From a Drood to a Kill - Simon R. Green Page 0,165

chopped short electrical cable hung down from the ceiling, jumping and sparking. I was just relieved that the bullets hadn’t found anything explosive or really dangerous yet. It was only a matter of time, though. Whoever our enemies were, they had really powerful weapons. And hiding from them wasn’t getting me anywhere. Now that Molly was safe behind her force shield, it was time for me to show our attackers what a man in Drood armour could really do.

I stepped out from behind the standing machinery, and it seemed like every gun the enemy had opened up on me. I stood there, letting my armour soak up the bullets and hoping I might at last catch a glimpse of who our attackers were, or where they were. I could see muzzle flashes now, from the far end of the Armoury, but they kept changing position. I still couldn’t see the enemy themselves. I concentrated on my armour, forcing a change in it through sheer willpower. My golden gloves became machine guns again. It probably helped that I was in the Armoury now, where such weapons were not only allowed but actively encouraged.

I opened fire, raking the far end of the Armoury with pulverising firepower, blasting apart absolutely everything in front of me. Everything that stood between me and my enemies. Workstations blew up, equipment was blasted apart, and the rest was just blown away in all directions. It still disturbed me to see such familiar sights destroyed, but I hardened my heart and kept firing.

And then an energy beam hit me square in the chest. It came out of nowhere, catching me completely by surprise, almost blasting me off my feet. I fell back several steps, but still kept my balance. The impact had been so great I actually felt it, inside my armour. I looked down, and was relieved to see that my armour had held—but only just. There was a great dent in my golden chest, right over my heart. It slowly straightened itself out. But while I was still gathering my wits about me, another energy beam hit me dead on—and another. My armour rang loudly, like a wounded gong, and great golden ripples spread out across my chest, as though a stone had been thrown into a pool.

I was sent staggering backwards, and very nearly did fall this time. I had to fight to stay on my feet. Whatever this new weapon was, it had to be incredibly powerful to almost breach my armour. So powerful as to be almost unheard of. There shouldn’t have been anything like it in the Armoury. The Droods had never made such a weapon, strong enough to destroy Ethel’s work . . . as far as I knew. A lot goes on down in the Armoury that no one else ever knows about. For the good of the family. I looked up and saw another energy beam heading my way. I seemed to have all the time in the world to watch it coming towards me, and no time at all to evade it. I wondered if this would be the one that killed me.

And then a tall black woman appeared out of nowhere, to stand between me and the energy beam, with her own personal force shield on her arm. The crackling energy field soaked up the energy beam as though it was nothing. And the woman who’d just saved my life turned to smile at me. She was taller than me, Amazonian, with dark coffee skin and close-cropped blonde hair. She wore a tight-fitting white jumpsuit under a long white fur coat, with thigh-high white leather boots. She looked impressive as all hell—but then, she always did.

“Come on, Eddie,” said Honey Lake. “Shape up! You want to live forever?”

We both jumped back behind the tall piece of standing machinery, as more energy beams came howling our way. The tech took a hell of a battering, but stood firm. Perhaps because I had faith in it. I patted it fondly, like a good dog. Molly gave Honey Lake a long, hard look and then gave me an even harder one.

“Who . . . is this?”

“Oh, Eddie,” said Honey, still smiling broadly. “You mean to say you never told her about me? Honey Lake, superspy for the CIA? About the special work we did together, and how close we became, on our shared mission to take down the Independent Agent? That short but action-filled time when we played the great