“All good questions,” Skulduggery said, nodding, “and all questions I would love to answer. Unfortunately, we only have time for one answer, and since my question was the first and, let’s be honest, the most important question, I feel that it is the question that deserves an answer. So, your security control room?”

The security guard folded her arms. “Do you have the authority to be there?”

Skulduggery’s false face fixed her with a glare. “Do I have the authority?” he repeated. “Do I have the authority? Tell me, my dear, do I not look like I have the authority? Do I not look like the type of person who goes wherever he sees fit to go? Or do I look like the kind of person who needs permission to do the things that need to be done?”

“Uh,” said the security guard, her arms no longer folded.

Skulduggery loomed over her. “There are things in this world that would turn your hair white. Threats and dangers to your very way of life that would send you shrieking into the corner to tremble and sob. Someone needs to protect the world from these dangers and threats. Is that someone going to be you? Is it? Because if it is, my companions and I will leave, right now, and entrust to you our continued survival. But if you have doubts, if you think you might falter right when you are needed to make the ultimate sacrifice, then tell us now and step back, for saving the world is what we do, and we’re really very good at it.”

The security guard’s lip trembled, and she pointed to a door. “That way,” she said. “Turn left.”

Skulduggery clamped a hand on to her shoulder. “You are doing fine work,” he told her, and led the way to the door. When they were through he walked past the left turn, to a room at the end of the concrete corridor. Inside was a table and two chairs. Ryan reckoned this must be where they kept shoplifters while they waited for the cops to arrive.

“We shouldn’t be bothered in here,” Skulduggery said, closing the door behind them. His false face melted away as he looked at his pocket watch. “Three hours until closing. Make yourselves comfortable.”

He sat at the table and took off his hat. Ryan and Valkyrie remained standing.

“I still don’t understand why they want to destroy the world,” said Ryan. “Foe said he couldn’t see the point of life but, I mean, that’s a really silly reason…”

“They’re bad guys,” Valkyrie told him. “Villains. Some villains have proper plans. Others don’t. They’ve just been around for a few hundred years. Given enough time, a stray thought can become an obsession, and then a purpose. They’re nuts, Ryan. They’re actually insane people who all agree with one another.”