Three Kings

by George R. R. Martin

  ‘Yes,’ Bobbin replied, but he kept staring off into space while tapping his spoon on the table.

  ‘Stop that, please,’ Constance said tightly.

  ‘Stop what?’ Bobbin asked.

  ‘Spoon.’

  ‘Spoon?’

  ‘Stop tapping the …’ She caught herself. It wasn’t Bobbin or the tapping of the spoon. It was what they were doing.

  ‘I can’t go, Constance,’ Bobbin said, shaking his head.

  ‘I know,’ she replied with a smile. ‘Neither can I. There’s too much at stake. Too many things going wrong. I’d feel like …’

  ‘Like you’d run from the fight just when you were most needed?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. He understood her so well. No, they understood each other so well.

  ‘Well then,’ he said, sharing in her sudden conviction. ‘We need to go and fight the good fight. Yes?’

  ‘The more I thought about leaving …’

  ‘Yes, my dear. Yes.’

  ‘So, where to now?’ Constance asked as they began gathering their things.

  ‘We could go back to the Green Man. Try to help,’ Bobbin said. ‘Wouldn’t be the worst person to join up with …’

  Constance thought it over. Noel would be furious if he found out they hadn’t left the country.

  ‘If you think we should join up with him, then we will,’ she said. ‘It’s mad, long odds, joining up with shady sorts. What could possibly go wrong?’

  Noel’s removal from the Helix had been so abrupt that they had thus far neglected to strip him of his identification. That oversight had allowed him to request information from Scotland Yard.

  He was in the busy computer centre where reports from all across Britain were received and processed and decisions were made about whether to send a Met officer to assist in a local crime. It was late evening, and Noel wondered how quickly Henry might have set his murderous plan in motion. He would soon find out.

  The young woman police officer working at the computer pulled the paper from the printer next to her desk and handed it over. ‘Here you are, Director, every reported murder of male jokers born in 1948.’

  Noel scanned the list. It wasn’t that long, five men, but it was suggestive and he couldn’t risk waiting longer to have suggestion become certainty with the proof being the bodies of old men.

  He thanked the officer and left. He just hoped it would be enough.

  It was finally time.

  Green Man moved to the window and opened it. The room looked out onto part of Windsor Castle’s gardens and surrounding grounds, tastefully lit so that the paths were still safe to walk at night.

  Somewhere out there his people would be waiting. He left the window open as arranged, and five minutes later lowered a rope. Shortly after that, he felt the rope jerk in his hand – three sharp tugs, the agreed signal – and began to pull.

  The room gradually filled with jokers and knaves. One after another they arrived through the window, each wearing night goggles. Peggy, grinning, a cricket bat in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other; Seizer, also armed; Blue Jeans, metal eyes wild with excitement; Jamila, looking oddly childlike as she clutched her gun to her chest; and Maven, in military black, a sniper rifle on her back, and Lord knows how many other devices of death strapped to her body or kept in special pockets.

  She handed him a pair of goggles and he put them on, turning the world green and black. The others looked strangely ghoulish rendered in this way but at least he could see clearly. ‘Remember,’ whispered Green Man. ‘We’re here to kill Henry, no one else. If others have to die, so be it, but it will be our failing if that’s the case.’

  Jamila nodded, as did Blue Jeans. The others didn’t.

  Maven confirmed where they were in the castle. She also confirmed that Henry was still in residence, and, as luck would have it, that his room was not far from their current location.

  The castle was quiet, all sane and decent people having long since gone to their beds. Of course, there were guards on night watch, but much of the security was deployed to stop people getting in, rather than to stop people who were already inside.

  They arrived at Henry’s door without incident. Two men stood guard outside. Neither was particularly big or scary but given that they could be Silver Helix, that wasn’t very encouraging.

  Green Man signalled Maven and Peggy to deal with them. The plan was to silence them quickly, but if the men put up a fight or turned out to be superhuman, the others would slow them down while he went in and dealt with Henry. There was an escape plan for afterwards, though none of them besides Seizer was very confident of it being necessary.

  Maven lined up a shot, and a moment later a dart appeared in the neck of one of the men. Even as he was putting a hand up in surprise, Peggy was moving. One moment she was at Green Man’s side, the next she was sliding to a stop in front of the second guard, her cricket bat held horizontal in two hands and pressed against his neck, pinning him to the wall. His gasp was choked off, and a minute later, both men were unconscious.

  No alarms had sounded. The castle remained quiet. So far, so good.

  While Blue Jeans and Jamila moved the guards out of sight, Green Man started towards the bedroom, Seizer matching him step for step.

  ‘I want to be the one to finish Henry,’ Seizer was trying to whisper. It didn’t come naturally. Green Man frowned at both the sentiment and volume, making his night goggles bob. ‘It’s fitting,’ added Seizer, ‘one king being killed by another.’

  Green Man wanted to argue but he didn’t dare. Idle talk really could cost lives in this case. Seizer seemed to be under the impression that being a prince gave him the right to murder people, whereas to Green Man, the opposite was true. There was no time to get into an argument here however so, under his breath, he replied: ‘Fine.’

  The night goggles picked out Henry in his bed, asleep. Even from this distance and rendered in green, there was no mistaking him. Seizer advanced across the room, sacrificing stealth for speed. Green Man closed the door behind them, wincing with every creak of the floor. Surely Henry will hear and wake up. It will only take one scream …

  But by the time Henry was starting to stir, Seizer already had a hand at his throat. ‘Hello, Your Majesty,’ he said far too loudly. ‘I’m afraid you won’t be able to make the coronation after all.’ He pressed the index finger of his other hand against Henry’s forehead and began to push. Apart from a habit of making and then shedding very crusty skin, Seizer’s wild card had given him the ability to sever organic material by touch. He could, quite literally, unzip a person by running a hand across their body, or he could bore a hole through their flesh by pressing through it, penetrating bone as easily as someone might push a hand through jelly.

  Green Man had seen it happen more than once in the past, so he was just as surprised as Seizer was when this time it didn’t work.

  Henry sat up as Seizer raked his fingers across his belly, trying to open up his guts.

  Again, nothing happened.

  ‘This bugger’s hard as—’

  Whatever Seizer was about to say was cut off as Henry punched him in the stomach, driving the old knave to his knees. It was hard to tell through the goggles, but now Henry was moving, something didn’t seem quite right. He looked a tiny bit too slim, and maybe a little younger than he should. And where Seizer had been holding his throat, the skin looked … smudged? Was that the right word for it?

  Seizer scurried back, trying to get away, a few of his scabs breaking loose as he went.

  Henry assumed a mockery of a martial arts pose and beckoned for Seizer to attack. There was grace and humour in the movement, of a kind the King had never once displayed.

  It’s not Henry. Henry isn’t here. He was never here. They knew we were coming.

  There was a gun in Seizer’s hand now, and he fired it into Henry’s chest. Henry rocked with the impact, but again not in a natural way, and three puffs of chalk blew into the air where h
e’d been hit.

  And that was when Green Man understood. About five years ago, King Henry had commissioned a famous sculptor to make a statue of him to celebrate his first tour of military duty. Somehow, this statue was now in Henry’s bed, made up to look like him, wearing his pyjamas and moving!

  There’s only one Silver Helix ace I know of who can animate statues, thought Green Man as ‘Henry’ swatted the gun from Seizer’s hand before admonishing him with a finger. Pygmalion!

  That meant the ace would be close, close enough to see them. Green Man looked around wildly. Crazy thoughts of secret passages and spy-holes ran through this mind, but then when he realized where Pygmalion was probably hiding it was all he could do not to laugh. The wardrobe! He’s hiding in the wardrobe.

  One of the doors was open slightly, enough to allow anyone inside a view of Henry’s bed.

  ‘Help!’ called Seizer. He’d continued moving hastily backwards until he’d bumped his head against the wall. The statue of Henry made a show of cracking its knuckles and then advanced with an authentically smug version of Henry’s smile.

  Green Man skirted the room to approach the wardrobe from the side. One way or another, he would soon know if his theory was correct. He grabbed the back of the wardrobe and toppled it forward. There was a high-pitched yelp from inside as Green Man slammed it down on the ground, doors first, trapping whoever it was inside.

  The statue of Henry froze mid-step, and then slowly fell sideways, the smug grin still frozen on its face.

  That proves it, thought Green Man, but there was no time for congratulations. He ran back to the door, beckoning Seizer to follow.

  The others were still outside.

  ‘Well?’ hissed Peggy. ‘Did you get the cunt?’

  ‘They’re on to us,’ he replied. ‘We’re aborting and getting out.’

  ‘Wot?’

  ‘This is a trap. Henry isn’t here.’

  ‘Someone’s sold us out. When I find the—’

  ‘Not now, Peggy!’

  He could hear running footsteps coming along the corridor, lots of them. Too many for them to face. Maven had obviously had the same idea and ran past him into Henry’s bedroom. They all followed automatically. The statue remained on its side, unmoving, and someone, presumably Pygmalion, could be heard banging on the inside of the wardrobe.

  Maven ignored him, rushing to the far side of the room to open the window. She hooked something into the wall that trailed a cable to her belt and got ready to jump. ‘Keep up,’ she said to Seizer, and threw a canister back over her shoulder towards the corridor that immediately began to spew smoke.

  Then she leapt out and began abseiling down the wall.

  Seizer looked at the open window dubiously. ‘We’ll be like bloody ducks in a shooting gallery.’

  ‘It’s your funeral, mate,’ said Peggy as she dived past him.

  They could hear people calling orders in the corridor now. The smoke canister had bought them a brief reprieve but it wouldn’t last long.

  Desperation sent Seizer after his daughter.

  Meanwhile, Green Man tied his rope to the statue’s leg and around the leg of the bed, and then started to lower Jamila and Blue Jeans down together. He didn’t have time to make it gentle. As soon as they were clear, he followed them out into the rain, lowering himself hand over hand.

  He was halfway down the wall when he heard a young man’s laughter. Looking over his shoulder, he could see foliage below. Just beyond it was a large circular area of stone with multiple pathways leading from it, including the famous Long Walk – a tree-lined path that ran for over two miles. In that moment it felt very appealing to follow it off into the night. Unfortunately the path to freedom was blocked by five figures. Two women and three men. Even before he’d put names to faces, the lack of weapons combined with their confidence told him who they were straight away: the Silver Helix.

  Damn.

  They weren’t going to walk away from this easily, if at all.

  He resisted the temptation to jump and concentrated on getting to the ground as fast as possible. All the while he was trying to work out who they were facing, and what their chances were.

  One of the women was smartly dressed, her hair worn up, athletic-looking, Middle Eastern. Not old but not young either. He had a terrible feeling it was Jiniri, one of the literal big guns of the Helix.

  The other woman was petite, pale, focused in a way that reminded him of Maven, and dressed in a simple uniform. Stonemaiden? he wondered. He’d only heard rumours; a woman that killed with a single touch.

  Of the three men, one was easily identifiable by the distinctive coat he wore. A mantle passed from one Redcoat to the other over the years. The man wearing it now was square-jawed, tall, and surely far too young for the role. Shouldn’t he be at school? If he was anything like the other Redcoats he’d be an ace, probably one with physical superiority. The second man was slight of build and dressed in a casual suit. His skin was dark, and he looked the most worried of all of them. Green Man had never seen him before. The third man was older, portly, his red hair thinning, and wearing naval dress uniform. He was also standing significantly further back than his fellows. Archimedes. A well-known ace who was due for retirement. Famously, he’d taken down the HMS Juno on his own.

  There was no sign of the teleporting golden ace from the Queen Mary. It was possible he was still in recovery, but he doubted it.

  As Green Man made the last part of his descent, he saw more soldiers both inside and outside the castle. Some were coming to the windows but none followed them out, nor did the ring of soldiers in the grounds advance.

  They’re holding a perimeter and leaving us to the Helix.

  It looked as if the only way out was to go through the enemy. Green Man jumped down with a heavy thud and raised his fists.

  So be it.

  Bobbin and Constance gasped as a blast of cold air hit them. It was sleeting and the temperature had got rawer since they’d come to the station.

  ‘We’ll get a cab,’ she said, walking to the taxi stand. For a moment, her vision was obscured by her hair as a sudden gust whipped it around.

  ‘I can provide you with transportation.’

  It was another altogether too familiar voice. One she’d hoped not to hear again. Turing.

  She shoved her hair behind her ears and glared up at him.

  ‘I thought I made it clear the last time we spoke that I wanted nothing more to do with you or MI7. And how did you find us?’

  He looked pained. ‘Constance, you wouldn’t answer my calls, so I had your phone location traced. Once we knew that, well, Constance, it’s London, there are cameras everywhere …’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘I’m going to put that bloody phone in the rubbish. What do you want?’

  ‘I need to get to Green Man. There’s a joker with him I need to locate. Goes by the name of Boyd-Brackenbury. Constance, I think he may be the real heir to the throne.’

  Constance and Bobbin exchanged a look.

  ‘You decide, Constance,’ Bobbin said. ‘I trust your judgement.’

  She considered Turing. He looked almost as shite as Noel had. ‘Why should I trust you, Turing? You aren’t exactly my favourite person at the moment.’

  ‘Because I’m trying to do the right thing! I need to make amends for … so many things.’

  ‘I’m not standing out here in the cold,’ she said.

  ‘I have a car,’ Turing said. ‘Let me help you with those bags.’ He led them to an illegally parked Mercedes. ‘Privileges go with the job,’ Turing said, opening the back door for her. Constance slid in. He let Bobbin into the passenger side, then quickstepped it to the driver’s side. Once in, he punched the buttons for the seat warmers and turned up the heat.

  ‘I know you have connections to Green Man. All I want is an introduction so I can find Boyd-Brackenbury and determine if he is indeed the heir. There’s so much in play. But the main thing is we find the person who might be
king.’

  ‘You do know Boyd-Brackenbury is already claiming he’s heir to the throne?’ Constance said, retying her scarf. ‘You might not like what you find.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Turing replied, remorse tinging his words. ‘I must right things.’

  Constance shook her head. ‘I’m not even certain Green Man will see us with you in tow.’

  ‘Bobbin,’ Turing said. ‘He’d likely listen to you. And I am a joker, after all.’

  ‘I’m not certain I’d play that card, given your history,’ Bobbin said. ‘But I’ll do what I can.’

  ‘Give up while you can,’ said Redcoat.

  Green Man half-expected Seizer to answer, but the old knave was too busy catching his breath.

  ‘Let us leave and nobody has to die,’ replied Green Man.

  Redcoat laughed. ‘We’re not going to kill you. We’re going to bring you to justice.’

  ‘For all your powers, that is one thing you cannot offer us.’

  ‘What?’

  Peggy pointed her gun in Redcoat’s general direction. ‘I didn’t come here to fucking talk to people!’

  For once, he found himself in agreement with her.

  Time to find out if this iteration of Redcoat is bulletproof.

  But, before Peggy could fire, she swore loudly, as if in pain, and dropped the gun.

  ‘Thanks, Payback,’ said Redcoat with a broad grin.

  Green Man narrowed his eyes. The worried-looking man had taken out a long needle and was holding it in one hand. What has he done? What is his power?

  Before he could think further about that, however, Jiniri began to run towards them. With every step the surrounding lights flickered, and when they came on again, she had grown in height. Step.

  Flicker.

  And now she was as tall as him, her clothes splitting at the seams.

  Step.

  Flicker.

  Twice his height.

  Step (the footfalls much louder now).

  Flicker.

  Three times his height. Over twenty foot tall and covering the distance between them at terrifying speed.