Secret Histories 10: Dr. DOA (9 page)

“Yes,” I said. “Do my duty to the family.”

Scraps.2 snorted loudly. A disconcerting sound, given that he didn’t have a real nose. “Hardly. He’d have said,
Find the bastard who did this to you, and really ruin his day
.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I said.

Dr Mary looked over the equipment the assistants were assembling around my bed, and glared at the Armourer. “What is all this? You can’t just bring untested equipment into a sterile environment!”

“We can if it’s an emergency,” said Maxwell. “We can do anything, if it’s an emergency. Probably part of our job description, isn’t it, Vikki?”

“Almost certainly,” said Victoria. “Don’t you mess with us, Dr Mary. We have guns. And other things.”

“Oh yes,” said Maxwell. “And our other things are much worse than guns.”

“You have nurses,” said Victoria. “We have lab assistants. Fear their ingenuity.”

I smiled at Molly. “I am definitely feeling better for their being here.”

She smiled back but didn’t say anything.

In the end, the doctors just backed off and let the Armourer get on with it. Molly stayed where she was. She wouldn’t let go of my hand. The assistants took one look at her and worked around her. I leaned back on the bed, ready to object if anything looked like it was getting invasive. But they just took it in turns to point things at me and then study
the results on their laptops. I watched their faces closely, and the way Maxwell and Victoria muttered together as they considered the various readings. There was a growing tension in the air, as one by one the assistants were forced to admit there was nothing their marvellous new equipment could usefully do. Maxwell and Victoria ended up standing at the foot of my bed again.

“I’m sorry, Eddie,” said Maxwell. “I really thought we had something to bring to the table.”

“We brought exotic tech and alien tech,” said Victoria. “And a few things various field agents picked up in their travels.”

“And Droods have been to some pretty strange places.”

“We even brought a few things the assistants came up with specially, just for you.”

“Too extreme to be tried, usually,” Maxwell admitted.

“But none of it worked!” Victoria’s voice rose sharply.

“Hush, dear, hush,” said Maxwell. “We’ve done all we can.”

“It’s not enough!”

“We can see the poison, Eddie,” Maxwell said steadily. “But not identify its components. Whatever it is, it’s outside our experience.”

“Completely unknown.”

“Not from around here.”

One by one the lab assistants departed, taking their equipment with them. The doctors tried hard not to look like they were thinking,
We told you so.
The assistants looked to me like mourners filing out of a funeral. Maxwell and Victoria stood close together, too busy comforting each other to think about comforting me. Victoria was dabbing at her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

“If anyone should be crying here,” I said, “I think it should be me. Stop trying to upstage me.”

“He’s being so brave!” sniffed Victoria.

“We’re the Armourer!” said Maxwell. “We’re supposed to come up
with something amazing at the last moment, and save the day. But we didn’t. I can’t help thinking your uncle Jack would have succeeded.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Scraps.2 said firmly. “Trust me. The first thing you need to learn about your job is that not every problem has a solution. Come on; I’ll take you back to the Armoury. You can think better there.” He turned his heavy steel head to look at me. “Sorry to leave you, Eddie, but I can help them. I can’t help you.”

“Understood,” I said.

The Armourer went off with the robot dog, leaving me with the doctors. I looked at them steadily.

“How long have I got?”

They muttered together for quite a while, not wanting to commit themselves, but every time they glanced at me, I was still looking at them, so they went back to debating the matter. Finally, Dr Mary faced me squarely.

“Best estimate, three months. And the last month will be . . . pretty bad.”

It hit me hard to hear my death sentence announced so certainly.

“So all that’s left,” I said after a while, “is to track down my murderer. And make him pay.” I looked at Molly. She was crying quietly. I squeezed her hand. “Don’t, love. I’m dying, and I’m not crying. It’s just another deadline. We can do deadlines.”

Molly stopped her tears through an effort of will, and nodded her head firmly. “Who could have done this?”

“I might know,” said the Sarjeant-at-Arms. “Everyone but Eddie and Molly, leave the area. This is a security matter.”

No one argued. No one does, when the Sarjeant says that. The family trusts him to keep us safe. The doctors filed out quickly. I got the sense they were almost relieved to be getting away from the accusing gaze of the man they couldn’t save. I knew I was being hard on them. I didn’t care. The Sarjeant waited till he was sure everyone was gone, and then leaned in close.

“There is a man most people believe to be just an urban legend of the hidden world. Dr DOA. Blamed for every death that has no obvious cause, he is the killer that other killers fear. The assassin who strikes from the shadows, who murders his victim without even being noticed. By the time the victim finds out he’s been poisoned, if he ever finds out, it’s too late. Dr DOA’s poison is always fatal. Always.”

“No one has ever recovered?” said Molly. “No one’s ever beaten the poison?”

“No,” said the Sarjeant. “And he’s supposed to have killed some people I would have said were unkillable. Whatever he’s using, there’s no defence against it and no cure.”

“What do we know about this . . . Dr DOA?” I said.

“Not much. No one knows who he really is, where he came from, or how he does what he does. Which is why most people prefer to believe he’s just an urban legend. But this fits his usual MO, and his usual arrogance. To get inside Drood Hall, past all our security, poison one particular Drood, and then get out again without ever being noticed . . . Before today, I would have said that was impossible!”

“Calm down, Sarjeant,” I said. “A complexion that colour can’t be good for you.”

I was genuinely amused to see him taking all of this as a personal affront.

He sniffed loudly. “I will find out how he did it. And if any of my people have been lax, there will be blood on the walls.”

“Any idea as to how he might have got in?” I said.

“I’m working on it,” he said grimly. “In the meantime, I have questions for you, Eddie. Where you’ve been, who you’ve spoken to . . .”

“Later,” I said. The Sarjeant started to say something, saw the look on my face, nodded abruptly, and left. I turned to Molly. “He must really be concerned. He was actually being considerate.”

The Special Isolation Area seemed very quiet, with just the two of us in it. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and got carefully
to my feet. Molly was quickly there at my side, ready to catch me if I fell. But my legs held steady, and my head remained clear. I felt fine. Not at all like I was dying. I smiled reassuringly at Molly, and hoped the smile looked more convincing than it felt.

“See? Not dead yet. Tell you what; let’s go for a walk. I need to be out among living things. See the world while I still can.”

Molly started to say something, and found she couldn’t. She grabbed hold of me and crushed me tightly to her, hanging on like a drowning woman. I could feel her heart hammering next to mine, almost as fast as mine. Like trapped birds in cages who can see the cat approaching. I murmured comforting words in her ear and made myself be calm, to calm her down. It helped me, to be able to help her. It stopped me thinking about me. I gave her one last hug and pushed her gently away from me. She let go immediately and stood back. There were still patches of raised colour on her face, but her eyes were dry and her mouth was steady.

“We find him, and we kill him,” she said. “Nothing else matters.”

“Right,” I said.

We stood and looked at each other for a while. She’d never seemed lovelier, or more determined. I wanted to look at her forever.

“All the things I meant to do, for you and for me,” I said. “Places I meant to take you, sights I meant to show you . . . Special places I always meant to share with you. When I had the time. Things I put off because I always thought there would be more time. And now, suddenly, there isn’t.”

“You can’t die,” said Molly. “What would I do without you?”

“Typical,” I said. “Always thinking of yourself.”

We both managed a small smile. Trying to be supportive of each other.

“I refuse to believe your death is inevitable,” said Molly. “I mean, the first time we got together, you were dying! Poisoned by strange
matter, from where you’d been shot with an arrow by an elf lord. Ethel pulled you back from that, at the last moment. You need to talk to her, Eddie. Even if your family isn’t talking to her. Maybe especially because it isn’t. What’s going on there, anyway?”

“Damned if I know,” I said. “I’ll have to find out before we leave the Hall.”

Molly leaned in close, lowering her voice. “Your family might be listening to us.”

“You think my family would bug a hospital ward?”

“You don’t?”

“Given that I haven’t a clue what’s going on with the new Matriarch . . . I’m not sure about anything, right now.”

“Could her falling-out with Ethel . . . have something to do with Dr DOA’s getting into the Hall undetected?”

“Good point,” I said. “Something else to look into.”

“Then there was the time that Immortal almost killed you,” said Molly, reverting to her normal tone of voice. “And I had to go haul your arse back from Limbo. You’re really very hard to kill, Eddie. So, third time lucky.”

“Of course,” I said.

I didn’t believe that, but I could see Molly needed to, so I went along.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

*   *   *

I walked back through the Hall, striding it out because I didn’t want to have to stop and talk to anyone. Molly hurried along at my side. Everywhere we went, people fell back to watch us pass. Some fell silent; others murmured urgently together. Word had got around. I could feel the pressure of their gazes. I wanted to turn suddenly and shout,
Boo!
at them, just to see what would happen. I increased my pace, and Molly stuck close, glaring at anyone who looked like they might even be thinking of getting in our way, or even getting too close. We left the
Hall through the front door, and I felt a very real relief at putting the huge old building behind me. I’ve always associated the Hall with bad news, and the worst parts of my life.

“You should never have come back, Eddie,” said Molly, echoing my thoughts. “Bad things are always happening to you here. Hell, they nearly killed me once. This whole place is just one big jinx.”

I decided to go for a walk through the grounds. Across the wide-open lawns, under the iron grey sky. I set off at a steady pace, breathing deeply, savouring the familiar rich scents and the bracingly cold air. How could I be dying, when I felt so alive? How could I be murdered, when the world was still so full of life? I looked around me, and it was like seeing it all for the first time. The lawns and the flower beds, the copses of beech and ash and oak trees, the artificial lake . . . Molly moved along beside me, saying nothing, just being there.

The peacocks scattered as I approached them, letting out their eerie cries in protest, but the gryphons ambled happily forward to greet me. Great lumpy creatures, with scaly grey bodies and long, morose faces. Just psychic enough to see the near future, and serve as an early-warning system against intruders. They were the only part of Drood defences that actually looked forward to an invasion; because they got to eat the invaders. They smelled appalling, because they ate carrion and loved to roll in dead things. Which is why they’re never allowed inside the Hall, even when it’s raining. Especially when it’s raining. They bumped against my legs and nuzzled my hands with their soft mouths.

“I used to sneak scraps out to them when I was a kid,” I said.

“I doubt they remember,” said Molly. “They can’t be the same ones.”

“Gryphons live for centuries,” I said. “Lucky bastards . . .”

A sudden surge of anger burst through me. I pushed the gryphons aside and strode on. Molly had to hurry to catch up. We passed a huge display of weird and unnatural flowers, with great heads bobbing at the top of long stalks. The heads blossomed, and turned to watch me as I passed.

“Bad news really does travel fast,” I said.

I circled round the ancient hedge maze, with its tall green walls. There was a time when the maze served as a prison for the living rogue armour, Moxton’s Mistake. I had to wear it once, to survive. My skin still crawled at the thought of its embrace. Everywhere I looked reminded me of some past adventure, some vital part of what was once my life, and now was history.

I took Molly down to the artificial lake, to watch the swans sail elegantly by. They saw us and held well back. They’d learned to be wary of Molly, because she had a tendency to throw things at them. Hard, heavy things, not at all bready. The surface of the lake was still, the swans hardly moving. It all seemed so peaceful. Like nothing bad could be happening on such an ordinary day.

“I did wonder if the undine might manifest for me,” I said. “But apparently not.”

I felt obscurely upset about that. She’d made an appearance for Jack’s funeral.

“She knew Jack,” said Molly, following my thoughts with the ease of long acquaintance. “I never did get to the bottom of that. You didn’t know her, did you?”

“No,” I said. “I just thought she might . . . She’s another of the mysteries of this place I always took for granted. I knew there was a story, but I never pressed anyone . . . Don’t suppose I ever will now.”

I moved on, and Molly came with me. It didn’t seem fair to me that the world should just keep on going when I wouldn’t.

“You could always come back as a ghost!” Molly said brightly. “Like Jacob, in the old Chapel.”

“The family doesn’t allow ghosts to hang around,” I said. “Or you wouldn’t be able to move in the corridors for ectoplasm and poltergeist phenomena. The family gets through a lot of soldiers in its never-ending war.”