"Didn’t she tell you?" I said.
"Didn’t tell me one thing more than she absolutely had to, duckie. Just the hired help, that’s all I was. And she wanted the whole package put together impossibly quickly, as well as extremely secretly. Gave me less than twelve hours to get the job done, and then was very rude to me when I tried to explain how difficult that was going to be. The words guts and garters were mentioned, and not in a good way."
He carried on some more about how overworked and underappreciated he was, but I’d stopped listening. Grandmother wanted me dead and had only resorted to declaring me rogue when her assassination attempt failed. And twelve hours…that had to be significant. What could have happened in that short time frame, to set the Matriarch so fiercely against me? I did a good job at Saint Baphomet’s. Did everything I was ordered to do, and got out clean.
"So you don’t know anything useful," I said finally, cutting across his well-rehearsed self-pity.
"I could ask around," he said with a vague and very languid gesture.
"But all you’ll get at this stage is gossip. Of course, now that you’re rogue…If you were looking for a new role in the world, or a secure position, I’m sure I could find a use for you in my organisation. If only because it would be absolutely killing for me to be able to say ever so casually at one of my little soirées that I had my very own Drood on the payroll! I know people who would just shit at the very thought! I could be very generous to you, Eddie. And what better way to get back at your snotty family?"
"I don’t think so," I said. "I’m…otherwise engaged. There are answers out there, and I will find them. Nothing is going to stop me."
"Of course, of course," said the Middleman. He shifted uneasily, disturbed at something he heard in my voice. "But I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you there. Nothing at all. I deal in people, you understand, not information. I could put you together with certain specialists who might be able to assist you in your quest. For a consideration, you understand."
"How about you help me, in return for my not killing you in horrible and inventive ways?" I said.
He sniffed and puffed sulkily on his cigarillo. "Typical Drood. Go ahead; threaten me, bully me, see if I care. Why should you be any different from the rest of your appalling family? No one appreciates what I go through for them. I swear, I’m so delicate these days that I’m not long for this world…"
I raised a hand in self-defence. "All right! How about you help me for the satisfaction of putting one over on the Drood family, who’ve been using you for years without paying you? Wouldn’t you like that?"
He considered me thoughtfully. "Why should I risk upsetting your very powerful, not to mention vengeful, family…when I could seriously ingratiate myself with them by handing you over? They might be so grateful they’d finally let me off the hook."
"You really think they’d do that?" I said. "The Droods never give up anything they own. And do you think you have any way of making me stay here till they come to collect me?"
"No…and no," the Middleman said sadly. "So…run along, dear boy. Don’t let me keep you; you’re free to go. I never bother with a threat I can’t back up."
"If only everyone was so civilised," I said gravely.
I was turning to leave when the Middleman leaned forward suddenly. "There is someone you could talk to. She knows many things, most of which she’s not supposed to. And she has more reason than most to hate your family. The wild witch Molly Metcalf."
"Ah," I said. "Molly. Yes."
"Do I detect a problem? You don’t sound too enthusiastic."
"Molly and I have a history," I said.
The Middleman laughed and spread his hands as though embracing the universe. "Who doesn’t, dear boy? It’s what makes the world go round!"
I armoured down as I walked out of the Thai café, the living armour melting back into my torc. Never wear the gold in public. I smiled slightly. I might be outcast from my family, and on the run, but I was still following their rules. Behind me, the Thai café staff hurried to lock the door and pull down the blinds. I didn’t blame them. I stood outside for a while, thinking, and then looked up suddenly as for the first time I realised how quiet the street was. I looked around me, and there was no one to see anywhere, up or down the street. No traffic, no pedestrians. The busy sounds of the city continued off in the distance, but my little part of it was completely deserted. Which just didn’t happen at this time of the evening, unless the whole area had been quietly and efficiently sealed off. And the only people with enough clout to do that, in the very heart of London, were my family. No one says no to the Droods. So; they’d found me. I looked around sharply as a man came strolling casually out of a side street. A very smart, very smooth man, with a familiar face, looking inordinately pleased with himself: Matthew Drood.
His manner was assured, even cocky, but I noticed he still came to a halt a respectful distance away from me. He smiled and nodded, and I nodded to him. As far as I could tell, he’d come alone, which worried me. That wasn’t family policy, when it came to dealing with a rogue. He seemed to be expecting me to say something, to defend or justify myself, so I just stood there, staring back at him. Matthew frowned slightly and shot the gleaming white cuffs of his expensive City outfit.
"I knew you’d come here first, Eddie," he said smugly. "Simple deduction, old boy. All I had to do was stake the place out and wait."
"Actually, this was my third stop," I said. "Late as always, Matthew. Why did they choose you for this? Volunteer, did you, to impress the Matriarch? Or maybe Alex? You’re not still mad at me over her, are you? It was a long time ago; we were just teenagers."
"Of course I volunteered," Matthew said angrily. "You’re a disgrace to the family, Eddie. I always said you were no good, and now my judgement has been vindicated."
"What did they offer you?" I said. "Really; I’m curious. I mean, you wouldn’t have been my first choice to take down a dangerous and experienced rogue. You’ve never been any good at the physical side of what we do. The old ultraviolence…Leaning on stuffed shirts in the City is more your level; putting the wind up stockbrokers who’ve been caught with their hand in the till."
Matthew glared at me, bright red spots burning on his cheeks. "Once I’ve proved myself by bringing you in, they’re going to give me all your territory and responsibilities, old boy, as well as my own. I’ll be the biggest and best agent in one of the most important cities in the world. The Matriarch gave me her word, personally."
"She’s using you, Matthew, just like she used me." I felt suddenly tired, worn down. "She’s setting us both up. Can’t you see that? She’s ready to throw you away, just to slow me down till more experienced agents can get here. We can’t trust the Matriarch anymore, Matthew. She’s got her own agenda now."
Matthew looked at me as though I’d suddenly started speaking in tongues. "She’s…the Matriarch. Her word is law. We live and die at her pleasure. That’s the way it’s always been. And you’re just a dirty little traitor!"
I looked around me. There was still no sign of any backup for Matthew. Maybe he really had been the only one close enough…