heart.
What about your late uncle James s many and varied illegitimate offspring? said Molly. The Grey Bastards?
Them? They re never on anyone s side but their own! I did think about it for a moment, which only goes to show how desperate I was. The family has always employed as many of them as we can, from a distance, if only to keep them from straying and falling under bad influences. But I wouldn t trust a single one of them farther than I could throw them into the wind with both hands tied behind my back. No, Molly. Much as I hate to admit it, there s only one rogue Drood we can go to. The most infamous rogue of all. The Regent of Shadows.
What? Hold everything. Go previous. Wipe my face with a cold sponge, said Molly. He s a rogue Drood? The Regent of Shadows, the secret master of hidden information is just another member of your extended family? No one ever told me that! Of course, your family never tells me anything it doesn t absolutely have to. I mean I ve heard of the Regent of Shadows everyone has. Runs his own secret organisation, beholden to no one, gathering information in all the areas no one else wants to admit even exist. Tell me, Eddie: Why is it that whenever anyone in your family even mentions him, someone else always says, We don t talk about him!?
I don t know! I said. They don t talk about him! I only know he s a rogue Drood because I used to run this family. Briefly. And even then you d be surprised at the sheer number of things I ve found out since that they thought I didn t need to know.
No, I wouldn t, said Molly. Nothing surprises me about your family anymore.
Smugness does not become you, Molly.
How are we supposed to find the secretive and almost legendary Regent of Shadows, anyway? Put an ad in The Times?
I haven t the faintest idea where to look, I said. I was hoping you d have some ideas.
She thought about it, frowning fiercely. We need a source of information that no one else would expect us to go to, who wouldn t sell us out or spread the story to unfriendly ears. That narrows the field considerably but if it s just information you re after, I may know someone. She s a hell of a way off the beaten track, by her own decision, and really small-time, because that s the way she likes it so we should be able to consult her without even being noticed.
Sounds good so far, I said. Who are we talking about?
And then we both stopped and looked round sharply. There was the growing sound of approaching engines coming right up the main drive, by the sound of it. I was off and running immediately, with Molly right there at my side. I had no idea who it might be or what they wanted, but I didn t care. A threat to the Hall and its grounds always takes precedence. And I was just in the mood to be distracted from my many problems.
Whoever it is, they re not on the guest list, I said to Molly. No one is allowed in here until we ve got the family back in residence again.
Probably looters, Molly said cheerfully.
Oh, almost certainly looters, I said. The poor bastards. I am just in the mood to beat the crap out of some bad guys.
By the time we got to the front of the Hall, a whole line of really big trucks was storming up the main gravel drive and heading for the front entrance. All the trucks were huge, oversized monster-storage jobs, the kind you hire to move the whole contents of really big houses. They were heading through the grounds like they had every right to be there, and I was really looking forward to making it clear to them that they didn t. They had no right to be on Drood territory, menacing my home. They had to know what had happened to the Hall and my family, or they d never have dared be so brave. Made my blood boil Show one sign of weakness in this world, and before you know it the vultures are turning up with knives and forks and their best bibs on. That s what those trucks were. A convoy of scavengers. Come to loot and ransack whatever was left of the ruined Hall while the charred timbers were still warm.
I ran out into the main drive and stopped, taking up a position between the lead truck and the Hall. I struck an authoritative pose and held up one hand to signal the driver to stop. Did he, hell. He just sounded his horn and kept on coming. So I called up my armour. I didn t need the old activating Words; I just had to think, and there it was. The rogue armour swept over me in a moment, sealing me in from head to toe. I didn t cry out at the cold this time. I was growing accustomed to the new armour. I wasn t sure whether that was a good thing or not, but with a massive big truck bearing down on me and showing absolutely no signs of slowing, I was glad to have the armour about me.
The driver in the lead truck took one look at the Drood in his armour who d just appeared out of nowhere right in front of him (when presumably he d been promised he d never have to face any such thing) and slammed his foot hard down on the brake. The truck skidded to a halt amid screams of burning tyres and unhealthy-looking smoke issued out from under the wheel arches. Gravel flew in every direction as the front of the truck skidded back and forth, the driver fighting to bring it under control. It finally slammed to a halt so close to me, I could have reached out a hand and prodded the radiator grille. There was more screeching and skidding from all the other trucks farther down the line as they were forced into equally sudden halts.
I folded my golden arms across my golden chest and studied the white-faced driver in his raised cab. And then Molly Metcalf stepped out into the drive to stand beside me, and the driver looked even more upset.
For a long moment the driver stayed in his cab, looking down at us, clearly lost for what to do. I m sure he was hoping that if he just sat there long enough, we would disappear or go away but when it became clear that wasn t going to happen, he sighed heavily, turned off the engine, opened the side door and dropped down into the gravel to join us. He looked back at the long line of suddenly parked trucks, took a deep breath and walked slowly and very unhappily forward to face Molly and me. An average height, average weight, middle-aged guy with male pattern baldness and a sickly smile, wearing a much-used workman s outfit. He crashed to a halt right before me, his uncertain smile losing confidence by the moment.
Hello! he said with desperate conviviality.
Nice to be here! Isn t it a great day? Very summery! Yes. I m Dave Chapman, head of Plunder, Incorporated.
Oh, bloody hell, said Molly, cutting across his words mercilessly. I know who this is. You used to be the Road Rats, didn t you?
Chapman winced. We did operate under that trade name, yes, but we have recently upgraded. Gone upmarket, as it were. He was trying for dignity and not even coming close. Might I enquire whom I might be addressing?
I m Molly Metcalf. She gave Chapman her very brightest and most dangerous smile, and all the colour dropped out of his face.
Oh, shit.
You ve heard of me, said Molly, pleased.
Chapman glanced back over his shoulder, clearly debating whether to just break and make a run for it, and then he reluctantly stood his ground and looked at me.
And I am Edwin Drood, I said, not wanting to be left out of the intimidation. Chapman made a high whining noise and looked even more upset, if that were possible. His feet shifted nervously, disturbing the gravel, as though he desperately wanted to be excused.
Oh, shit, he said, miserably.
Well, quite, I said. What are you doing here at my home, on Drood grounds, Mr. Road Rat Chapman?
Given his piteous condition it was hard to stay mad at him, but worth the effort. I had only to look at the long line of trucks come to haul away my family s heritage, and my blood started boiling all over again.
Chapman gave up looking at Molly and me and looked down at his steel-toed workingman s boots currently digging little holes in the gravel, as though he hoped to find some answers there. Or at the very least, a large and comforting hole he could disappear into. He glanced up again, saw that Molly and I were still there, and shrugged glumly. He looked unhappily back and forth between us, as though he couldn t make up his mind which of us unnerved him most.
Well, sir and miss, of course, he said finally. Strictly speaking, you shouldn t be here. We d been promised no one would be here. We were, in fact, informed that Drood Hall had been blown up, set fire to and generally reduced to wreck and ruin. He glanced past us at what was left of the Hall and seemed to draw strength from the confirming vision.
