“You have got to be kidding,” I said. “I wouldn’t trust that bunch to guess my weight. I certainly wouldn’t let them trample around inside a mind that’s been messed about with as much as William’s has . . . They might never get out again. The Armourer did say he’d come up with some kind of mind-scanning device . . . but his methods aren’t exactly subtle, either.”
“You just have to give William some time,” said Rafe. “He’ll recover, eventually.”
“What can you tell me about the rogue Drood known as Tiger Tim?” I said, deliberately changing the subject. “His name came up in connection with the LA auction and, surprisingly, with Doctor Delirium.”
William looked up suddenly from his tea chest. “Now there’s a name from the past! Timothy Drood . . . Yes. Nasty little man. Nice enough when you had something he wanted, but it was always him first and everyone else second. What we used to call a bad seed, in my young days. I can’t believe someone hasn’t killed him yet, if only on general principles . . . He was hiding out somewhere in South America, last I heard. Peru?”
“He’s moved, since then,” said Rafe. “Just ahead of being kicked out, as usual. He’s holed up deep in the Amazon rain forest these days.”
“The same area as Doctor Delirium,” I said.
“Well yes, technically,” said Rafe. “But the Amazon rain forest does cover a hell of a lot of ground. They’re not exactly neighbours.”
“Doctor Delirium and Tiger Tim,” said William. “The team-up you never expected! The horror, the horror . . .” He got the giggles, waved a careless hand and turned back to his tea chest. He grabbed something, studied it closely, and then straightened up waving a dusty file triumphantly. “Here it is! Knew it was somewhere near the top . . . The Shudder File. Carefully annotated in the Independent Agent’s own handwriting. And according to this Post-it note on the cover, from the Drood cleanup team, Alexander King kept this particular file inside a locked box, inside a wall safe. So it must be worth looking at . . .” He opened the file and leafed quickly through it. “Yes . . . Oh, this is bad and nasty stuff, all right. A lot of supernatural and super-science weapons and devices, all of them banned by any number of international treaties. The Speaking Gun, The Ubershreck Device, Mephisto’s Minuet . . . All the kind of thing no one in their right mind would want to mess with.”
“Did Alexander King actually possess these things?” I said, reaching for the file. Walker pulled it away, glaring at me as I held my hands up in surrender. “I just meant,” I said, “that if some of these things are still lying around Place Gloria, we need to warn the people working there.”
“Oh no,” said William. “This is more of a wants list—items he was interested in acquiring. If only so other people couldn’t use them against him. Ah! Yes, here we are! The Apocalypse Door!”
“What does it say?” I said, trying to peer over his shoulder. He hurried around the other side of the chest, so I couldn’t.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute, I’m ˚ reading!” he said testily. “Hmmm. Not a lot, actually. It’s not just another hell gate, however. A hell gate is just a rather dramatic name for a dimensional door that allows limited travel between the various planes of existence. The Apocalypse Door . . . is far more than that. Oh yes. It opens the Gates of Hell, and lets out all that may be found there. The Dukes of Hell, all the major and minor demons, all of the fallen and all of the damned, from the very beginnings of Time. To do what they will upon the Earth. Even Satan himself will come forth, the ancient Enemy, to trample the cities of man beneath his cloven hooves . . .”
“Hell on Earth,” I said. “Forever, and ever, and ever . . .”
“How is that even possible?” said Rafe, snatching the file out of William’s hands, and studying it himself. “How could any material being release those imprisoned by God?”
“A disturbing thought, I’ll grant you,” said William, sneaking up on Rafe and grabbing the file back again. He pulled a face at Rafe. “No one knows how old the Apocalypse Door is, but it says here . . . that the Door was possibly created by one Nicholas Hobb, the Serpent’s Son. Oh, we are definitely into legend here, rather than history. According to these handwritten notes . . . the Door has been passed back and forth for centuries, from one careful owner to another, its true nature largely forgotten. Most of its owners thought of it as little more than a curiosity, a charming fake, or just a conversation piece. The last known owner was . . . the Collector! I did hear he was dead; maybe that’s how the Door came up for auction in Los Angeles.”
“I don’t think the Really Old Curiosity Shoppe people realised just how important the Door was,” I said, just to show I was keeping up. “If they had, they’d have held a separate auction just for the Door, under much heavier security.”
“Now this really is interesting!” said William, sitting precariously on the edge of the tea chest. “It’s not just enough to own the Door, you see. Oh no! You need very specific and powerful magics to open it. Or it’s just a door. There’s nothing here, unfortunately, as to what those items might be . . . but I’m guessing they’d be very hard to come by. Don’t look at me like that! I’m just curious!”
“Magic isn’t really Doctor Delirium’s area of expertise,” I said.
“No,” said Rafe. “But I did hear something about Tiger Tim breaking into the Infernal Museum in Vienna last year, and making off with a whole bunch of rare and restricted grimoires . . .”
“It’s all coming together, isn’t it?” I said. “And not in a good way. Presumably, Doctor Delirium will threaten to open the Door, unless all the governments of the world give him . . . well, everything he asks for. And he could ask for anything, because who would dare say no?”
“What if the world calls his bluff?” said Rafe. “How can it profit the Doctor, or Tiger Tim, to actually open the Apocalypse Door?”
“Indeed,” said William, dropping the file carelessly back into the tea chest. “There’s absolutely nothing in there about closing the Door again, or compelling the damned to go back through it into Hell again.” He sniffed loudly. “Bit of a design fault there, if you ask me. Unless the Door’s designer was having a bit of a down day. I get those.”
“And if Doctor Delirium is pissed off enough at being laughed at and not taken seriously all these years . . .” I said. “Oh, we have got to get the Door back from him, before he does something silly that we’ll all regret.”
“Would Tiger Tim really let Doctor Delirium open the Door?” said Rafe. “I mean, he may be rogue, but he’s still a Drood. Would he really allow the end of the world?”
“Probably,” I said. “When we go bad, we go all the way.”
“And Timothy was always so much more than just a rogue,” said William. “I remember him, though I really wish I didn’t. Not actually a sociopath, as such, but a long way down that road. When he set his mind to something, he wouldn’t let anyone or anything get in his way. He tried to force the Armourer to open the Armageddon Codex for him once, so he could make off with the forbidden weapons. Half killed the old boy in the process. If Timothy hadn’t been interrupted and driven out . . . He has no reason to love this family, or the world, or anything but himself.”
“Janissary Jane once told me about a dimension where demons ran loose in the material plane,” I said. “Hell got out, and slaughtered everything in its path, destroying civilisation after civilisation. Jumping from planet to planet, leaving worlds burning like cinders in the dark, and suns screaming as they died. Jane and the people she was with ended up having to destroy everything, to stop the demons. They used the Deplorable End, and wiped out a whole universe.”