Nightside 10 - The Good the Bad and the Uncanny

Walker? I don’t want your job! I don’t want it, don’t need it, and I wouldn’t be any good at it if I did. Let the new Authorities choose your successor.”
    “You’d trust them to do that?”
    “More than I trust you,” I said.
    He smiled again. “Very good, John. You’re learning.”
    “I’m not going any further. I have a case, remember? And you know something about Tommy Oblivion. Tell me what it is.”
    “All right,” said Walker. “It was Mark. The Collector has finally lost it. He’s moved on from collecting things to collecting people. Famous, important, or interesting people; they’re all trophies to him now. Find his current lair, wherever it is, and there you’ll find Tommy Oblivion; and all the other missing people. But be careful, John. I can’t speak for Mark’s state of mind any more. Best of luck. Talk to you again later.”
    He walked away, not at all tired or troubled, swinging his furled umbrella in a cheerful but dignified way. I watched him go, considering all the things he’d said and all the things he hadn’t. First, and most obvious, he didn’t know where the Collector was hiding himself these days, or he would have told me. Which was ... unusual. Where could the Collector have buried himself and his extensive collection that even Walker’s people couldn’t locate him? And second, why had Walker felt the need to bargain with me, trading his private knowledge for a walk in the Nightside? All right, the man was dying, and time was running out; but I’d never known Walker to deal from anything save a position of strength.
    But that would have to wait. I had a case. I’d given my word. I had to find the Collector. I winced as an image of Tommy filled my head, pinned to a giant display card, like a captured butterfly.
    Walker and the Collector had worked together, along with my father, during the Lilith War. The Collector had seemed to be improving then; less obviously crazy. What had happened since, to drive him over the edge? And why would Walker want me to lower the boom on the Collector, after tolerating his old friend’s nefarious exploits for so many years? Unless ... Could this be connected to the new time-travel apparatus the Collector had stolen? The one that could transfer his consciousness into another body ... Such a device would make the perfect escape route, so that the Collector could never be captured or punished, no matter what he did ... Walker couldn’t allow that.
    So maybe he wanted me to take down the Collector because, while it had to be done, he couldn’t do it himself. Not to the one man who might be his only remaining friend.
    That was the trouble with hanging around with Walker. You ended up thinking like him.

EIGHT
    I’m Here, Mark
    It was raining, a harsh, persistent drizzle, like the tears of some passing god. Just enough to make the night even more miserable. Pools and puddles everywhere, and even more splashed up across the pavements by passing traffic. I hunched my shoulders against the rain and looked around me. It didn’t take me long to realise that Walker had walked me round in a circle. I was right back at the Cheyne Walk approach. Larry Oblivion was standing right where I’d left him. Some people just can’t be left to get on with things on their own. I strode down the street and hailed him by name, and he looked round, startled.
    “Taylor? I thought you were going walkabout with Walker?”
    “I did,” I said. “We’ve been all over the Nightside. Why are you still here?”
    He looked at me oddly. “You’ve only been gone a few moments.”
    Of course. Typical of Walker, to have the last word when he wasn’t even there. I hadn’t known his personal Timeslip could play tricks with Time as well as Space, but it did explain a lot.
    “Walker,” I said heavily to Larry, and he nodded. Sometimes that name is all the explanation you need.
    “What did he tell you about Tommy?” said Larry, straight to the point as always.
    “Apparently the Collector’s got him,” I said. “The man has gone totally loop the loop, and has taken up collecting people instead of things.”
    “Why the hell would he want Tommy?” said Larry, honestly baffled. “Nobody wants Tommy. I wouldn’t if he wasn’t my brother.”
    “Because of his special gift?” I said. “The Collector has always had a weakness for unique items.”
    “If the Collector is holding Tommy against his will, then we go where he is and take Tommy away from