Book 1 - The Man With the Golden Torc (12 page)

He stiffened perceptibly and turned abruptly away to bestow his
most charming smile on Alexandra. "Lexxy, darling, I come to you in need. I’m
afraid I just have to have another truth field generator. I absolutely wore the
last one out, following paper trails through the City on that big Brazilian
fraud case…"

"Of course, Matthew. Nothing but the best for the family’s
golden boy. Come with me, and I’ll fix you right up."

They both turned their backs on me and strolled away arm in arm,
laughing easily together. The Armourer and I looked after them.

"What that girl needs," said the Armourer, "is a right good—"

I quickly dropped my clapped-out portable door on the bench in
front of him. "I need this recharged. And as soon as possible."

"I know, I know; I’ve read the chitty. Matriarch wants you fully
equipped with the best we’ve got and out of here, on the double. Business as
usual, these days." He called for one of his interns, who came and took the
portable door away, holding it at arm’s length like a dead mouse. The Armourer
lurched to his feet and fixed me with a penetrating stare. "You come with me,
Eddie. And I’ll show you a few things that might just keep you alive when
everyone else wants you dead."

He led me over to another testing bench, shooing away half a
dozen interns, and picked up a large silver handgun. He weighed it thoughtfully
in his hand, and then passed it over to me. I raised an eyebrow at how heavy it
was, and he smiled proudly.

"That is a Colt Repeater. It never runs out of bullets, and it
aims itself. All you have to do is point it in the right general direction, and
the gun will take care of the rest. Even you should be able to manage that,
Eddie."

"What about recoil?" I said, just to be picky.

"Since I made it with people like you in mind, none worth the
mention. Try not to use it for too long at one time, or the binding spells will
overheat, and the replacement bullets might not be able to find the gun."

"Why is it so heavy?"

He grinned nastily. "So if you do run out of bullets, you can
club the buggers to death with it."

He tossed me a shoulder holster, and I struggled into it as he
led me over to another bench. I hate shoulder holsters. How women manage with
brassieres, I’ll never know. I’d got it more or less into place by the time the
Armourer was ready to show me his next creation. It looked a whole lot like an
ordinary wristwatch.

"It looks a whole lot like an ordinary wristwatch," I said.

"Well, you wouldn’t want one that shouted Look at me! I belong
to a field agent!, would you? This is a reverse watch. Looks and works as
normal, except for this button here. Don’t touch it, except when you mean to use
it. Push it down hard, and the watch will reverse time, rewinding the last
thirty seconds of your life. This will give you a second chance to undo your
more serious mistakes. But be warned: any attempt to meddle with time is
dangerous. Don’t use the reverse function too often; it might attract the
attention of certain beings who take time disruption very seriously."

I accepted the watch gingerly. "How does it work?"

"You wouldn’t understand if I told you, so just put it on and
pay attention to this."

I put the watch on, slipped my old Rolex into my jacket pocket,
and looked at the compass the Armourer was holding. It looked a whole lot like
an ordinary compass. The Armourer looked at me, but I just smiled politely. I
hate to be predictable.

"This compass will show you the best way out of any situation,
no matter how turned around you’ve got yourself. It’s preprogrammed to lock onto
the nearest viable exit and take you there. Just follow where the needle points.
The Matriarch specifically asked for something simple in this line, and this is
so simple a dog could use it. Just keep it away from strong magnetic forces, or
it gets confused. If it starts sticking, grease the works up with a little
butter. Only the best butter, of course."

"Oh, of course."

"Now then, what else have I got for you? I had a really nice
aboriginal pointing bone, but someone stirred their coffee with it, and it was
never the same after that. Then there was the personality enhancer…Looked really
good on the drawing board. The idea behind that one was that you’d use it to
bring to the fore whatever part of your personality was best suited to deal with
the situation you found yourself in."

"Do I gather something went wrong?"

"The enhancing part went fine. It was shutting the bloody things
down afterwards that was the problem. So far we’re dealing with six cases of
multiple personality disorder, and two cases of people refusing to talk to
themselves. Further testing has been suspended. Ah! Yes; this is what I was
looking for."

He presented me with a small blue-black lacquered box, not much
bigger than a matchbox, with a big red button on top. I shook it to see if it
would rattle, and the Armourer actually winced.

"Please don’t do that. What you’re holding is a prototype we
haven’t finished testing yet, but the Matriarch said she wanted you supplied
with the very best we could offer, so…That is a random teleport generator. Press
the button, and the box will instantly send you somewhere else. And because it
chooses each destination at random, no one will be able to trail you. Use it to
escape from prison cells, blind alleys, death traps, that sort of thing. It
works perfectly, except for the times when it doesn’t."

"What?"

"Which part of the word random do you need explained to you,
Eddie? This box could send you anywhere, theoretically. It’s preprogrammed not
to rematerialise you inside anything solid, but apart from that, all bets are
off. You could end up at the North Pole. Or Death Valley. Or the Mariana
Trench—"

"I get the idea. Think I’ll pass on this one."

I handed the box back to him very carefully. He shrugged and put
the box down very carefully on the bench. "Suit yourself, boy."

"Maybe Matthew would like to test it."

"Now you’re just being nasty."

I grinned and nodded my thanks to the Armourer. He looked at me
for a moment.

"You watch yourself out there, Eddie," he said gruffly. "It’s a
lot scarier out in the world now, than it was in my day."

The Armourer had spent twenty years as a field agent. That was
what made him such a fine Armourer. He always understood that his clever devices
had to work in the real world, not just in the labs. Alexandra, on the other
hand, had never been out in the field in her life.

"Don’t worry," I said. "I’ll be careful, Uncle Jack."

But he was already hard at work on something else. Two of his
interns had brought him a large wooden case held together by half a dozen faded
leather straps with heavy black iron buckles. He undid each one carefully,
opened the lid, and rooted around in the packing material, before bringing out a
large old-fashioned chest plate. He held it up to the light to study it, and I
leaned over his shoulder. The dark scarlet metal was wafer thin and deeply
scored with long lines of writing in Sanskrit. The Armourer placed the chest
plate gently on the bench before him and screwed a jeweller’s loupe into one eye
to study it close up. I was puzzled. If this piece of armour was as old as it
seemed to be, it ought to be part of family history, and I ought to recognise
it. But I’d never seen anything like this before.

"What is it?" I said, trying to sound just casually curious.

He grunted, not looking up, and not fooled for a moment. "This
is part of a Juggernaut Jumpsuit. Not dissimilar to the armour we wear, except
on a much higher level. This is the kind of thing you wear when you want to push
a mountain over onto its side with one hand. And the reason you’ve never seen it
before is because it’s a part of the Armageddon Codex."

I actually just stood there and gaped at him for a moment.
"But…but…those are the forbidden weapons! The weapons too dangerous to be used,
except when reality itself is threatened!"

"I do know that, Eddie."

"Then what the hell is something like that doing outside the
Codex?"

"Matriarch’s orders. She wants all the forbidden weapons removed
and examined, one at a time, and checked to make sure they’re operating at peak
efficiency. Just in case they should be needed. She hasn’t actually ordered any
testing yet; I don’t think the council would stand for that. But how bad must
things be if we’re opening the Codex for the first time in centuries?"

I leaned in close for a better look at the scarlet metal chest
plate. I’d never seen anything from the Armageddon Codex. I don’t think half a
dozen people in the family have.

"No one else is supposed to know what this is," the Armourer
said quietly. "It’s here under a code name. But I wanted someone to know.
Someone I trusted."

"Not Alexandra?" I said, just as quietly.

"The Matriarch specifically said not to tell her. Not tell the
Armourer in training? What does that say to you?"

"She thinks there’s a traitor in the family, Uncle Jack. And
she’s not the only one…"

"A traitor? In the family? Dear God, what have we come to?" The
Armourer shook his head slowly. "There was a time I would have said such a thing
was unthinkable. Now…I just don’t know anymore."

"Do you know what my mission is?" I said. "What I’m carrying,
and where I have to take it?"

"Of course. One of the few who do. You put it back, Eddie. It
should never have been brought here in the first place."

"You didn’t ask for it?"

"Hell, no! That was the Matriarch’s orders again."

"This opening of the Codex," I said slowly. "Could it have
something to do with the recent attacks on the Hall? And the Heart?"

The Armourer looked away, his shoulders sagging even farther
than usual. And for the first time, he sounded…old. "I don’t know, Eddie. No one
tells me anything anymore."

There are moments in every field agent’s life when he becomes
convinced that his cover has been blown, and the eyes of the world are suddenly
upon him. Usually because someone is shooting at him. I felt that way from the
moment I left the Hall and its many protections behind me. Having the Soul of
Albion in its lead-lined container tucked away in my dashboard compartment made
me feel as though someone had painted a target on my car, or maybe even added a
flashing neon sign saying ROB THIS IDIOT NOW. I drove the Hirondel back through
the winding country lanes and onto proper roads again. Cows in fields watched me
pass, following me with their heads as though even they knew what I was
carrying. I’d never couriered anything this important in my life. It felt as
though there was someone else in the car with me. Hamlets gave way to villages,
which gave way to towns, and soon enough I was back on the M4 motorway, heading
south to Stonehenge.

The afternoon was pleasantly warm as I motored along, and the
breeze was refreshingly cool as it ruffled my hair. There’s a lot to be said for
a convertible. Traffic was light for a summer afternoon, and I just cruised
along, listening to a Mary Hopkin compilation on the CD player. I hadn’t been to
Stonehenge in years, and last time I went, it had been as part of an organised
school trip. Apparently these days the ancient stone circle was sealed off
behind perimeter fences and barbed wire to keep the public at a respectful
distance from such an important national monument. (Not so unreasonable; in
Victorian times they’d sell you a hammer and chisel on the way in, so you could
gouge out your own personal souvenir to take home with you.) Still, I doubted
they had anything that could keep me out. And no one sees me unless I want them
to, remember?

It suddenly occurred to me that I hadn’t passed a car coming the
other way in quite a while. There wasn’t any traffic in front of me, and a quick
glance in the rearview mirror confirmed that there was nothing behind me for as
far as I could see. It seemed I had this whole stretch of the motorway all to
myself. And the chances of that happening at this time of the day, on such a
busy route, were…fantastically low. I shut off the CD player and tapped my
fingers thoughtfully on the steering wheel. I was being set up for an ambush.

Question was: Were they just after a Drood agent, or did someone
know what I was carrying?

I subvocalised the Words, and the living metal swept over me in
a moment, sealing me off from all danger behind my golden armour. I checked that
the Colt Repeater was comfortably loose in its shoulder holster under the
armour, and I looked around me. Still nothing ahead and nothing behind, and only
empty fields on either side of the road. An alarm blared suddenly inside the
car, making me jump, and a flashing red arrow appeared on my dashboard, pointing
straight up. I looked up, and there were half a dozen black helicopters flying
in close formation right above me in complete silence. If it hadn’t been for my
car’s detection system, I’d never have known they were there until it was too
late. I hadn’t actually known my car could do that. Score one for the Armourer,
and thank you, Uncle Jack.

I braked hard, and the black helicopters shot on ahead, caught
off guard. They spun around in a wide circle, still utterly silent, and headed
straight for me. They looked like nasty ungainly insects. Two of the leading
helicopters opened up with machine guns, raking the road on either side of the
Hirondel, throwing up debris, trying to frighten me into stopping. I put my foot
down again, and the Hirondel responded eagerly, surging forward. The helicopters
were behind me now as I raced along, but already they were circling around to
follow me, still holding perfect attack formation. One launched a missile, and
it swept past me to explode in the road ahead. I snapped the wheel around to
avoid the crater, and the car punched right through the smoke and flames and out
the other side. The armour protected me from the heat and from smoke inhalation,
but that was all it could do, for the moment. The armour’s strengths were mostly
defensive in nature. Unless and until I got my hands on someone.