villain is a young man’s game. I carried on longer than I should have, for pride’s sake, but eventually . . . even legends grow old, and slow. I gave up the name and the legend while they were still something I could be proud of. For many years now, I have served my country quietly as an accredited member of the French Embassy staff, here in London. Nothing like being an old thief to help guard against young thieves. And there is nothing like knowing where all the bodies are buried to make you a player in the diplomatic game.
“And I was happy, monsieur Drood. Happy! Content to be a respected elder statesman, whose opinion was still sought and valued. And then this Big Ear of yours ruined everything! This new device that sees everything, hears everything. I could not allow myself to be found out, to have my past revealed. There is no forgiving some of my old sins. My friends and colleagues would disown me, my old enemies would come after me for retribution! I had no choice but to come here and destroy your precious Big Ear before it could destroy me. I had retired, damn you! I was no threat to anyone! Why couldn’t you just leave me in peace?”
“The Big Ear knows everything,” I said carefully. “But why should you feel singled out? Why would they care about you?”
“Because I am the Fantom! I was the nightmare they could not wake up from! Never captured, never interrogated! Of course they would come after me, after all the things I did!”
“No one’s so vain as an old spy and villain,” I said.
“Perhaps, monsieur Drood. But I could not take the chance. The Big Ear must be destroyed.”
“You’re a myth,” I said. “A piece of espionage history. A story in old books. You should have stayed that way.”
He looked at his domino-masked reflection in my golden mask, and some of the strength seemed to leave him. Suddenly he looked . . . like an old man playing dress-up.
“You’re right,” he said. “I should never have come here. Just let me go, monsieur Drood. I will leave here, leave England, disappear. No one will ever see me again.”
“I would like to,” I said. “But I’m afraid that isn’t possible.”
“Why not?”
“How many people did you kill to get this far?”
He shrugged angrily. “I don’t know. As many as I needed to. They were just soldiers! Just . . . functionaries. They don’t matter!”
“People always matter,” I said.
“You have killed people, have you not, Eddie Drood?” the Fantom said coldly. “People who had to die? People who needed killing!”
“Sometimes,” I said. “When I had no other choice. But always for a greater cause. Never to protect my own interests.”
“You’re so like your uncle,” said the Fantom. “Just another self-righteous Drood.”
He swirled his long opera cloak about him, and just like that he was gone. I couldn’t see him anywhere, even through my mask’s filters. I stood very still, listening, in case he did the sensible thing and made a run for it. But there was no sound of rapidly departing feet, so I boosted my hearing through the mask, holding my breath so I could concentrate on the smallest sounds in the corridor. I heard him breathing, heard the rasp and rustle of his clothes as he moved, heard every faint footstep as he advanced on me. I let him come, knowing he had that very sharp blade in his hand, trusting to my armour to protect me against even that awful weapon.
The knife came slamming into my side out of nowhere and skidded harmlessly across my armoured ribs in a shower of sparks. I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding and clamped down on where I knew his arm had to be. The Fantom cried out despite himself as my armoured hand crushed his arm. I took the knife away from him and snapped the blade in two. The broken pieces appeared in mid-air, falling to the floor. I grabbed the Fantom’s cloak and hauled it off him, and he appeared before me, glaring sullenly through his black domino mask, cradling his hurt arm. I let the cloak fall to the floor.
“Go on, then, Drood!” the Fantom said defiantly. “Kill me! Do what your legendary uncle could not, and prove yourself a man!”
“No,” I said. “I don’t do that any more.”
There was the sound of a gunshot. The bullet hit the Fantom in the