“I keep getting lost.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Jacob,” I said.

“And,” said the Sarjeant, “there have even been reports of him chasing the ghost of the headless nun through the catacombs.”

Jacob grinned. “Hey, she’s the only other ghost in the Hall. Can you blame me if I just want to swap a little ectoplasm? Nice arse, for a nun. Damn, she’s fast on her feet, especially considering she can’t see where she’s going.”

“You’re a member of the Inner Circle!” snapped the Sarjeant. “You’re supposed to set an example!”

“Oh, I am, I am…”

“Stop that,” I said quickly. “Your ectoplasm’s going all quivery. Let us move on. Are we any closer to establishing who was behind the recent attacks on the Hall, just before I was summoned home? Do we have any new information?”

“Nothing. Not a word,” said the Armourer.

“Perhaps we should ask the strange matter,” said the Sarjeant pointedly. “Since it did turn out to be responsible for the destruction of the Heart, in the end.”

“Wasn’t me,” said a calm and reasonable voice from inside the warm crimson glow. “I was still searching for the Heart at that stage, and didn’t even know it was in this dimension. You must remember; the Heart had made many enemies, from all the worlds and races it enslaved before it came here. Some of those enemies have been looking for the Heart almost as long as me.”

That sounded reasonable enough, but though I had much to thank the strange matter for, and it always said the right things…the fact remained that the strange matter was still very much an unknown factor. All we knew about it was what it had chosen to tell us. If it had been behind the other attacks, would it admit that? We had no way to compel the truth from it. I rubbed at my forehead as a slow, grinding headache began. Being paranoid is very tiring, but when you’re a Drood it’s the only way to stay one step ahead.

“Strange matter…” I said.

“Oh, please, call me Ethel.”

“We are not going to call you Ethel,” I said, very firmly.

“Why not? What’s wrong with Ethel? It’s a perfectly good name. I like it. It’s honest, it’s charming, it’s…me.”

“We are not calling you Ethel!”

“Nothing wrong with Ethel,” said the strange matter. “Winston Churchill had a pet frog called Ethel.”

“No he didn’t!”

“He might have. You don’t know.”

“I’m calling you Strange,” I said. “It’s the only name that fits.”

“You have no sense of fun,” said Strange.

“Actually…” said Molly.

“Hush,” I said quickly.

The Armourer produced another of his impressive throat clearings. “How did you get on with the Matriarch, Eddie?”

“Not good,” I admitted. “She told me to go to Hell. She’d rather see the whole family collapse than prosper with me in charge.”

The Armourer nodded reluctantly. “Mother always could be very stubborn…But you have to keep trying with her, Eddie. You need her on your side if you’re to get the whole family moving in the same direction. She represents the past, and tradition, and all those things that make the family feel safe and secure.”

“It isn’t going to be easy,” I said.

“Of course it isn’t going to be easy, Eddie! You killed her favourite son, my brother James! I know you had to do it, and I still have trouble forgiving you. The old Gray Fox…was the best of us, for so many years. And don’t forget; he had a lot of admirers, outside the family. Old friends and old enemies, who won’t be at all happy to hear he died at your hands. They could turn up here at any time, ready and willing to express their extreme displeasure…and then you’re going to need the whole family backing you up.”

“We could say James had gone rogue.” Penny suggested tentatively.

“Who’d believe that?” I said. “The Gray Fox always was the best of us. You’d better beef up the Hall’s defences, Uncle Jack; just in case.”

I finally got to the meat of the meeting, and told them about MI5’s ambush outside my old flat. The Armourer and the Sarjeant insisted I tell it all, in as much detail as I could remember. Molly chimed in here and there, sometimes helping and sometimes not. The Armourer and the Sarjeant both reacted very strongly when I told them who was behind the attack.

“The prime minister?” said the Sarjeant incredulously. “Who does he think he is, to take on the Droods? Man’s getting thoughts above his station. We can’t allow this to go unpunished, Edwin. People might think we were getting soft.”

“I’ve already sent him a very definite message,” I said.

“Killing a few MI5 agents won’t bother him,” said the Armourer. “As far as he’s concerned, they’re all expendable. We need to hit him where he lives.”

“Right,” said the Sarjeant. “Can’t have the prime minister getting cheeky. We need to slap him down hard, Edwin. Make an example of him.”

I shook my head slowly. “We can’t afford to show our hand yet, and risk revealing how weak we really are. And no one else in power seems to be feeling their oats. Penny took me down to the War Room; it was all very quiet.”

“Quiet before the storm,” said Penny. “Our researchers are all over the world’s media, official and unofficial, getting a feel for each government’s mood. And all our telepaths, scryers, and clairvoyants are working full time.”

I had to smile. Politicians only think they can keep secrets from the Droods.

“So far, everyone’s being very cautious, not wanting to rock the boat until they know whether or not there’s sharks in the water,” said the Armourer. “I don’t think they can believe their own reports about how weak and disorganised we are, at present. But that can’t last. They know all our field agents have gone to ground, and most of them know or suspect about the golden torcs’ disappearance. So sooner or later, somebody’s going to do something…just to see what happens. To see how much they can get away with. There might even be a direct strike against the Hall itself. Remember when the Chinese tried to nuke us, back in the sixties?”

“We have to do something about the prime minister,” the Sarjeant said firmly. “Something sufficiently unpleasant, to send a clear message to all the world leaders.”

“All right,” I said reluctantly. “Come up with some options, and I’ll look at them.”

“I thought one of the reasons you took over running the Droods was to free the world from Drood control,” said Molly. “I distinctly remember you saying something about letting politicians make their own decisions.”

“I did,” I said. “Turns out things are more complicated than that.”

“Isn’t that always the first response of every dictator?”

“Look; survival first, politics second, okay?” I said.

“Just wanted you to be sure of what you’re getting into,” Molly said sweetly.

“Speaking of survival,” said Penny. “We need to get as many of the family as possible into the new silver torcs, as quickly as possible. We’re just too vulnerable to sudden attack, as things stand.”

I nodded reluctantly. “All right, you guys get together and draw up a list for me to consider. Those who should get their torcs right away, those who should but only after they’ve proved themselves worthy, and those who won’t ever be trusted with a torc again.”

“Such as?” said Penny, her cool eyes openly challenging me.

“Anyone who knew about the secret of the golden torcs and just went along with it,” I said sternly. “Any unrepentant Zero Tolerance, and anyone who’d more than likely use a torc to start a civil war within the family. Use your own best judgement. We’re only talking about a small percentage of scumbags, I hope. Strange, any problem with producing so much strange matter, for the torcs and armour, so quickly?”

“Please, call me Ethel.”

“Not if there was a gun to my head.”

“You can have as many silver torcs as you want, Eddie,” Strange said easily. “It’s just a matter of bringing more of me through from my home dimension. I am great and limitless, wise and wonderful…But you don’t really need torcs, you know. I could teach you all to be superhuman. You have such potential within you, you humans. To be far greater than any torc could ever make you. You could all shine like stars.”