Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny

mysterious ways than half the Beings on the Street of the Gods, it might just be you. Walker was infamous for knowing things he shouldn’t and doing something horribly punitive about it— pour discourager les autres.
    And whatever he does, no-one ever protests. Because he’s Walker.
    But there’s always one, isn’t there? Someone always has to learn the hard way. In this case, it was one of Black Betty’s overmuscled goons. She always had half a dozen or so on a leash in case she met a customer. This particular goon decided he was going to impress his mistress, so he stepped forward to face Walker, flexing his steroid-abused muscles in what he clearly thought was a threatening way. Walker considered him thoughtfully. A wise man would have taken the hint and run, but not the goon.
    “You’re upsetting my mistress, little man,” said the goon. “Disappear.”
    Walker smiled, just a little. “Shit yourself.”
    He used the Voice, which commands everyone who hears it, and the goon made a sudden low sound of distress. Quickly accompanied by other, less pleasant sounds. Black Betty pulled a face and dropped his leash. The goon turned away from Walker, slowly and carefully, and trudged miserably off to the toilets. People he passed by wished he hadn’t. The bar as a whole decided the safest thing to do was act as if Walker wasn’t there. Heads turned away, conversations resumed, and the piped music returned. I noticed the bar’s muscular bouncers, Betty and Lucy Coltrane, lurking in the background, ready to give their all at a moment’s notice; but Alex had more sense. He gave Walker his best glare, then busied himself polishing some glasses that didn’t need polishing.
    Walker looked unhurriedly about him, taking his time. No-one was fooled by his calm exterior. Walker was always dangerous, even when he was being polite. Perhaps especially then. And, of course, in the end he spotted me, walked over to my booth, and smiled charmingly.
    “Hello, John. Can I have a word? It is rather urgent.”
    “You’ve got a nerve,” I said. “Just a few hours ago you were doing your best to have me killed.”
    “It’s what I do,” said Walker. “Nothing personal, John. You should know that by now.”
    “I’ve already taken a case,” I said. “Find someone else to do your dirty work.”
    “This isn’t about work. This is personal.”
    I sighed. Clearly I wasn’t going to get rid of Walker until I’d listened to what he had to say. I looked at Larry, spreading my hands in a What can you do? gesture.
    “You go on ahead. I’ll join up with you outside the Cheyne Walk Underground Station, as soon as I can. That’s the last place I saw Tommy alive.”
    Larry nodded and rose to his feet, then looked at Walker challengingly. “I’m Larry Oblivion. Do you have anything to say to me?”
    Walker looked at him thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. Not for the moment.”
    “Don’t think you can intimidate me, Walker. I’m dead.”
    Walker smiled. “You, of all people, should know that death isn’t the worst thing that can happen. When I want you, I’ll come for you.”
    Larry turned his back on Walker and strode out of the bar, his back straight and his head held high. And perhaps only Walker and I knew he was running away. Which is often the best way to deal with Walker. Just head for the nearest horizon the moment you spot him. I gestured resignedly to the empty seat, and Walker sat down opposite me, his every movement elegance and grace personified. He stood his umbrella on end beside his chair, took off his bowler hat and placed it carefully on the table before him, and casually adjusted his old-school tie. In anyone else these would have been mere habitual gestures; but Walker was quietly reminding me where his authority came from. Walker wasn’t part of the System; he was the System.
    “Would you care for a drink?” I said, gesturing at the Valhalla Venom with malice aforethought.
    Walker studied the bottle without touching it and raised an eyebrow briefly. “Ah, yes ... I wondered what had become of that. The steward at my club tried to persuade me to try some, but I had more sense. That stuff could eat holes in your kirlian aura. But you go right ahead, John. Don’t let me put you off.”
    I pushed the bottle and glass to one side. “What do you want, Walker?”
    He sighed slightly, as though disappointed by my lack of subtlety. “I understand you’ve learned my little secret, John. Yes;