From Hell With Love: A Secret Histories Novel (37 page)

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Authors: Simon R. Green

BOOK: From Hell With Love: A Secret Histories Novel
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But even as I listened in, while pretending to sulk in my chair, I slowly realised that everything I could understand was just simple social chatter. Nothing about world events, or the great things they’d done or were planning to do, nothing about the recent attacks on my family . . . It was all just gossip. Who was with who, who’d fallen out with who, who was two-timing who and what would happen when everyone found out . . . All the Immortals cared about, was themselves. Because the world might change, but the Immortals went on forever. So they were the only things that mattered.
I looked up sharply as a young woman marched right up to me. From the glare she was giving me, it was clear she knew the face I was wearing, and not in a good way. Which meant I had to know her. She was tall and blond, dressed to the height of nineteen thirties fashion. She folded her arms and glared at me, clearly waiting for me to say something. Other people were starting to pay attention. I rose to my feet and gave her my best disdainful glare.
“I’m not talking to you,” I said flatly, stuck my nose in the air, and brushed past her as I strode from the room. Knowing laughter followed me, so it seemed I’d struck the right note. At least she didn’t try and follow me. I decided I’d pushed my luck quite enough, and headed straight for the back stairs, and the computer rooms below.
The corridor was completely empty, with no sign of Immortals or kobolds. I clattered down the back stairs, still marvelling at the complete lack of security guards. These people were asking for it. The back stairs went on and on, falling away, descending into the depths under the Castle. Given the bare stone walls and the rough stone steps, I guessed this wasn’t a route used by the Immortals very often. They would have put in a handrail, and maybe even carpeting. This was more likely a maintenance way, for the underfolk. The hard stone steps slammed against my feet all the way down, and when I finally got to the bottom, it was just one long cavern, dug out of the bedrock. The dungeons themselves were gone, replaced by simple offices and storerooms, and as I made my way cautiously forward, even my quietest steps seemed unnaturally loud, carrying on the still air. Harsh electric lighting filled the long cavern from end to end, leaving no shadows anywhere. I felt more exposed here than I had above.
So I marched down the cavern like I was there on inspection, and soon came to the two large glass cubicles at the end. One was quite clearly the computer room, while the other was a communications and security office, with a single guard. He wasn’t even looking in my direction. An Immortal, of course, because they couldn’t trust an important task like this to the underfolk, but quite clearly one very bored Immortal. He was sitting in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk, sulking, because he’d been lumbered with this job he didn’t feel was necessary. No one could ever get into the Castle, never mind all the way down here . . . He was slowly flipping through the pages of a magazine, and from the look on his face I had a pretty good idea of what kind of magazine it was. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t heard me approaching, but when I got closer I could see he had phones in his ears. He was listening to music on his iPod. While he was on guard. Some people just deserve every bad thing that happens to them.
I stayed back, pressed against one wall, out of his direct line of sight. I used the Gemini Duplicator to make another me, and once again I was thrown by the sudden doubling of my senses. I quickly pulled it back under control, and the two of me looked at each other closely, studying our new teenage face through two sets of eyes. I gestured for me to stay put, while I strode down the cavern to the glass-walled security booth. The guard didn’t look up until I was almost on top of him, and even then he didn’t get out of his chair. He just glared at me sullenly, and reluctantly pulled the phones out of his ears. I gestured imperiously for him to leave the booth and come out to talk to me. He acquiesced to my assumed authority, but made a big deal out of putting aside his mucky magazine and slouching out to join me. He’d probably been instructed never to leave the booth without checking first, but boredom can be a terrible motivator. He glared at me.
“What do you want?”
“Look who’s come to see you!” I said brightly, and gestured down the cavern.
The other me stepped out into the clear light, and waved cheerfully. The guard gaped at the second me, and while he was doing that I slipped in behind and got him in a choke hold. After a few moments, I dragged his unconscious body back into the booth, and arranged him neatly in his chair so it looked like he was dozing. I was getting quite good at that. I hurried down the cavern to join me, and we both looked around the security booth. Neither of us talked about killing the guard, though it was on both our minds. I’d already had this conversation with myself.
“I’m going into the computer room,” I said. “You go back down the cavern and keep watch.”
I scowled back at me. “Who put you in charge?”
“I did. You did. What does it matter, I’m the original, so . . .”
“You don’t know that. You can’t be sure. I have all the same memories you do.”
“I can’t believe I’m arguing with myself. I get to go into the computer room because I’m nearest. Now go!”
“All right, all right! God, I can’t believe I’m this bossy . . .”
I hurried back down the cavern, while I turned my attention to the door into the computer room. I concentrated on bringing my thoughts to the front, while keeping my duplicate’s in the background. It was easier when I wasn’t talking to myself. I took out the skeleton key the Armourer had given me. One ordinary-looking key, but fashioned from old yellowed human bone. The door between the booth and the computer room had a complicated electronic lock, with a numbered keypad. I just pressed the skeleton key against the pad, and it cycled quickly through its functions and opened the door for me. Skeleton key. The Armourer does like his little jokes. I waited for an alarm to go off, but there was nothing. I strode into the computer room, pulled up a chair and sat down before the main terminal.
It all looked pretty straightforward. Of course, I didn’t know any of the passwords, or file names, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I was just starting to armour up, so I could use the golden fingertip trick that Luther taught me, when I remembered and stopped myself. I couldn’t use the armour here. That would quite definitely set off every alarm they had.
So I took out the skeleton key again, and waved it vaguely back and forth in front of the computer, hoping it might act like a Hand of Glory, but it didn’t. The computer just stared back at me, smugly mute. I looked at the bone key. Since it was a key, perhaps it needed to be inserted and turned . . . I pushed the key against the computer, and it sank into and through the plastic casing. The surface just seemed to soften and open up, and the key disappeared inside, almost sucked in. I was so startled I almost let go of the key and lost it inside the computer. But I held on, until my hand was pressed right up against the computer casing. It felt disturbingly warm, almost organic . . . I turned the key, and the computer started up. The monitor screen turned itself on, and all kinds of passwords and secret protocols flashed on and off. I gingerly withdrew the key, but the computer just kept going, all but rolling over on its back and showing me all it had. Records going back centuries, trivial and ultra secret, were all right there at my fingertips.
First things first: where were Doctor Delirium and Tiger Tim, and the Apocalypse Door? The computer didn’t even hesitate: all three were now located at Area 52, in the Antarctic, out past the McMurdo Sound. I grimaced, despite myself. There were harder places to get to and get into, but not many. Area 51 has always been a government joke, a public distraction, all smoke and mirrors to hold the world’s attention, while all the real secret research goes on in Area 52. That’s where America keeps all the dangerous and exotic weird stuff it’s accumulated down the years, trying to reverse engineer something useful out of it. Far and far away from anywhere civilised, of course, so that if something does go wrong . . . they can always blame it on global warming. Of course, they never get their hands on the really dangerous stuff. We always get there first, and grab the good stuff for ourselves. Droods aren’t big on sharing. But we let America find enough to keep them happy, and occupied. And who knows, maybe one day they’ll create something really neat. And then we’ll probably step in and steal it. Droods aren’t big on playing well with others, either.
I found an attached and encrypted file that looked interesting, so I opened it. Turned out to be a recent communication between Tiger Tim and the Immortals, in the form of a video recording. So I set it running, and sat back to watch it. The screen showed Tiger Tim, sitting at ease in an office I didn’t recognise. So this had to have been sent after he left the Doctor’s Amazon base. The rogue Drood looked very relaxed, and almost indecently pleased with himself, like the cat who’s just licked cream off the caged bird. He smiled casually at the camera.
“Hello, my secret masters. My hidden partners. Or whatever you see yourselves as this week. As far as I’m concerned, you just exist to get me what I want, and don’t you forget it. If you choose to think you’re in charge, that’s fine by me, but don’t get uppity. My family, the high and mighty Droods, thought they were in charge of me, right up to the point where I decided to prove them wrong. Anyway, you asked for an update, so here it is.
“Dear Doctor Delirium is still in the dark about our relationship. He still thinks he’s in charge. Though he doesn’t do much of anything, anymore. Just sits there in his very private office, weirding out over the Apocalypse Door. Won’t let anyone else near it. They say he talks to it, but until it starts actually answering him, I don’t think I’ll worry. I’m having him carefully watched, round the clock, just in case he suddenly decides to try and open the Door ahead of schedule. In which case my people will jump on him with heavy boots on.
“On your orders, oh my masters, I persuaded him to move everyone here to Area 52, and we’re settling in nicely. Taking control meant using up most of our remaining Accelerated Men, but that was to be expected. I’ve got my people running everything now. Everyone else is dead. The Doctor ordered them dumped outside in the ice, so he could use them for experiments later, but his heart wasn’t in it. He only really cares about his precious Door, these days. So I just have a few bodies brought in, now and then, for snacks.
“The Doctor did show some interest in the wide variety of strange and unusual objects stored in the Area Armoury. He was like a kid with new toys there, for a while. I kept an eye, just to make sure he didn’t press the wrong big red button. However, the Doctor now seems convinced that he’s found something he can use to keep himself safe and protected, after he opens the Apocalypse Door. So he can be King of the Earth, with all the hosts of Hell at his command. I am not convinced. He won’t let me see what it is, so I can’t be sure of what he’s found, or indeed if it exists at all outside of his increasingly addled mind. While we’re on the subject, take a look at this.”
The image on the screen changed abruptly, to show surveillance coverage from a presumably hidden camera in Doctor Delirium’s office. The mad scientist was dancing in front of the Apocalypse Door, which stood quietly upright on its own. The Doctor stopped abruptly and railed at the Door, waving his hands about. His voice was loud and harsh. I hit the pause button, and then zoomed in on the Door itself. I’d never seen it before. It did look quite remarkably ordinary, and everyday, except for the fact that it stood upright entirely unsupported. But given what just simple proximity had done to the Doctor . . . I started the message running again, and listened to the Doctor rant.
“It didn’t have to be like this! It didn’t! I was just going to blackmail all the governments of the Earth, and have them all bow down to me, and give me everything I ever wanted, but not now. Not now! You showed me. You were right all along. They laughed at me. They laughed at me! Never took me seriously! Well, now I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore! No. No. I will open the Door of Hell, smash all the locks and break all the bolts and the dead shall come forth to take their revenge on the living. Oh yes! And all the peoples of the Earth shall be outnumbered by the damned . . . Yes. People. Why should I care about people? What did they ever do, but laugh at me . . .”
He disappeared, his image replaced by Tiger Tim, slouched almost bonelessly in his comfortable chair. “See what I mean? Loony tune, big time. It’s a wonder to me he can still dress himself. Do we really need to indulge him anymore? Can’t I just kill him? As long as I don’t actually do it in front of his people, they’ll carry on taking orders from me. I don’t know why you’re dragging your feet on this. It’s not like we need him for anything . . . Except as a possible scapegoat, in case the Door turns out to be a dud, and we all need to disappear hastily into the background . . .” He smiled suddenly. “No. It’s real. The Door is very definitely everything they say it is. You can’t be around it for more than a few moments, and not know that. You can feel it, right down in your bones, in your soul. I’m quite looking forward to the opening. Let loose the Dogs of Hell, rain darkness down upon the Earth . . . Cull Humanity back to a more manageable level, just as I always wanted. And unlike the dear Doctor, I will be in control of the Door. I’ve done my research, quite separate from the Doctor’s. It should be simple enough to reverse the process, and have all the devils and all the damned just sucked back through the Door into Hell. And then I will slam the Door shut in their faces, and laugh at them. All right, yes, I admit it, that is just a theory. But then everything is, where the Apocalypse Door is concerned. But it all seems straightforward enough. As though whoever originally created the Door intended for it to be easy to use.”

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