The Book of Dust: The Secret Commonwealth (Book of Dust, Volume 2)

by Philip Pullman

  “We don’t have secret police in this country, Mrs. Lonsdale,” the man replied. “Captain is my rank, as you observe. I’m an officer in the regular army, seconded for security duties. My colleague here is Sergeant Topham. We’re interested in a young woman you know. Lyra Belacqua.”

  “Belacqua’s not her name.”

  “I believe she goes by the nickname Silvertongue. But legally that is not her name. Where is she, Mrs. Lonsdale?”

  “Fuck off,” said Alice calmly. Her eyes were still on the Master’s face, and his expression hadn’t changed in the slightest. However, a delicate pink was beginning to show in his cheeks.

  “That attitude isn’t going to help you,” said Manton. “At this moment in time, in this informal setting, it’s just bad manners. But I should warn you—”

  The door opened, and Janet came in with a tray.

  “Thank you, Janet,” the Master said. “Just leave it on the desk, if you would.”

  Janet couldn’t help looking at Alice, whose gaze was still fixed on the Master.

  Alice said to the agent, “Yes? You were going to warn me about something?”

  A tiny frown appeared on Hammond’s forehead, and he glanced at Janet. “Just leave the tray,” he said.

  “I’m still waiting,” said Alice. “Someone was going to warn me about something.”

  Janet put the tray down. Her hands were shaking. She crossed to the door, almost tiptoeing, and went out. Hammond sat forward and began to pour the coffee.

  “That really wasn’t very wise, Mrs. Lonsdale,” said Manton.

  “I thought it was quite clever.”

  “You’re putting your friend in danger.”

  “I don’t know how you work that out. Am I in danger?”

  The Master passed one cup to Manton, another to his colleague. “I think it would really help, Mrs. Lonsdale,” he said, “if you simply answered the questions.”

  “Alice? May I call you Alice?” said Manton.

  “No.”

  “Very well. Mrs. Lonsdale. We’re concerned about the well-being of the young woman—young lady—who used to be in your care at Jordan College. Lyra Belacqua.”

  He said the name firmly. Alice said nothing. Hammond was now watching, narrow-eyed.

  “Where is she?” said the other man, Topham. It was the first time he’d spoken.

  “I don’t know,” said Alice.

  “Are you in contact with her?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know where she was going when she left?”

  “No.”

  “When did you last see her?”

  “A month, maybe. I don’t know. You’re from the CCD, aren’t you?”

  “That’s neither here nor—”

  “I bet you are. I ask that because some of your thugs came here, came to this college, to her room, the last day I saw her. Got themselves let into a place that ought to have been safe. Made a right mess of it. So you’ll have a record of that date. That’s when I last knew where she was. As far as I know, you might have taken her yourselves since then. She might be locked up in one of your filthy dungeons right now. Have you looked?”

  She was still staring at Hammond. The pink had left his cheeks, which were now becoming pale.

  “I believe you know more than you’re telling us, Mrs. Lonsdale,” said Manton.

  “Oh, is that what you believe? And is it true because you believe it?”

  “I think you know more than—”

  “You answer my question, and I might answer yours.”

  “I’m not playing a game, Mrs. Lonsdale. I have the authority to ask questions, and if you don’t answer them, I’ll arrest you.”

  “I thought a place like Jordan College was safe from this sort of bullying interference. Was I wrong, Dr. Hammond?”

  “There used to be a concept known as scholastic sanctuary,” said the Master, “but that’s long out of date. In any case, it only offered protection to Scholars. College servants have to answer questions here, just as they do outside. I really advise you to answer, Mrs. Lonsdale.”

  “Why?”

  “Cooperate with these gentlemen, and the college will make sure you have legal representation. But if you adopt an attitude of truculent hostility, there’s little I can do to help.”

  “Truculent hostility,” she said. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I’ll ask you again, Mrs. Lonsdale,” said Manton. “Where is Lyra Belacqua?”

  “I don’t know where she is. She’s traveling.”

  “Where is she going?”

  “Dunno. She never told me.”

  “Well, you see, that’s one thing I don’t believe. You’re very close to that young woman. Known her all her life, so I understand. I don’t believe she’d just take off on a whim and never tell you where she was going.”

  “On a whim? She left because your thugs were chasing her. She was afraid, and I don’t blame her. There used to be a time when there was justice in this country. I don’t know if you remember it, Dr. Hammond. Maybe you were somewhere else. But in my lifetime it used to be that you had to have cause to arrest someone, and—what did you call it?—truculent hostility wasn’t cause enough.”

  “But that’s not what the problem is,” said Manton. “You can be as truculent as you like; it makes no difference to me. I’m not interested. If I arrest you, it won’t be because of your emotional attitude but because you refuse to answer a question. I’ll ask you again—”

  “I’ve answered it. I’ve told you I don’t know where she is.”

  “And I don’t believe you. I think you do, and I’m going to make damn sure you tell me.”

  “And how are you going to make damn sure? You going to lock me up? Torture me? What?”

  Manton laughed. Topham said, “I don’t know what lurid stories you’ve been reading, but we don’t torture people in this country.”

  “Is that true?” Alice asked Hammond.

  “Of course. Torture is forbidden under English law.”

  Before any of them could react, Alice stood up and went swiftly to the door. Her dæmon, Ben, usually self-contained and even languid, was quite capable of ferocity, and he snarled and snapped at the dæmons of the two CCD men to keep them back while Alice opened the door and went out into Janet’s office.

  Janet looked up from her desk in alarm. The Bursar, Mr. Stringer, had arrived and was standing beside her, sorting through some letters. Alice had time to say, “Janet—Mr. Stringer—witnesses—” before Topham caught hold of her left arm.

  Janet said, “Alice! What—”

  The Bursar stared in astonishment, and his dæmon fluttered from one shoulder to the other. A moment later, Alice swung her right hand round and slapped Topham’s face hard. Janet gasped. Ben and the other two dæmons were snarling, biting, grappling, and Topham kept a tight grip on Alice’s arm, and then spun her round and slammed the arm up behind her back.

  “Tell people!” Alice cried. “Tell the whole college. Tell people outside! I’m being arrested for—”

  “That’s enough,” said Manton, who had come to join Topham, and who now took hold of Alice’s other arm, in spite of her struggles.

  “This is what happens now in this college,” Alice said, “under that man. This is what he allows. This is the way he likes to—”

  Manton shouted to drown her voice. “Alice Lonsdale, I’m arresting you for obstructing an officer in the performance of his duty—”

  “They’re trying to find Lyra!” Alice shouted. “That’s who they really want! Tell everyone—”

  She felt her arms pulled backwards and tried to go with it, but then the click of a lock and a hard metal edge digging into her wrists told her she was pinioned. She fell still. No point in fighting handcuffs.

  “Dr. Hammo
nd, I must protest—” the Bursar began, as the Master came out of the inner office.

  Topham had slipped a chain around Ben’s neck, attached to a long, stout stick wrapped in leather. It was humiliating for the dæmon, and he fought furiously, snarling and tearing and snapping. Topham was good at this, trained, practiced, and ruthless. Ben had to submit. Alice knew, though, that Topham would have a hard time when he tried to take the chain off.

  Hammond said to the Bursar, “Raymond, this is a sad and quite unnecessary business. I do beg your pardon. I was quite clearly wrong to think we could deal with it tactfully.”

  “But why is it necessary to use this degree of force? I’m absolutely appalled, Master. Mrs. Lonsdale is a college servant of long standing.”

  “These men en’t ordinary police, Mr. Stringer,” Alice said. “They’re—”

  “Take her outside,” said Manton.

  Topham began to pull, and she resisted.

  “Tell people!” Alice shouted. “Tell everyone you know! Janet, tell Norman and Barry—”

  Topham pulled so hard she lost her footing and fell on the floor. Ben plunged and snarled and fought at the end of the chain, his teeth snapping an inch from Manton’s throat.

  “Raymond, step inside with me for a moment” were the last words Alice heard from the Master, as she saw him put his arm around the Bursar’s shoulders and draw him into the inner office. The last thing she saw was Janet’s terrified face, and then she felt the prick of a sharp needle in her shoulder, and she lost consciousness.

  * * *

  * * *

  Quite early that afternoon, as soon as Janet, the Bursar’s secretary, could get away, she cycled hard up the Woodstock Road towards the Wolvercote turn. Her squirrel dæmon, Axel, sat in the basket on the handlebars, cold and fearful.

  Janet had often been to the Trout with Alice and other friends. She knew at once what Alice’s last words meant: Norman and Barry were the two peacocks at the inn. The original Norman and Barry had drowned in the great flood, but their successors always bore the same names, because Malcolm’s mother said it saved time.

  She pedaled hard through Wolvercote and along to Godstow, and turned in at the garden of the Trout, hot and breathless.

  “Your hair’s all over the place,” said Axel.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake. Stop fussing.”

  She smoothed it down and went into the parlor. It was a quiet time of day; there were only two drinkers in the bar, gossiping by the fire; Mrs. Polstead was polishing glasses, and smiled a welcome.

  “Don’t usually see you at this time of day,” she said. “Afternoon off?”

  “I need to tell you something urgent,” Janet said in her quietest voice. The drinkers by the fire took no notice.

  Mrs. Polstead said, “Come into the Terrace Room,” and led the way along the corridor. The two dæmons, squirrel and badger, followed them close behind.

  As soon as the door was closed, Janet said, “Alice Lonsdale. She’s been arrested.”

  “What?”

  Janet told her what had happened. “And she said, as they took her away, she said to me, ‘Tell Norman and Barry,’ and of course I knew she didn’t mean the peacocks, I knew she meant you and Reg. I don’t know what to do. It was awful.”

  “CCD, you think?”

  “Oh, yes. No doubt at all.”

  “And the Master didn’t do anything to stop it?”

  “He was on their side! He was helping them! But it’s all round college now, obviously, about Alice, and everyone’s furious. Like they were when he took Lyra’s rooms away, and then when she vanished. But there’s nothing you can do, is there? He hasn’t broken any laws; it’s quite within his power….But poor Alice…Good for her, though, she got in a good slap on one of those thugs….”

  “I imagine she would. You wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of Alice. But the Bursar, though. What did he say?”

  “After he came out of the office with the Master, he was—I don’t know how to put it—subdued. Not himself. Ashamed, even. It’s a horrible place now, Jordan,” Janet finished passionately.

  “It wants clearing out,” said Brenda. “Why don’t you come with me?”

  “Where?”

  “Jericho. I’ll tell you why on the way.”

  * * *

  * * *

  The two women cycled together, urgently, along the towpath through Port Meadow, down to the boatyard, over the footbridge, and along Walton Well Road and into Jericho.

  Malcolm’s mother had known Hannah Relf almost as long as he had, and knew she’d want to know at once about this. Brenda Polstead had a shrewd idea about the secret hinterland her son shared with Dame Hannah, although she’d never asked either of them about it. She knew Hannah would know the right people to talk to, who’d be able to help, who else to warn.

  They turned into Cranham Street, but stopped at once.

  “That’s her house,” said Brenda.

  Outside Hannah’s house stood an anbaric van, and a man was putting several boxes in the back. They watched as he came out twice, each time with an armful of cardboard boxes or files.

  “That’s one of the men from this morning,” Janet whispered.

  They pushed their bicycles along the pavement, towards the van. As Topham came out with a third armful of files, he turned and saw them. He glared at them, but said nothing and shut the van before going back inside.

  “Come on,” said Brenda.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We’re just going to call on Hannah. Perfectly normal thing to do.”

  Janet followed as Brenda pushed her bike forthrightly up to the house and leant it on the little garden wall. Brenda’s badger dæmon, broad-snouted, heavy-shouldered, was close at her heels as she rang the doorbell. Janet waited a few feet further back.

  There were voices inside, male voices, and Hannah’s too. Theirs were raised and hers wasn’t. Brenda rang the doorbell again. She looked at Janet, who looked back at this stocky woman in her fifties, in her tweed overcoat that was a little too tight, with her expression of calm determination. Janet saw Malcolm very clearly in his mother at that moment, and she had admired him greatly (and silently) for a long time.

  The door opened, and Brenda turned back to face the other man, the one who was in charge.

  “Yes?” he said, cold and hard.

  “Well, who are you, then?” said Brenda. “We’ve come to visit my friend Hannah. Are you doing some work for her?”

  “She’s busy at the moment. You’ll have to come back later.”

  “No, she’ll see me now. She’s expecting me. Hannah,” she called, loud and clear. “It’s Brenda. Can I come in?”

  “Brenda!” Hannah called, and her voice sounded tight and high-pitched, and then was cut off.

  “What’s going on?” said Brenda to the captain.

  “It’s absolutely nothing to do with you. Dame Relf is helping us with some important inquiries. I’m going to ask you to—”

  “Dame Relf,” said Brenda with powerful scorn. “Get out of the way, you ignorant bully. Hannah! We’re coming in.”

  Before the man’s dæmon could do more than snarl, Brenda’s badger had the wolf’s paw in his crushing jaws and was shouldering her out of the way. The captain put his hands on Brenda’s breast and tried to push her back, but she swung her right hand and cracked him so hard on the side of the head that he stumbled and nearly fell.

  “Topham!” he called.

  Brenda was past him already and at the sitting room door. She saw Hannah inside, sitting upright and uncomfortable as the other man twisted her arm behind her back.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Brenda said.

  Behind her she could hear a scuffle, and Janet said loudly, “Don’t you touch me!”

  Han
nah said, “Brenda—be careful—” Topham twisted her arm further, and Hannah grimaced.

  “Let her go at once,” Brenda demanded. “Take your hands off, stand back, move right away. Go on.”

  Topham’s reply was to twist even harder. Hannah couldn’t help a little gasp of pain.

  Suddenly something cannoned into Brenda’s back and she fell forward into the little room, right over the chair Hannah was sitting in. Janet fell with her—Manton had flung her forward to shake her hands off his sleeves—and all three women tumbled onto the hearth, just a forearm’s length away from the fire.

  Topham had lost his grip on Hannah’s arm, and under the impact of the other two he fell back against the glass cabinet that held Hannah’s collection of porcelain, crashing with it to the floor.

  Brenda was the first to stand up, and in her hand was the poker from the little stand of fire irons. Janet, in imitation, had picked up the shovel. Hannah had fallen badly and didn’t seem able to move, but Brenda stepped across her and confronted the two men implacably.

  “Now turn around, go outside, and leave,” she said. “You’re not getting any further with this. I don’t know who you think you are or what you think you’re doing, but by God you’re not going to get away with it.”

  “Put that down,” said Manton to Brenda. “I warn you—”

  He tried to seize it. She swiped him hard across the wrist, and he took a step backwards.

  Topham was still struggling to get up from the broken frame and shattered glass of the cabinet. Brenda glanced at him and was pleased to see him bleeding from a cut hand.

  “And you,” Brenda said, “how dare you manhandle an elderly woman, you cowardly thug. Go on, get out.”

  “All those boxes—” said Janet.

  “Yes, stealing as well. You can take them out of your van before you go.”

  “I remember you,” said Manton to Janet. “You’re the secretary from Jordan College. You can say goodbye to that job.”

  “And what have you done with Alice Lonsdale?” Brenda said. “Where have you taken her? What’s she supposed to have done?”