Skulduggery stopped in front of them. He was wearing a different face, and he put his hat on. “I have solved the mystery,” he announced. “Before I take you to where the Doomsday Machine is located, I would like you both to acknowledge how brilliant I am.”

“Uh,” said Ryan, “you’re brilliant.”

“You’re OK,” said Valkyrie.

“That’s good enough for me,” Skulduggery nodded. “Get in the car. We’ve got a world to save.”

SEVEN

They drove into Dundrum Town Centre and parked in the multi-storey. Along the way, Skulduggery had pulled over three times to allow Ryan to pee. If Ryan had wanted Valkyrie to start thinking of him as older and more mature than he was, he knew he was not going about it the right way.

Once the Bentley found a place to park, they got out.

“How did you know it was here?” Valkyrie asked.

Skulduggery checked his façade in the wing mirror, then straightened up. “Simple detective work,” he said. “We’re going to need somewhere quiet to wait until everyone’s gone. We’ll search for the Machine tonight, dismantle it and then it’ll all be over.”

They started walking. “Shouldn’t we call in the Cleavers?” Valkyrie asked. “We’ll find it faster with a hundred people looking for it.”

“I’d prefer to approach this with a little more delicacy,” Skulduggery said. “The three of us should be fine.” He looked at Ryan. “Nervous?”

“A little,” Ryan admitted. “What if Foe and the others are waiting for us?”

“They might pay a visit to the Machine,” Skulduggery conceded, “but they’re not going to be lying in wait. They have no idea that we know it’s here.”

They passed from the car park into the mall. Valkyrie appeared to trust Skulduggery without hesitation, but Ryan was more cautious. Every time someone walked too close, he’d hop away, waiting for their image to flicker and drop, revealing Mercy or Obloquy or Foe. But the people in the mall seemed to be actual people, focused on their conversations or their shopping, and the only time they glanced at Ryan was when he stumbled awkwardly away from them.

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re not very good at acting casual.”

“I forget how,” Ryan confessed, skipping away from a suspicious-looking two-year-old holding a balloon.

Skulduggery and Valkyrie walked up the travelator and Ryan followed, flinching away from an elderly woman with a wrinkled prune-face. They approached a stocky security guard.

“Excuse me, good sir,” Skulduggery began.

The security guard turned to them. “I’m a woman,” she said.

“And a fetching one you are too,” Skulduggery continued, smiling. “Which way to the security control room?”

The security guard frowned. “Why? What business do you have there? Who are you?”