That s odd, said Diana. The route number on the front of that bus is all wrong. It shouldn t be anywhere near here.
We watched curiously as the bus drew nearer, straddling the middle of the road, and then the driver slammed on the brakes so that the bus slowed down as it passed us. The whole frame shuddered from the sudden strain, and the wheels made harsh squealing noises. And every one of the tinted windows just disappeared, replaced by dozens of assorted gun barrels. They targeted Molly and me and Diana as we just stood there gaping, and all of them opened fire at once.
I armoured up. Molly raised a protective field before her. And Diana just stepped smartly backwards into a handy shadow and disappeared. I knew there had to be a reason why the Regent s agents were called Shadows, I thought as the first bullets found me. All the guns were firing at once, and the combined roar was like the wrath of God. A noise so loud it was actually physically painful, even inside my armour. The bullets issued from the side of the bus like a pirate galley s broadside; thousands of bullets from dozens of guns, like a wall of death. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly from my armour and were swallowed by Molly s shield, and chewed up the brick wall behind us, and, rather surprisingly, just bounced harmlessly off the Plymouth Fury without making a mark.
Don t you shoot at me, you bastards! screamed the sat nav. I m a classic! Shoot at them; I m just the ride! They re the ones you want! Shoot the fleshy ones!
We will have words later, I said to the sat nav.
I glanced quickly behind me. The door to the Establishment Club was firmly closed, and, amazingly, taking no damage at all from the massed fire raking back and forth across it. And the bullet holes in the brickwork were already repairing themselves. Bullets might be a bit of a low-class threat to a setup like the Establishment Club, but it was clear it could look after itself.
Whoever was giving the orders inside the bus soon realised that their armoury of guns wasn t having the hoped-for effect. The assault shut off abruptly, and the bus s engine roared as it sped up again. I ran out into the street and sprinted after the bus, my armour s speed more than a match for its hurried departure. I quickly caught up with the bus and plunged both my golden hands, well past the wrists, into the rear of the vehicle. My golden fingers dug in deep. I took a firm hold and then forced my golden heels into the street. The bus screeched to a halt despite itself, skidding wildly, as my heels dug two deep furrows in the road. I grinned behind my face mask. Good to be a Drood.
I wrestled the bus to a reluctant halt, the whole rear wall bowing out towards me, stretched and distorted by my hold. The driver gunned his engine and the bus shook back and forth as it fought to pull free, black smoke billowing out from the tyres. But I had my hold, and the bus wasn t going anywhere. I pushed my arms farther in and lifted the whole rear of the bus up off the road, so that the rear wheels just spun helplessly in midair.
The tinted windows at the rear of the bus disappeared, replaced by a whole bunch of gun barrels moving quickly to target me at point-blank range. They opened up with everything they had, trying to blast me loose, but I just stood there and took it. Bullets hammered me from head to toe, ricocheting in every direction at once, even back into the bus, and I didn t feel a single impact. Some of the guns fired directly into my face mask, and a lot of good it did them. I didn t even blink. One by one the guns ran out of ammunition, and then they all suddenly withdrew. The tinted back windows reappeared, and the bus driver shut down his engine.
It was very quiet in the street. No gunfire, no straining engine, no squealing tyres; not a single sound. I dropped the rear of the bus back onto the road, and it bounced a few times on its heavy tyres before settling. I wrenched my hands back out of the bus, and they emerged easily amid the shriek of ruptured and tearing metal. Molly came forward to join me, and stood beside me as we looked over the silent double-decker.
What the hell was that all about? said Molly.
I think, I said, that we have just been the victims of the hidden-world equivalent of a drive-by shooting. What the hell did these silly bastards think they were doing? Battles in the hidden world are supposed to stay hidden from the everyday world! You don t squabble in front of the children; everyone knows that!
Look around you, said Molly.
It took me only a moment to see what she meant. There was traffic all around us; cars and taxis, white vans and cycle couriers but not one of them was moving. Time had stopped around us. The drive-by and its intended victims were all caught in a single frozen moment, held between the tick and tock of the world s clock. So the shooting could take place without anyone noticing, until time started up again. The bus would be gone, and all that remained would be the bullet-ridden corpses of the victims. Just another mystery in the busy heart of London. Probably put it down to gangs.
A drive-by shooting, I growled. I hate them. I mean, come on. Is there anything more cowardly than a drive-by? Drive up at speed, spray bullets in every direction, hope you hit the right target among all the innocent bystanders and then run away. I want the creeps behind this, Molly. I want to explain to them the error of their ways. Let s take a look inside the bus.
Let s, said Molly. I feel we should have words with these scumbags.
Harsh words, I said.
We walked along the side of the big red double-decker bus. The windows remained darkly tinted and very firmly closed. Not a sound or a movement from inside. I came to the cab door, well above the ground, reached up with one golden hand, and casually tore out the whole door and threw it aside. The sound of rending metal was very loud in the quiet, followed by an equally loud reverberating clang as the door hit the ground. A massive gun barrel protruded from inside the cab, aimed directly into my face mask. I didn t give the gun s owner time to fire, just grabbed the long barrel and jerked the whole thing right out of his hands. There was a howl of pain and upset from inside the cab, from the gun s owner, who hadn t let go of his gun fast enough.
I looked the gun over. Cheap Kalashnikov knock-off piece of shit. The assassin s gun of choice when he hasn t enough money for anything decent. I broke the thing in two and threw the pieces aside. Cheap guns and a drive-by shooting on a London double-decker didn t really tie in with the sophistication of time control. Devices like that are hard to find, and they never come cheap. I peered into the cab, but there was no one at the wheel. The driver had retreated into the bus s gloomy interior and was hidden among his fellow would-be assassins.
It s not like we ve any shortage of enemies, Molly said behind me. But I can t think of anyone dumb enough to organise such a low-rent attack on us. I say we board the bus and bounce people off the walls until someone feels like telling us what s going on here.
Sounds like a plan to me, I said.
And me, said Diana, stepping elegantly out of a nearby shadow. She didn t look in the least troubled or disturbed by what had just happened. Molly and I both made a point of not jumping even a little bit when she reappeared, just on general principle.
Regent of Shadows, said Molly. Much suddenly becomes clear. I take it you re one of his Special Agents?
Of course, said Diana. One of his first, in fact. We go way back, the Regent and me. You think he d entrust your safety to just anyone? I am rather annoyed at the crudity of the attack, though. I m used to better, quite frankly. Fiendish master plans and complicated death traps; that s more my sort of thing. I say we go inside the bus and kick bottom!