enough. To my mind, the very fact they were considering the question was good enough reason to stamp them all into the ground with extreme prejudice. The Regent of Shadows was invited to come in and do the whole new- broom thing shortly afterwards, and that was when Catherine Latimer s information stopped. Which suggests, if nothing else, that the Regent runs a tight ship and holds his secrets close to his chest.
Good for him, said Molly. He ll talk to us, though. Won t he?
Oh yes, I said. He ll talk to us.
If he knows what s good for him.
Exactly! Can I lecture you some more?
Oh, go on, then. You know that professorial voice gets me all hot. And it ll help cheer you up for being so totally and utterly wrong about Big Ben. If you start to get boring, I can always heckle and throw things.
The Department exists to keep an eye on the hidden world, I said. To find out and know everything that matters about those aspects of the supernatural world that might pose a threat. Or at the very least, to know as much as possible. Because everything is always changing in the hidden world. Which is why the Department s agents are always so busy, overworked and just a bit twitchy. The Department then passes the relevant data on to those best able to make use of it, or at least to those the government of the day approves of. The Ghost Finders, the SAS combat sorcerers, the London Knights even the Droods; after they ve tried everything else, including prayer, and closing their eyes and just hoping it all goes away. Governments have always hated going cap in hand to my family.
Gosh, said Molly, I can t think why. Could it be because you always want something really hefty in return?
Who s telling this? I said. The Department of the Uncanny is part of the Establishment, though they like to say they re separate from it. But then, everyone in the Establishment likes to think that. Helps them sleep better at night. Catherine Latimer told me that Big Ben is the real London Eye, the Eye on the outer worlds. That the clock faces are just a disguise, a distraction. Because apparently someone or something lives at the top of the tower and Sees all and knows all.
Like Madame O? said Molly.
Rather more clearly, one hopes, I said. The Department gathers most of its information through field agents. They work in the shadows, as shadows, entirely undetected. No one knows who they are.
Not even each other?
Must make for some stilted conversations in the staff canteen. And then there are the special agents, not unlike Drood field agents, for when something must be done. Usually in a hurry.
I suppose no one knows who they are, either, said Molly.
Got it in one! In fact, there are those who have been known to suggest that these Special Agents may not exist at all. Just smoke and mirrors to fool all the other secret organisations into taking the Department of the Uncanny more seriously.
Don t the Droods know?
Oh, I m sure someone in the family did, I said, and then stopped to correct myself. I m sure someone does. We always make it a point to know the things that no one else knows. Knowledge is ammunition in the hidden world of secret organisations.
I glanced casually about me. Night was falling, the lights were coming on and tourists strolled up and down the pavements, stopping now and then to take photos of one another before places of interest. And to peer uncertainly across the River Thames at the Houses of Parliament and wonder if anything important might be going on. And all the time they had no idea a door stood before Big Ben, unseen and unknown, that could have delivered them right into the heart of the secret world. But then, that s always the way. Wherever you are and wherever you go, you re never far from someone or something you re better off not knowing about.
Once again, I d left the Phantom V parked so illegally it was practically committing treason just sitting there. I d told Catherine Latimer I d be parking the Rolls right next to the Houses of Parliament, so she could warn off the security people. In the full knowledge that the boss might or might not pass the information along. Depending on whether she thought it might be funnier not to. Like most people in positions of power, Latimer was famous for her perverse, not to say downright peculiar, sense of humour.
Poor car, said Molly, running her hand affectionately over the gleaming bonnet. It must get really bored, left on its own so often. Maybe we could leave the radio on.
I don t think so, I said.
Poor car Who s a good car, then?
Don t encourage it, I said sternly.
The Armourer s personalised cars have more than enough personality as it is.
We left the Phantom V behind, and strode determinedly towards the door only we could See. None of the tourists noticed a thing, of course. The door saw to that. It waited till the very last moment, and then swung smoothly and invitingly open before us.
You know, I said, just a bit wistfully, I can remember when I was a proper spy, and no one had a clue who or what I was.
We re clearly expected, said Molly.
No one expects the Drood Inquisition!
And we both walked laughing through the Uncanny door, something that probably didn t happen all that often. There was a brief and unsettling feeling of transition, and just like that we were somewhere else. And very clearly not anywhere inside the tower of Big Ben. Molly slipped an arm possessively through mine and leaned in close so she could murmur in my ear.
Very powerful teleport, she said quietly.
Very sleek, very professional and, I might add, very much above the pay scale of a department like this. Which means either there s more to this particular mob than meets the eye or they stole it. Can I just enquire? Can you get us out of here in a hurry, should it prove necessary for us to get the hell out of Dodge with bullets flying around our nether regions?
I have the Merlin Glass, I said just as quietly.
That s not what I asked, said Molly.
Oh, ye of little faith. I thought the blatantly purloined Twilight Teardrop currently hanging round your splendid neck had restored all your abilities.
Oh, hell, yes. I m just bursting with all kinds of magics! All kinds! I m not worried at all. I just thought you might be.
It s good of you to be so concerned, I said. Makes me feel so much more secure.
I can never tell when you re being serious, Molly said severely.
Neither can I Just settle for the fact that we are where we wanted to be, and try not to dwell too much on the fact that the door we came through has already disappeared.
Imagine my surprise, said Molly.
We were standing in a warm and cosy waiting room, with great bunches of flowers in oriental vases, pleasant paintings on brightly painted walls and a deep, deep shag-pile carpet. The whole setting had a familiar feel, and it took me a moment to realise it was because my new surroundings reminded me of home. Of Drood Hall. I suppressed a sudden stab of sorrow as I wondered if I d ever see the Hall, my Hall, again. I d purposefully kept myself busy all day just so I wouldn t have to think or feel things like that. I d always defined myself as the Drood who ran away from home, but if there wasn t a home or a family to run away from then who was I, really? What was I? I d always fought for the right to live away from my family, but I d always wanted them to still be there.
I remembered a moment from my childhood. Sitting alone in the silent empty dormitory while all the other children were off studying, while my uncle James sat beside me on the bed and told me that my mother and father wouldn t be coming home again. Ever. Because they d been killed out in the field on a mission that went wrong. These things happen, he said as kindly as he could. You have to be strong now, Eddie. Be a Drood. For your mother and father, and for the family. Can you do that? And I wanted to please him, because even then I greatly admired my uncle James, so I said, Yes, I can be strong. Anything for the family. Because I knew that was what I was supposed to say. And he smiled and slapped me on the shoulder, and got up and went away. Leaving me sitting there alone in that eerily silent and deserted dormitory. And all I could think was, I want my mum. I want my
