Book 1 - The Man With the Golden Torc (38 page)

I may have blinked a few times. "I never knew that."

"Lot of things you don’t know that I do," said Molly. "You’d be
amazed. Sebastian’s been around for ages, though he doesn’t bother to make the
scene much. Likes to be thought of as a gentleman thief, but he’s really just a
professional burglar with delusions of grandeur."

"Can’t say I know the name," I said. "Probably got scrubbed from
the family history, like the Mole. And me."

"Sebastian’s a lot older than you," said Molly. "And though he’s
not averse to involving himself in the odd plot or intrigue, he’s always been a
behind-the-scenes kind of player. A real let’s you and him fight kind of guy.
Never does anything unless there’s a profit in there somewhere for him. But he
might help you…just to get back at the family that dared to outlaw him.
Sebastian’s always been a great one for nursing a grudge."

She hit the UP button and announced the name of a street in
upmarket Knightsbridge, and the elevator door hissed open. The interior looked
just like any other elevator. We stepped inside, and the door shut quickly
behind us. There was no control panel and no sensation of upward movement, but
just a moment later the door opened to reveal a street I recognised that was
only a few minutes’ walk from where I used to live. I stepped outside and looked
around cautiously. There was no sign of any Drood agents. Whatever surveillance
there was was probably concentrated around my old flat, just in case I was dumb
enough to go back there.

The sun was high in the sky. Half a day gone, and damn all to
show for it. It was hard to think, to plan properly, under such constant
pressure. I looked back at Molly and wasn’t surprised to discover that the
elevator door had disappeared behind her.

"How is it you know Sebastian?" I said. "Have you worked with
him too?"

"You have got to be joking," said Molly, curling her lip. "I
wouldn’t touch that man with a disinfected barge pole. He works alone because no
one else trusts him. He’s a two-faced, treacherous little turd who’s screwed
over pretty much everyone at one time or another. However…he can be the man to
go to when you need to get your hands on a certain item that no one else can
supply, legally or illegally. Sebastian can get you anything, for the right
price, as long as it’s firmly understood that there isn’t going to be any
provenance. Or any protection if the original owner discovers you’ve got it. You
can also be absolutely sure that there won’t be any refund if the item in
question turns out to be not entirely what you thought it was. It’s up to you to
be sure before you hand over any money. Buyer beware, and carry a bloody big
stick."

"And this is the man you thought might help me?" I said.

"I’d better phone ahead," said Molly, producing a bright pink
phone with a Hello Kitty face on it. "Make sure he’s in and that he’ll agree to
see us."

"Might not be wise, using my name over a standard phone, on an
open line," I said. "My family have people who listen in on everything."

"Don’t teach your grandmother to throttle chickens," said Molly.

"I haven’t spoken over an open line in years. The angels
themselves couldn’t listen in on one of my calls without actual divine
intervention on their side."

She moved a few steps away while she punched in the number. I
leaned back against an ornamental stone wall and considered my situation. I
wasn’t impressed with the two rogues Molly had introduced me to so far. Oddly
John had gone mad, and the Mole was well on his way in the same direction. Both
of them trapped in prisons of their own making. And this Sebastian sounded like
a real scumbag. How could I trust anything a man like that might tell me, even
if I could persuade him to talk? But time was pressing, and I had to get answers
from somewhere. If nothing else, I was pretty sure I’d know the truth once I
heard it. That I would recognise it somehow. My left arm hurt like hell, even
though I had my hand tucked into my belt to carry some of the weight. I massaged
the muscles with my other hand, but it didn’t help. The pain beat sickly in my
left shoulder and down into my chest. The strange matter was spreading
inexorably through my system. Three days, Molly had said. Maybe four. Maybe not.
I had to get my answers soon, while they were still some good to me.

Time was against me…

Molly turned off her phone and put it away. "He says he’ll see
us, but only if we come over right away. It’s just a few minutes’ walk from
here. But Eddie…try to be nice to Sebastian. He can be a real pain in the arse,
but…he really does know things that no one else does. Is there anything you
might know that you could offer him in exchange? Some family secret, perhaps,
from after his time? Sebastian loves secrets. He can’t sell them on fast
enough."

"I am wise," I said, "and know many things. And I shall be
perfectly polite to Sebastian. Right up to the point where he refuses to tell me
something I need to know, and then I will bounce him off the nearest wall until
his eyes change colour. I really feel like beating the snot out of someone
obnoxious. It’s been that kind of a day. Is any of this going to be a problem
for you?"

"Hell," said Molly. "I’ll hold his arms while you hit him."

Sebastian turned out to have a magnificently appointed
second-floor apartment over a very refined and upmarket antiques shop called
Time Past. I took a quick peek through the window. The shop was full of those
delicate kinds of items where, if you have to ask the price, you definitely
can’t afford them. Molly peered over my shoulder, sniffed dismissively at the
lot, and then rang the bell beside the discreet side door. There was a name card
beside the bell, and it wasn’t anything like Sebastian Drood. After a lengthy
pause, while Sebastian checked us out in some unobtrusive and probably highly
arcane manner, the side door swung open before us. Inside was a narrow set of
stairs leading up. Narrow enough to ensure that anyone ascending to Sebastian’s
lair could only do so in single file. Good defensive thinking. Molly went first.
I followed after, sneering at the terribly passé hunting prints on the wall.

The stairs ended in another door, solid oak barred with cold
iron and silver. It opened by itself as Molly and I approached, and we filed
through into the gorgeously laid-out apartment beyond. Sebastian was waiting for
us. He stood, carefully poised and elegant, in the middle of a bright spacious
living room, and waited for us to come to him. Sebastian was tall, handsome, and
oh so sophisticated. You could tell. He’d put a lot of effort into making sure
you could tell. He had to be in his late sixties, but his hair was still
jet-black, and his face had a certain taut look to it that spoke of frequent
face lifts and regular Botox injections. He had cold blue eyes and a smile that
came and went so quickly it meant nothing at all. He wore a white roll-necked
pullover above casually expensive slacks with the kind of handmade shoes you
have to take out a second mortgage to pay for. The roll neck hid the gold collar
around his throat, but I could tell it was there.

"Molly! Eddie!" he said in the kind of deep rich voice you only
get by practicing, probably in front of a mirror. "Do come in. Delighted to see
you both."

He shook us both firmly by the hand but didn’t sit down or
invite us to. It seemed we weren’t expected to stay that long. Sebastian
produced an antique silver snuffbox from his pocket and opened it with a
flourish. A hidden mechanism played a tinkly version of "The British Grenadiers"
while Sebastian tapped out two small mounds of dark powdered tobacco onto the
back of his hand and snorted them up one nostril at a time. He then sneezed
explosively into a silk handkerchief before putting it and the snuffbox away
again. It was a performance designed to impress. If it had been anyone else, I
would have applauded.

"That stuff’s worse than coke," said Molly. "You’ll see; one of
these days the whole inside of your nose will just drop out."

"I like my vices old-fashioned," said Sebastian, quite
unconcerned. "I find the qualities of the past so much more satisfying than
those of the present. As you can see…"

He indicated the contents of his apartment with a graceful wave
of one long-fingered hand. It was sumptuously appointed, every item of the
highest quality. Upon the waxed and polished bare board floor stood antique
furnishings from a dozen different periods carefully arranged and presented so
the different styles wouldn’t clash. Original paintings on the walls, each
carefully illuminated by concealed track lighting. Plus a handful of Victorian
pen-and-ink erotica, ranging from the cheerfully vulgar to the actually
appalling. There was even a glass and diamond chandelier hanging from the
ceiling. And yet for all the effort that had gone into it, I couldn’t help
thinking Sebastian’s living room looked more like a showcase than a room where
someone actually lived.

"Very nice," said Molly. "Very…you. Is that antiques shop
downstairs yours as well?"

"Oh, of course. It makes for very good cover when I want to
bring in something new that I’ve just…acquired. I have this delightful young
lady who runs the shop for me. Charming little filly. She’s really just a golem
with a concealing glamour spell, but the customers never seem to notice. Now
then, Eddie; let us talk business."

"Yes," I said. "Let’s."

He looked me over as though I was something he was considering
buying, probably against his better judgement. "So; you’re the latest rogue. Old
goody-two-shoes Eddie, no less. The whole area’s been full of family looking for
you. I’ve hardly dared step outside my flat. I was actually quite shocked when I
heard the news. I’d gone to such pains to hide my presence from you, all these
years…and now you’re an official disgrace, just like me. Do you know why I left
the family, Eddie?"

"No," I said. "But I’m sure you’re about to tell me."

Molly hit me in the ribs with her elbow, but Sebastian didn’t
notice. He had a story to tell, and nothing short of an appearance by Death
herself was going to stop him.

"The family sent me out into the world to be their agent," he
said grandly. "But I decided that I liked the world much more than I liked the
family. Never any room in the family for personal ambition or advancement or the
acquisition of lovely things. So I just walked away, disappeared behind the
scenes, and set about using the torc for my own purposes. To enrich my life and
make it so much more comfortable. And I have! I have become quite
extraordinarily successful at my chosen profession, and I am one of the most
admired professional gentleman thieves in London. It could have been the world,
but I do so hate to travel.

"With the help of my armour, I can break into any establishment
and walk off with anything I take a fancy to. And I do. Alarms and security mean
nothing to me when I’m in my armour. I come and I go, and I take what I will,
and no one ever knows anything about it until it’s far too late. Scotland Yard,
baffled again! I have the very best antique furniture, everything from a Louis
Quinze chair to a Hepplewhite sideboard. Famous paintings, in their original
frames! Whatever catches my eye. Nothing is safe from me.

"You know how I track it all down? I simply make it my business
to patronise all the best auctions and make a note of who buys what. There are
those who hide behind anonymous bids, but auction house security is a joke to
such as us, Eddie. All the lovely things in this flat originally belonged to
someone else who couldn’t hold on to them. Probably didn’t appreciate them,
anyway. Not nearly as much as I do. I’m sure the pretty things are all much
happier here, with me."

"Wait just a minute!" Molly stalked over to a side table and
snatched up a stylised statuette of a black cat. "This is mine, you bastard! I
always wondered what happened to it…This is the Manx Cat of Bubastis! I went
through all manner of hells to get my hand on this, and then it just disappeared
from my old place four years ago!"

"Really?" said Sebastian airily. "I honestly don’t remember
where I acquired that particular piece."

"It’s mine!" said Molly dangerously.

"It’s only yours if you can hang on to it, Molly dear. But if
you’re going to make such a fuss about it…"

"This leaves here with me," said Molly, striding back to my side
with the Manx Cat firmly in her grasp. "And if I hear one word of objection from
you, Sebastian, I’ll rip your nipples off."

"Dear Molly," said Sebastian. "Gracious as ever."

"I thought we were going to be polite," I said, amused.

"You be polite," she growled. "He wouldn’t believe it if it came
from me. The Manx Cat has power I invested in it long ago. It can restore a lot
of the energies I’ve been using up recently. Though it’ll take a while."

I turned my attention back to Sebastian, who didn’t seem in the
least put out by Molly’s actions. "How have you stayed hidden from the family
for so long?" I said. "Hell, how did you stay hidden from me?"

"Oh, I’m pretty sure the family has always known roughly where I
am," he said easily. "But they know better than to rock the boat. You see, some
years ago I took the precaution of leaving certain very detailed information
packets with a number of journalists, and other interested parties, all over the
world. In well-sealed caskets, set to open automatically in the event of my
death. Even our family couldn’t be sure they’d got all of them, so they leave me
alone. In fact, they’d do well to ensure that nothing ever happens to me…"

"How very…practical," I said. "But you could still die in an
accident. What then?"

He shrugged. "If I’m dead, I won’t care. I’m sure the family
will think of something. They always do." He looked at me thoughtfully. "I
really don’t think I can help you, Eddie. Whatever it is you want, I can’t
supply it. The family is very upset with you, and I don’t care to get caught in
the middle. I look out only for myself these days. And before you ask, no, I
have no idea why you were made rogue. I have no contact with anyone inside the
family. I don’t even speak to the other rogues. You’re just wasting both our
time by being here."