“Damned fool. Always was inflexible. He really did think he’d been given his power by God himself, to indulge his prejudices and paranoias. I suppose learning I was his puppet master, and had been all along, was just too much to bear. Such a come-down from God. It doesn’t matter. I’d have had to replace him soon anyway. He was having delusions of independence. Still, I can always find another fool.”
“I don’t understand,” said Bettie. “You’re the Editor? You’ve always been the Editor? And…the Removal Man was your creature all along? Why?”
“Dear Bettie,” du Rois said indulgently. “Always a reporter, always asking the right questions. Yes, my dear, I am your Editor and always have been. The Inquirer is mine, and mine alone, and has been for over a hundred years. And in that time I have created many Removal Men to serve my needs. They don’t tend to last long. Such small, blinkered, black-and-white attitudes don’t tend to survive long when faced with the ever-shifting greys of the Nightside. They burn out. But there’s always someone who thinks they know better than everyone else, just itching for a chance to remake the world in their own limited image…”
“Why create them?” I said. “I don’t see why the Editor of the Unnatural Inquirer should give much of a damn about the morality of the Nightside.”
“Quite right, Mr. Taylor. I don’t give a damn. Except for when it makes good copy. Reporting and condemning the sins and shames of the Nightside has filled the pages of my paper for generations. But one lifetime wasn’t enough for me. I wanted more. There was still so much left to see, and know, and do. So I found a way. You can always find a way in the Nightside, even if some of them aren’t very nice. When one of my Removal Men removes a thing, or a person, all their potential energy, from all the things they might have done, is left up for grabs; and it all comes to me. Those energies have kept me going long after I should have left this world, and made me very powerful indeed.”
“You’re the one who shut down my gift!” I said.
“Yes,” du Rois said calmly. “It was necessary to neuter you, so you wouldn’t find Pen Donavon too quickly. I needed time for rumours about the Afterlife Recording to spread, and grow, and fascinate the minds of my readers. Bringing you in guaranteed that people would pay attention. After all, if you were involved, it must be important. By the time my Sunday edition comes out, with my giveaway DVD, people will be fighting for copies of my paper. And all because of you…”
“Sales?” I said. “This has all been about sales?”
“Of course. I don’t think you appreciate exactly how much money I stand to make out of this, Mr. Taylor.”
“Why are you here?” Bettie said suddenly. “Why reveal the truth about yourself now, to us?”
Du Rois smiled on her almost fondly. “Still asking the right questions, Bettie, like the fine reporter you are. A pity you’ll never get to write this story. Sorry, my dear, but I am here to protect my interests, and my paper’s. And your story, of the truth behind the Afterlife Recording, can never be allowed to see print. I report the news; I have no wish to be part of it.”
“You want the DVD?” I said. I took it out of my coat-pocket and threw it at him. “Have it. Damn thing’s just a fake anyway.”
He made no attempt to catch the disc, letting it fall to clatter on the stage before him. “Real or fake, it doesn’t matter. I can still sell it, thanks to your involvement. You really have been very helpful to me, Mr. Taylor, spreading the story and stirring up interest, but that’s all over now. I have my story. And since every story needs a good ending…what better way to convince everyone of the DVD’s importance than that you should be killed, acquiring it for me? Nothing like a famous corpse to add spice to a story.” He looked at Bettie. “I’m afraid you have to die, too, my dear. Can’t have anyone hanging around to contradict the story I’m going to sell people.”
“But…I’m one of your people!” said Bettie. “I work for the Inquirer!”
“I have lots of reporters. I can always get more. Now hush, dear. Your voice really is very wearing…Don’t move, Mr. Taylor. I’ve already taken the precaution of shutting down your gift again, just in case you were thinking of using it on me. And you don’t have anything else powerful enough to stop me.”
“Want to bet?” I said. And I took out of my coat-pocket the Aquarius Key. I activated the small metal box, and it opened up, unfolding and blossoming like a steel flower. A great rip appeared in reality, right in front of Gaylord du Rois. He only had time to scream once before the void swallowed him, then he was gone. I hung on grimly to Bettie as the void pulled us forward, then I shut the Aquarius Key down again, and that was that.
It was suddenly very quiet in the empty club. Bettie looked at me with huge eyes.
“I really should have handed the Key over to Walker, after that nasty business at Fun Faire,” I said. “But I had a feeling it might come in handy.”
“You’ve had that all along?” said Bettie. “Why didn’t you use it before?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t need it before.”
She hit me.
EPILOGUE
I phoned Walker and arranged to meet him at the Londinium Club. Now that I’d used the Aquarius Key, Walker was bound to know I had it. And he’d want it. I could have hung on to the Key if I’d been ready to make a big thing out of it, but I wasn’t. The Aquarius Key gave me the creeps. Some things you know are bad news for all concerned. They’re just too…tempting. So back to the Londinium Club Bettie and I went. Plenty of time yet to take the damned DVD to the offices of the Unnatural Inquirer. Where Scoop Malloy would have to decide what to do with it, and the news that his paper no longer had an Editor.
“But how would Walker know you’ve got the Key?” said Bettie, skipping merrily along beside me. She was back in her polka-dot dress and big floppy hat look.
“Walker knows everything,” I said. “Or at least, everything he needs to know.”
“I still can’t get over my Editor being the Bad Guy in all this. I wonder who’ll replace him at the Inquirer?”
“Scoop Malloy?”
“Oh, please! I don’t think so!” Bettie pulled a disparaging face that still somehow managed to look attractive on her. “Scoop’s only Sub-Editor material, and he knows it. No; the new owner will have to bring in someone new, from outside. But you know what? I don’t care! Because for the first time in my career I have a real story to write! The truth behind Gaylord du Rois, the Removal Men, and the Afterlife Recording. Real news…which means I’m a real reporter at last! Right?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “The Inquirer might make you the new Editor on the strength of it.”
“Oh, poo! I’m not wasting a real story on the Inquirer!” Bettie said indignantly. “Far too good for them. No; I’m going to sell it to Julien Advent at the Night Times; in return for a job on his paper. A real reporter on a real newspaper! I’m going up in the world! Mummy will be so pleased…”
“What about your other story?” I said. “A day in the company of the infamous John Taylor?”
Bettie smiled and hooked her arm familiarly through mine. “Let someone else write it.”
We came at last to the Londinium Club, and Bettie and I stopped at the foot of the steps to stare at the black iron railings surrounding the club. Impaled on the iron spikes were three recently severed heads. Queen Helena, Uptown Taffy Lewis, and General Condor. Helena looked as though she was still screaming. Taffy looked sullen. And the General…had a look of sad resignation, as though he’d known all along it would come to this. I’m sure enough people warned him. The Nightside does so love to break a hero.