstations to stare at me accusingly. I glared back, and they quickly returned to their work. I stood still, scowling furiously, thinking hard. This was all my fault. I hadn’t thought it through. When I discovered the family’s golden armour was powered by the trapped souls of sacrificed children, all I could think of was to put a stop to it. I hadn’t stopped to consider that I was putting other lives at risk. I don’t think it would have stopped me anyway, but I hadn’t thought. And ever since, I’d been too caught up in running the Hall to think about the big picture. That the world depends on the agents in the field to keep it safe, and the agents depend on the Hall.
“All right,” I said to Penny. “Put out the call. All field agents to come home.”
“That could be dangerous for some of them,” said Penny. “Staying out of sight is all that’s keeping some of them alive.”
“Well, tell them to use their best judgement,” I said impatiently. “But unless they come back to the Hall to be vetted, they won’t be considered for one of the new silver torcs. Tell them they can use the old secret paths; I’ll authorise the extra expense.”
I moved over to the main operations table, picked up a sheaf of the latest reports, and thumbed quickly through them. People around the table looked scandalised. Such material was only for the eyes of the Matriarch. Everyone knew I’d replaced Martha as head of the family, but it clearly still hadn’t sunk in for a lot of people.
“Where’s Truman?” I said finally. “I don’t see anything about him here. Don’t we have any recent updates about Manifest Destiny? They must be regrouping by now, so why don’t I see anything on their new base, their new centre of operations? Come on, people; I’ll settle for a best guess. An organisation that big can’t hope to start up again without leaving all kinds of telltale traces. Follow the leader, follow the money, follow the threads on the message boards; but find them! They can’t just have vanished!”
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