Walker and I took our time, wandering back through the many trophied rooms and halls of Place Gloria. I’d already used my Sight to locate the hidden bomb and turn off the timing mechanism.
“I think I’ll take a good look around before I leave,” said Walker. “Bound to be something here I can use to get my Voice up and running again.”
“Can you do that?” I said. “With the Authorities gone?”
Walker smiled. “The Voice isn’t something the Authorities gave me, Eddie; it’s something they did to me. All I have to do is find the right power source, and I can recharge it. Just like the Portable Timeslip.”
“Be my guest,” I said. “I don’t want anything. Not from him.”
“What could he have that the Droods wouldn’t already have?” said Walker generously.
“Still,” I said. “Don’t take too long. When I leave, I’m resetting the timer on the bomb. So no one ever has to know about . . . all this. Alexander King was a good man in his time. A real legend. No one needs to know what he was like at the end. A scared old man, in an empty treasure house. Our field needs legends like the Independent Agent.”
“So he can inspire others to become rogue agents like you?” said Walker. “Standing alone and valiant against the corruption of established organisations?”
“Something like that,” I said.
Walker shook his head. “Heroes. Always more trouble than they’re worth.”
“Somebody has to keep the big boys honest,” I said.
Why be an agent? To protect the world from all the other agents.
EPILOGUE
Walker went back to the Nightside. I went home.
I told the Matriarch what happened. Made a full re-port. She just nodded. She did, after all, know Alexander King better than any of us.
I went to see the Armourer. I told him I killed the Independent Agent. He was pleased. He asked how I got on with all the new toys he’d given me: the Chameleon Codex, the Gemini Duplicator, the new skeleton key. I told him I hadn’t used any of them. I’d been so busy, I’d forgotten all about them.
His face went a colour not normally seen in nature, and I had to call some of his assistants to bring him a nice soothing drink.
And finally, I went home, to Molly. She was back in the wood between the worlds, back from her mission. We lay down on a grassy bank together. She didn’t tell me about her mission, and I didn’t tell her about mine. We just lay there, side by side, happy to be with each other again.
I never did tell her about Honey Lake. The woman I didn’t love, and who didn’t love me. Who died in my arms. But I will always remember her, and the time we had together, and how things might have gone differently, if only . . .