Ah. It was going to be that kind of conversation. Alan walked over and quietly closed the door himself. ‘Is there a problem, my dear boy?’
‘Don’t even think of calling me that. Not with what you’ve done.’
‘And what do you think I’ve done?’ Did he really know?
‘I know you’re behind it. That you’ve stolen that child …’ Noel was practically choking in his rage.
Alan could deny it, of course. Noel couldn’t have any proof. But maybe – maybe this was the right path forward. For days, Alan had felt as if he were stumbling through a dark wood, but now, there was a smooth road ahead of him, well-lit, begging for a run. All he had to do was tell the truth, and then events would unfold as they must.
He was curious, though. ‘How did you know?’
‘That doesn’t matter. You admit it, then? You kidnapped Gloriana’s child?’
‘She’s perfectly safe, I promise you. We can just go and get her, bring her back. You and I, together.’ Alan stood up straighter; he felt as if he might grow wings.
Noel snapped, ‘But why, Turing? Tell me that, before I rip it out of you.’
Alan spread out his hands in supplication. Noel would understand, surely. ‘You don’t need to rip anything. It was Richard; he was going to act no matter what I said. I had to try to contain the damage.’
Noel snarled. ‘Oh – I should have seen it. Oh, damn it, you know what this means?’
‘What?’ Why was Noel so furious?
‘I can’t bring in any other aces on this. No one else can know, or even guess, that Richard was involved. If they know that you had anything to do with it, they’d trace that line straight back to Richard.’
Alan frowned. ‘Why? I work for the Silver Helix, after all.’
‘Oh, Alan, you cunt. Everyone knows you’ve been fucking Richard. Did you really think you could keep that a secret?’
Well, apparently Alan had miscalculated. Of course, everyone didn’t mean Sebastian – Noel meant everyone in the Silver Helix, surely. Perhaps Alan and Richard hadn’t been quite discreet enough at work. It was a good thing that was all over.
Alan flushed. ‘Ah. Well, then yes, we probably shouldn’t bring in the others. But it’ll be all right – I can call off my men …’
‘Call them off? We can’t leave them alive, you idiot.’
Alan’s heart sped up. ‘What? You can’t kill them! They’re just following orders – three of them don’t even know what they’re guarding.’
Noel spoke slowly. ‘If they reveal that you’re behind this, that leads to Richard, and then the whole fucking country’s in flames, isn’t it? That’s the nightmare you’d be consigning us to. So I’m going to have to kill all of them, to be sure they keep their mouths shut, and that’s your damned fault too. Thanks for that!’
Dammit, dammit, dammit. Noel was right, was right about all of it. Alan’s head felt as if it were going to explode. How had he miscalculated so badly? Davies had served him faithfully, and he didn’t even know the names of the other men.
‘I see,’ Alan said, his voice gone weak and hollow. ‘I guess it’s up to us then.’
Noel snapped, ‘Let’s go. Now!’
It was another mobile phone, lying among the bags of woodchips as though it had dropped out of the sky. Sebastian pretended not to see it. He knew by now that if he so much as looked at it, it would ring and one of a number of voices on the other end would tell him things. Awful, awful things.
Or it might just be a recording, like the time he’d been treated to the sound of his own husband, gasping that way he had the first time Sebastian had taken him in his mouth. And then, the unmistakable breathless voice of the Prince. ‘You don’t get that at home, I’ll wager!’
‘You would,’ Sebastian whispered. ‘You could.’ But it was more anger than self-pity that ground his teeth together.
‘I hate him,’ he whispered. Nobody heard him but for a nearby crow. Who else could he talk to about the issue that stole his sleep?
Then, the phone rang and he jumped, dropping the tray of cuttings, spraying compost over the plastic bags of wood chippings.
It kept ringing and ringing. As always, he tried to resist its lure, its promise of nothing but more pain. As always, his hand, of its own accord, brought it to his ear.
This time, the voice on the other end was old enough that it might have belonged to death herself. ‘Richard,’ it said, ‘likes tea. The fancier the better. Considers himself a connoisseur.’
‘How …?’ Sebastian swallowed. The voice sent a shiver throughout his whole body. He wasn’t sure he could bear to finish his question and have her respond to him.
The woman, that ancient woman, spoke anyway.
‘He’s not just a vigorous lover. He’s a prince too. People give him gifts all the time. You … could give him one.’
Sebastian swallowed. Terrified.
‘What … what do you mean?’ But he already knew and she was gone anyway.
Badb leaned against the ivy-covered wall and waited for Turing’s Jaguar to screech to a halt right in front of her. She had been watching through the eyes of a crow in London, even as her own body was on its way here, bouncing around in the back of a van, while the driver cursed in Serbian.
Noel and Turing had climbed into the car. Why only the two of them? Badb had hoped that with a Princess at risk, the full might of the Silver Helix would descend on the kidnappers. Bullets would fly and in the chaos, royal blood might be shed and who knew how many precious aces would lie staring at the sky when all was done?
Nor was that the only puzzle. Because although Badb had watched Noel get into the car in London and had flown behind it all the way, when it arrived here in Oxfordshire, it was a stranger who sat in the passenger seat: a young man over six foot tall with the face of a magnificent warrior, perfectly, mathematically symmetrical.
His piercing eyes fixed her. They were the colour of burnished gold.
‘You!’ he said, as if he knew her. And of course, he did. The newcomer’s arm was in a cast, just as Noel’s had been. His mannerisms were identical and he bore the same tiny scar above the left eyebrow. Noel was an ace, after all. He must be able to alter his shape, to become this perfect specimen of youth.
Fascinating.
‘What …’ Turing began. ‘I mean, who is this?’
She could see herself through a bird’s eyes. Layer upon layer of sticky bandages, oozing gently beneath a face of wrinkles and sagging, flapping skin. Turing was getting the smell now, too. He was edging away from her, probably not even aware he was doing so. ‘I am Finder,’ she told him. ‘I found the Princess. I will be of great use inside. I can take you to her.’ She stared at Turing with her own body’s eyes, seeing the strain in his every movement. ‘If you want her to be found.’
‘Of course he does,’ drawled Noel. He was checking various pockets for weapons, but he never took his eyes off her. ‘It appears we can’t stop you following. But this is a question of national security, now. We will not coddle you.’
Badb inclined her head. She barely had the strength to raise it again.
He turned his attention to Turing. ‘I take it you are familiar with the layout?’ She recognized the sarcasm. ‘Then, lead the way.’
The mud squelched beneath his shoes as Noel moved forward towards the Grecian pavilion. It was a ridiculous affectation on the grounds of the old mansion. How typical that Turing would have picked a place where he had worked during the war. All these old men still trying to live in the past from Henry to Flint to Turing. And fucking it up for the rest of us, Noel thought. The cast was cutting painfully into his avatar’s more muscular arm.
Around him snowdrops covered the ground, their blossoms drooping like white bells. He took cover in the shadow of a large Scots pine and studied the situation. The folly had seen better days. Dark stains marred the white marble, and the steps leading up to the interior were cracked. One guard stood in the centre of the pavilion, rifle cradled in his arms. The
other was outside walking a slow circuit around the structure. Noel had not anticipated the men being in such close proximity to each other. It would make things harder. He noted the wires running from earpieces and the throat mics, and rejected using the garrotte. Noel pulled the pistol from his shoulder holster and screwed on a silencer. Despite what one saw in the movies silencers weren’t all that quiet. Still, it would be quieter than the sound of a man being choked to death.
Sucking in a quick breath, Noel teleported behind the man in the pavilion and shot him in the back of the head. Another quick jump to the second guard. Unfortunately he was turning in reaction to the pop of displaced air and the muffled gunshot. Noel’s first shot sheared away his lower jaw. It took a second one to the temple to finish him. He then teleported back to where Turing and the old woman waited.
‘Okay, the way is clear. Now we go in the front door. You said there’s one guard at the base of the stairs?’ Noel asked.
Turing gave a jerking head nod. ‘Yes.’
‘Presumably he knows you?’ Another tense nod. ‘Good. Then toddle on down there, and kill him.’
Noel pounded down the stairs at the sound of a gunshot, a yell of pain and running footsteps. Clearly the plan had not survived contact with the enemy.
‘Damned bird wrecked my aim,’ Turing panted. Noel put it down to more nerves than exertion. Whatever the cause, they were royally buggered now.
‘What’s it like further in?’ Noel asked.
‘Cluttered … To put it mildly.’
‘Well, let’s go play hide-and-seek.’ He turned to tell the old Irish woman to stay back, only to find her gone. Well, bugger it all, she was on her own. If she got hurt that was her lookout.
Badb allowed the men to get ahead of her, disappearing into the chaos of cabinets and old equipment. There was a quicker way to the back of the bunker if you were skeletally thin and careless of damage to your body. The goddess eased herself onto the damp floor. The builders had put pipes between the rooms, for wiring perhaps, or sewage. Only rats lived here now in the perfect darkness. They fled as she slithered her way through, her rasping breath echoing ahead of her.
But halfway along, with the pipe sloping downwards, a hidden hook of rusted metal stabbed through the soft flesh of her shoulder and pinned her there, too weak to lift herself free.
She called for a crow.
The metal wouldn’t give under its beak, leaving her no choice but to have the creature worry at the flesh around it until, all of a sudden, gravity tore her free and sent her slithering down to the end.
Most satisfactory.
She sent the crow on ahead. Yes. This was the place. A stench of dust and damp. Three rooms away, bunk beds rusted amid piles of tea chests, rolls of wire, headsets and bizarre-looking typewriters. That’s where the last guard waited, alone but for the Princess.
The girl was asleep. And no wonder! Her hulking captor was only now putting down a bottle of chloroform. He began throwing feminine clothing into a bag. No doubt, he was planning to get her out of here before the shooting got any closer.
The goddess moved towards him with perfect concentration, never once stepping on broken glass or giving in to the many weaknesses of her body. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. The trip through the pipe had exhausted her. And indeed, by the time she stood at his back, she had barely enough energy to slide a knife between the vertebrae on his lower spine.
He flopped to the ground, a monstrous whining fish. But still dangerous. He might cry out at any moment. Those arms of his could crush her and she was not sure that if she bent over to finish him off, she would ever be able to rise again.
How inconvenient.
Drawing his gun Noel moved through the bunker. The lighting was dim. Many of the ceiling sockets gaped like blinded eyes. The stacked desks, chairs, old-style computers, boxes spilling papers and rusting filing cabinets were shadows in the gloom. There were pathways between the mess like the plastic tubes that had adorned the terrarium housing Jasper’s pet hamster.
Noel had a sudden flash of Jasper’s face when he’d brought the creature home to the Manhattan apartment. Jasper had named him Jetboy, except Jetboy had turned out to be Jetgirl and bestowed upon them three babies, so Jetboy had become Bubbles. The ache in Noel’s chest was no longer due just to his cracked ribs.
And then it hit him … Bugger it all, the court hearing! He’d completely forgotten. Forgotten to tell Judith and have her ask for a delay. This could kill his chances.
On the other hand distraction would most certainly kill him. He shook off the memories and the worry – he had to hope that his service to Henry would smooth out the problem. Noel motioned to Turing to go right while he went left.
In this environment his ace power was virtually useless. He would move a few steps then hold his breath and listen. Eventually he was rewarded with the soft ring of metal against metal. Apparently one of the guard’s keys was clipped to his belt. It marked him as either a rookie, or a man too confident in his own skills. Which could be said of you, Noel warned himself.
He needed to draw the man to him, but first he had to find a spot where he could arrange an ambush. A few more turns and he spotted some stacked furniture that culminated in a large metal table. Reaching up, he gave the leg an experimental shake. It seemed solid. He then nudged another desk loaded with old computer tape. The rolls slithered to the floor with a sighing hiss. A few seconds later he heard slow footfalls.
A blink of his power and he stood on top of the table. It shifted a bit under his weight, and there was a short rasp of metal on metal. A few seconds later the guard came around the corner of some stacked boxes. Noel froze, held his breath. The man crept past him. Noel leaned down and shot him in the top of the head, then gave an involuntary yell of alarm as the body fell against the stack of furniture, sending his perch toppling. He teleported to an open area, but when he reappeared several boxes had decided to occupy the same space. He lost his footing and fell hard onto his back, losing his grip on his pistol.
The final guard came into view. Time seemed to dilate. Noel watched the knuckle on the man’s trigger finger whiten as he began to squeeze. He pictured his flat but before he could teleport the man’s face exploded into gore and bits of bone.
Noel cranked his head around towards Turing. ‘Nice shot.’
‘You’re welcome.’
In the end, she opened the bottle of chloroform and knocked it on its side so that its contents poured down over the guard’s face. He swallowed twice before realizing the danger, but already it was too late. Then, holding her breath, she hobbled to the bunk where the Princess slept.
A quick slice of the throat, Badb thought. That would do it. Then she would drop the knife beside the guard’s right hand. Henry would be enraged … She sat on the thin mattress, her old hands shaking with the effort. She paused.
Perhaps she had a better idea.
Surely, the kidnapping was already extreme enough to bring the princes into conflict. But the goddess wanted to build for the future too – a war that would never end. So, instead of the throat, she plunged her knife into the girl’s cheek, twisting it to make as cruel-looking a scar as possible.
Yes, yes, most satisfactory. Never again could this girl appear in public without reminding Henry’s supporters of the need for revenge.
She would make sure the King found out. And the people too. Using her phone, she snapped a photo just as she heard two shots from just around the corner. The would-be rescuers were already here.
‘Help!’ cried Badb. Hurriedly, she dropped the knife down beside the guard. ‘Help us!’ She put as much panic into her voice as she could. ‘I think … I think he killed her!’
Noel staggered a bit as he landed on the soft turf of Green Park. Carrying three people even for the few seconds it took for him to translate through space had left his arm and ribs grinding with pain. And they had barely beaten the setting sun.
He released Turing and Finder. The st
ink of corrupting flesh off the old woman had him fighting down nausea. Turing had made a makeshift bandage of his handkerchief, securing it against the deep cut on Sissel’s cheek with his tie. It was soaked through with her blood. Just like the bandages that covered Finder’s hands and throat. Noel’s leather jacket was streaked with both sets of gore.
No time to clean it off. He had to get the child into the hands of the palace physician and the arms of her mother. He took the little girl out of Turing’s arms, leaned in close and hissed, ‘You don’t get to play the hero after orchestrating this entire damned mess.’
‘That’s fair,’ the old man said softly. ‘But I see you’re not above playing it yourself. Must be an odd role for you.’ Spite coiled around the final words. Noel resisted the impulse to punch that metallic face. Sweat had streaked Turing’s make-up.
Noel paused briefly to look down at Finder. The old woman had collapsed onto the grass. The first time teleporting was always disorienting.
‘Thank you for your help. I’d like to know more about your visions, but it can keep.’
Bones shifted, and his clothing sagged as Simon vanished with the setting sun. Noel crossed Constitution Hill, located a gate and a guard and was rushed inside.
A torrent of people surrounded him. Gloriana snatched her daughter from his arms. She was crying but her face held the cold and ancient rage of one of the Furies. Noel reflected that the men who had guarded the girl should be glad they had died so gently.
Faintness washed over him and Noel leaned against a wall. A hand clasped his shoulder. It was the King. ‘Well done. Knew you were the man for the job. Once Sissel is cared for we’ll be leaving for Windsor. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Yes, sir.’
How had everything gone so wrong? Alan Turing wasn’t a man who cried. He was physically capable of tears, but had left them behind in childhood, along with playground taunts of poof! He’d learned to keep his emotions inside, where they belonged. But now tears stood in his eyes. He dashed them away angrily once Noel had deposited him in Green Park and taken Sissel to the Palace.
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