And I might need to use it against him sometime.
Larry finally returned to his original position, not even breathing hard from his exertions. He took out his wand, started Time up again, then put the wand away and enjoyed the general unpleasantness. The whole crowd cried out in shock and surprise and agony. Bones broke, bruises blossomed, and blood spurted from mouths and noses. Some collapsed; some fainted; some lurched back and forth clutching at broken heads and cradling broken ribs. Augustus Grimm lay flat on his back, fortunately unconscious, so he couldn't feel all the terrible things Larry had done to him. Never get the dead mad; they don't have our sense of restraint.
I pretended a certain amount of surprise, then looked sternly at Larry.
"Wasn't that a bit extreme?"
"You're a fine one to talk," said Larry. "At least I don't rip the teeth right out of their heads. Besides, this bunch wouldn't have been quite so mad if they hadn't been customers, or potential customers, of Turnabout Inc. And therefore deserving of what just happened to them, on general principles. Like my elder brother, there is some shit up with which I will not put."
Those of the crowd who could had already departed, leaving the moaning and the unconscious behind. Larry turned his back on them all, studying the rest of the people on the busy street, most of whom were far too taken up with their own wants and needs to notice a minor scuffle. Business went on as usual, and Larry took it all in; and his cold, dead face showed nothing at all.
"I wasn't there that night," he said finally. "I was busy with the war, organising resistance against your damned mother. If I had been here, do you think it would have made any difference? Would my brother still be alive if I hadn't entrusted him to your care?"
"I couldn't save him," I said. "No-one could have. It was a war. People die in wars."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Is it?" He didn't look at me. He didn't expect an answer. "You're sure this is the street where he fell? This is where he disappeared?"
"A bit further down from here, but yes. I didn't actually see him die. So there is still some hope."
"Hope is for the living," said Larry. "The dead must make do with vengeance."
He still wasn't looking at me, apparently concentrating entirely on the street.
"I haven't seen Hadleigh in years," Larry said finally. "Don't even know what he looks like, these days."
"Shouldn't think many do," I said. "Only ones who see him now are his enemies and his victims; and they're not usually in any shape to talk about it afterwards."
"He isn't that bad," said Larry. "Just a really scary agent of the Good."
"You ever met Razor Eddie?" I said.
"Hadleigh isn't a monster," said Larry. "I have to believe that. The last living Oblivion brother can't be a monster."
I looked back at the ruins of Turnabout Inc. and invoked my gift. I concentrated on my inner eye, my third eye, and used it to summon up ghost images from the recent Past. Important events and significant people stamp themselves on Time, for a while. I let go of now, and focused my Sight on what had happened to Turnabout Inc. so very recently. The world went misty and uncertain, then snapped back into focus as the street changed before me. The shop was still a ruin; something kept me from going back any further; but Hadleigh Oblivion was standing right before me.
He didn't look like any of the usual ghost images I See in the Past: shimmering figures, translucent as soap bubbles, sometimes barely there at all. Hadleigh looked firm and solid and almost unnaturally real. A tall, forbidding presence, in a long leather coat so black it seemed almost a part of the night, with a great mane of long, dark hair. He stood tall and proud, arrogant in his certainty that he had a right to be there and to do whatever he felt like doing. There was a power in him. I could See it, feel it, even at such a distance. His head snapped round, and he stared right at me. His face was bone white, dominated by dark, unblinking eyes and a bright, happy smile. He could see me as clearly as I could See him, even though I was in a future that hadn't happened for him yet.
"Hello, John," he said, in a voice so calm and normal it was downright spooky. "Give my regards to Larry. I'll see you soon."
The vision broke, and the Past was gone. He'd dismissed me with casual ease, as though my gift and all its power was a thing of no consequence, next to him. And maybe he was right. My inner eye had slammed shut so tight it was giving me a headache. I looked at Larry, but he clearly hadn't noticed a thing, still lost in his own thoughts. I decided not to say anything about Hadleigh, for the moment.
He might not be a monster, but I wasn't at all sure he was still human.
Then both of us looked round sharply. No-one had said anything; no-one had called our names; but nonetheless, we knew. We looked down the Cheyne Walk approach, and there he was, Walker, large as life and twice as manipulative, strolling along the street as if he owned it. Heading straight for us. People hurried to get out of his way, and he no more noticed it than the air he breathed. Walker was a shark, and he only noticed other fish when he was hungry. He finally came to a halt before us, smiled easily, tipped his bowler hat politely to Larry, then fixed his steady gaze on me.
"I understand you're looking for Tommy Oblivion," he said, not bothering with pleasantries. "I know something of what happened to him, here, on this street on that terrible night; and as it happens, I am in a position to tell you something you need to know. But all knowledge has its price, and I'll only share what I know with you, John… if you'll do something for me."
"What do you want, Walker?" I said, resignedly, because I was pretty sure I already knew what he was going to say.
"Come walk with me, John, for a while. Walk with me now, and when we're finished, I'll tell you what you need to know."
"This is a bit desperate, isn't it?" I said. "You don't normally resort to open blackmail until much later in the game."
"Needs must when the hounds of time gnaw at our heels," said Walker, entirely unmoved.
"We don't have time for this," said Larry. "If you've got anything useful to contribute, Walker, say it. Or butt out. We're busy."
"Do we have a deal, John?" said Walker, conspicuously ignoring Larry.
"I could make you tell me," said Larry; and there was something in his cold, dead voice that made Walker turn to look at him.
"I rather doubt it," said Walker.
"Tell me what you know about my brother. Do it. Do it now."
"Ah, for the good old days," murmured Walker. "When dead men told no tales."
Larry went for his wand and Walker opened his mouth to use the Voice; but I was already there between them.
"Can you both please put your testosterone back where it belongs and save the showdown for another day? This isn't getting us anywhere. I'll go with you, Walker, let you show me all these things you think I need to see; but it had better be worth it."
"Oh, it will be," said Walker, smiling easily at me so he didn't need to look at Larry. "I have such sights to show you."
I had to raise an eyebrow at that. "You're quoting Hell-raiser? You've watched that movie?"
"Watched it? Dear boy, I was technical advisor."
I never know when he's joking.
I turned to Larry. "Sorry, but I have to do this. He'll never give up what he knows otherwise. I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, talk to people who knew Tommy and are still around. See if they can verify a connection between him and all the people on your list."
"All right," said Larry, not even a little bit graciously. "But don't be long. And don't make me come looking for you."
He turned his back on me and Walker, and strode off. I looked at Walker.
"You just don't give up, do you?"