by Mark Hayden
‘You and me both.’
We left Mina’s Volvo in a car park that most country pubs would consider too large and followed the statues of nymphs holding flaming torches to the entrance portico. A heavy in leisurewear stood ready to open the way.
‘Welcome,’ he intoned with a bow.
‘Thank you, Saerdam,’ I responded.
‘What?’ said Lucy.
‘He’s a Fae Knight,’ I whispered while the man heaved back the bronze door (with reliefs of football matches). ‘Saerdam is like sir and ma’am rolled into one.’
I said that country pubs would be jealous of the car park, well country house hotels would be jealous of the atrium beyond the doors. Small shopping malls would be jealous. I haven’t seen so much pink marble since I went to St Peter’s in Rome.
A circle of columns supported a dome, complete with fish pond under it and casual seating arranged artfully around. In front of the pool was the lady herself, flanked by a gum-chewing teenager full of attitude (who had to be a Knight) and an elegant woman in her thirties (who had to be a Hlæfdige). The Knight wore almost nothing (in October!); the Hlæfdige wore a business suit and Tara was dressed in her signature range of gym-wear. Literally her signature range – it said Tara Doyle up the leg and across the chest.
As far as I could see, all the mundane staff were elsewhere, so we got the full Fae welcome.
‘Lord Guardian, you do honour to my home. In the name of peace, welcome.’
I bowed. ‘I am the one honoured to be here. In peace, thank you.’
Before I could say more, Tara broke the spell by rushing over to Lucy. ‘I can’t believe that Paola Berardi’s’ daughter is here! How mad is that, eh?’ She gave Lucy a hug, two kisses and an appraisal. She cast her eye over Lucy’s outfit, then reached a perfectly manicured nail towards Lucy’s bag. ‘One of last autumn’s Sorrento range, isn’t it? And I’m guessing you didn’t get dressed at home this morning? Have you been raiding Mina’s wardrobe, eh?’
Lucy went bright red. ‘Guilty.’
Tara put her arm round Lucy and crooked a finger towards the Knight. ‘Take our guest to the studio. There’s loads of stuff in there that’ll fit her.’
The gum-chewing Knight gave Lucy a bewitching smile. ‘You wouldn’t believe the stuff we get sent, yeah?’
‘And we’ll have some coffee and Danish when I’ve finished with Conrad, won’t we?’ Tara addressed the last remark to her Hlæfdige, whose job appeared to include continuous monitoring of her mistress’s phone. The Hlæfdige nodded and started typing.
A bewildered Lucy was propelled out of the atrium, and Tara pointed to a pair of couches next to the pool. We sat down and the Hlæfdige took up a position behind her, within earshot but not in Tara’s personal space.
I decided to get my apology in first. ‘My Lady, I deeply regret the action I took yesterday. I would not have taken the life of your Mannwolf queen if I could have avoided it.’
She waved it away, dismissing the Queen’s life with a flick of her fingers. ‘Your biggest loss was Karina. She was full of remorse for what she’d done. Wouldn’t have any blame attached to you at all. I think she’d have cut her own throat if you’d have forgiven her. Never mind, eh? So what are you doing to track down these Gnomish lowlives?’ She levelled a finger at me. ‘And don’t you dare say that enquiries are proceeding.’
I told her about the murdered lawyer. ‘Have you heard of him?’
She frowned. ‘No. Should I have?’
‘He may have been killed because he was handling business for the Count. DCI Morton and Mina are looking into it now. And I’ve called up specialist reinforcements.’
‘Who?’ She was direct, and demanded an answer with all the force of her power. I had to keep her onside in the similar way to holding back the aggression of Clan Blackrod.
‘I’m setting a thief to catch a thief. Lloyd Flint is on his way.’
‘More like setting a ferret to catch a rat. Does he remind you of a ferret? He does me. Useful creatures, ferrets.’
The Hlæfdige behind her had become a statue while we were talking – the living model for a sculpture entitled Woman with phone. When she moved her head to look at me, I noticed straight away. Then she touched her finger to her earpiece and frowned. When she spoke, it was a complete shock. A total Pygmalion moment.
‘My Lady, you’ve received a voice note from Mina Desai. I think it’s for the Lord Guardian. Shall I play it? It seems rather urgent.’
‘You what?’ said Tara, bemused. ‘Why would Mina message me?’
I was already half out of my seat. ‘Because my phone doesn’t do voice notes. Play it, please.’
The Hlæfdige put the phone on speaker, and Mina’s voice burst into life.
Conrad, we are being attacked. Botham Tower. Somewhere above the … seventeenth floor.
My heart stopped. It paused for a whole beat before starting again at turbo speed, pumping adrenaline around my system. I was about to dash off when I remembered that, to the Fae, nothing is more important than protocol. I sketched the smallest of bows. ‘My lady, I regret that I must leave. Forgive me, and forgive my rudeness in postponing our hospitality.’
What a waste of words and time. On the other hand, had I not spoken, she might well have forced me to stay and keep eating for days. Seriously. It has been known. Instead, her eyes lit up and she gave me her best smile, the one with thirty-six teeth instead of thirty-two. You have to see it to know just how disconcerting it is.
‘They’ve just signed their own death warrants, haven’t they? No escape for them now. Go well, Lord Guardian. My table awaits your return.’
I looked at the Hlæfdige. ‘Tell Lucy that I’m leaving in three minutes, with or without her.’
The Hlæfdige nodded and pressed her phone. I turned and left; the big bronze doors were already open by the time I’d crossed the atrium.
I got out my phone and lit a cigarette, to give me time to make the crucial decision: the attack was happening now. Who to call? I pictured the scene as best I could, and decided that the most important thing was the presence of the police. I scrolled through my contacts and pressed on Elaine Fraser.
‘Hi Conrad,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I think the doctor’s due soon to discharge me.’
‘Tom and Mina have been attacked at Botham Tower. Somewhere above the seventeenth floor, and that’s all I know. You can put a rocket up the police control room, and I can’t. I’m on my way back from Birkdale. Call me when you know something.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Doesn’t matter. It’s not magick, if that’s what you think.’
‘Right. On it.’
I opened the front doors of the car and leaned on the roof. With one of her three minutes to spare, Lucy Berardi ran out of the palace, barefoot and clutching armfuls of clothing. ‘What’s going on?’ she shouted.
‘Get in and I’ll tell you.’
I slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine while she threw her haul in the back and joined me in the front.
‘Put your belt on and check your phone. You may have the same message.’
She put her phone to her ear as I raced down the drive and shot through the security gate. I made a quick decision and turned east, towards the motorway. It was slightly longer, but would give me the option of going to Manchester if things changed.
Lucy’s face drained of colour. ‘What’s going on? What is this?’
‘I don’t know. Elaine’s on it. She’ll call as soon as she knows something.’
‘What can we do?’
‘We’re doing it now. We’re heading for Middlebarrow and waiting for intelligence.’
‘Why aren’t we going to Manchester?’
‘Because it’s an hour away. By the time we get there, either it will be too late or they’ll have been moved.’
‘You think they’re still alive?’
I have a bond to Mina that goes beyond being in love. I don’t want to find
out, but I think I really would know if she were dead. The Octet wouldn’t just kill her for no reason, and this sounded like a kidnapping. Whether they’d take Tom, too, or kill him out of hand was an issue I didn’t air in front of Lucy.
‘Yes, they’re alive,’ I said, as if I knew for certain.
Lucy stared at her phone, and then started to look for live Tweets. I think. I focused on the series of roundabouts that would take me to the motorway.
Elaine took an agonising further five minutes before she called back. ‘Conrad, they’ve been taken. Uniforms at Botham Tower have just found a PCSO tied up in a bedroom, along with their phones and Mina’s sandals. They got out down the back way. The duty Assistant Constable has activated the protocol. I’m going to ring off and someone will call you. Give them anything you can that’ll help them track them.’
I took a deep breath. ‘Were there any signs of violence?’
‘No blood found. And for God’s sake, don’t tell Lucy.’
‘Too late,’ said Lucy. ‘You’re on hands-free, Elaine.’
‘I’m sorry. I … I’m sorry, OK? Bye.’
The line went dead, and Lucy said, ‘Yeah, she’s always sorry afterwards.’
My reply was cut off by an incoming call. A man identified himself as Gold Commander and did me the honour of assuming that I knew what he meant. I did.
‘We’re dealing with an organised, non-terrorist criminal organisation. Is that correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘Armed? Violent?’
‘Yes to both.’
‘A threat to the public?’
‘Only bystanders.’
‘Good. Now tell me who we’re dealing with and how we can find them. All we’ve got so far is what looks like a Crime Scene van entering the service area. After that the CCTV stopped working.’
‘A total of eight males and eight females, all IC1. Not all will be together. They will be using advanced technology to disrupt CCTV and number plate recognition, but they can’t make a large van any smaller. The driver probably won’t know the area intimately. They’re cool customers, but they’re on a deadline. I’d suggest roadblocks and random searches. It might prompt them to bail out leave the hostages behind.’
There was a silence at the other end: I’d been put on mute while the Gold Commander and his team digested what I’d said. We reached the motorway, and I put my foot down.
He came back on the line and said, ‘Mina Desai is your fiancée, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘We’re going to implement a track-and-trace. The risk to the public is too high for further intervention in the city. I’ll text you the address of the command centre. Could you come straight here so that we can get further information.’
I lifted my hand to make sure Lucy didn’t say anything. ‘Of course. I’m heading down from Bury right now.’
‘And what vehicle are you in, so I can get the gate to open?’
I fixed my eye on the car I was about to overtake and described it to them, including the index.
‘Thanks, Mr Clarke. We’ll expect you shortly.’
I disconnected and Lucy gave me a look. ‘No way am I going there,’ I said. ‘They’ll never let me out, and if they’re not going to stop the little shits in their tracks, someone has to.’
Lucy lifted her hands. ‘What do they want? The Gnomes, I mean.’
‘To scare me off. To buy themselves some time. To find out what we’re up to. I think they went for the two-birds-with-one-stone option: they really did need to shut that lawyer up, and they took the chance to grab Mina at the same time.’
‘What about Tom?’
I sighed. ‘Wrong place, wrong time. They won’t have known who he is until they found him with Mina.’
‘So what now? Where are we going?’
‘Middlebarrow. I need to think, I need my other car, and I need a rendezvous for the rest of the team.’
‘What team?’
I passed her my phone. ‘Dial Eseld Mowbray for me, would you?’
‘Is that Petra Pan? Isn’t she the one who likes dressing up and fancies you?’
Petra Pan? What on earth had Mina said when the girls went upstairs last night? That was a conversation for much later. ‘She’s a friend and an important ally and she’s got two things we’re going to need.’
The car speakers sprang to life with as the call connected, and I started calling in favours.
24 — Whatever it Takes
The magickal silence was lifted for a second, just after Tom had been hoisted up and dropped on something hard. Having no sight and no hearing was disorientating beyond words.
‘We’re going for a ride,’ said the Irish woman’s voice. ‘I’m going to tuck you in next to your little friend and put my foot on you so you don’t bounce around. Wouldn’t want to damage the goods, now would we?’
The strong arms of a Gnome pushed him into something soft and human. Mina, presumably. As the sound disappeared again, he felt a foot pressed into his back.
He was glad of that foot. When you can’t see what’s coming, when you can’t use your hands, every turn and stop of a vehicle comes as a shock. All he could do was focus on trying not to squash Mina. It was going to be a long drive.
His whole world shrank. First he couldn’t think of what to do next, then he couldn’t think of what Clarke might be doing, and finally all he could focus on was Lucy. Surviving for Lucy. Keeping Mina safe for Lucy. That was the most important thing.
The foot dug into his back with extra force, and the van rocked alarmingly: they were off the public road. It rocked again and again, and at last came to a stop. The foot came off his back and sound was restored.
‘Just you two lie there for a wee while. You’ll be on the move shortly.’
The van door didn’t slam shut, nor did the blanket of silence descend again. He held his breath and listened for someone else’s movement or breathing. Nothing. ‘Mina? Are you okay?’
‘Yes.’
He didn’t say anything else, and neither did Mina. A minute later, the floor swayed as someone heavy got in. Another Irish voice spoke, deep and masculine. Irish Gnomes?
‘Roll over, Inspector Morton. We’re going to move you now.’
He did what was asked, and felt his arms nearly pulled out of their sockets when he was heaved to his knees and dragged to the edge of the van. Then he was lifted and lowered on to the ground and frogmarched, stumbling over the ground, until they stopped. The hand on his arms kept a strong and silent grip.
‘Ow! Careful!’ said Mina. He heard footsteps, boots crunching on rough concrete.
‘Walk forwards. Both of you.’ It was a different voice, male and Manchester. An echo told him that they had moved inside a large building.
Tom did as he was asked. ‘Stop.’ Hands gripped his arms again while the plastic restraints were cut off, then his arms were brought in front of him and something fastened round his wrists. ‘Close your eyes or they’ll hurt.’ Again, he did what he was told, and more hands pulled off the hood. Light flooded through his eyelids, and he squeezed them more tightly until he could risk blinking. Footsteps receded. He still thought that they weren’t alone, and when he blinked a little, the first thing he saw was two figures, arms folded, waiting for him and Mina to notice them.
During the abduction, he hadn’t been able to focus on the Gnome’s faces, so he didn’t know if the male was one of them; the woman he recognised as the one who’d tackled Mina. He immediately gave them names, to try and give him some control over the situation. This was Gnome1 and Colleen, and they were standing at the end of a corridor made from bales of straw. Tom and Mina were at the end, and they both had handcuffs and long chains that were anchored to rings in the floor. Cement dust lying next to the rings showed that they’d only been drilled recently.
Mina was closer to their captors, Tom closer to the end of the corridor. They each had a bale of straw to sit on and a blanket. Placed on the floor by each of their straw bale
s was a bucket, a roll of toilet paper and a large bottle of water.
Mina grabbed handfuls of her long black hair and pulled it away from her face, smoothing out the mess that the hood had made. She was the first to speak. ‘Something for my feet would be good. This floor is very cold.’ Her voice was detached, impersonal, and Tom could hear the echo of generations of Desais commanding their servants.
Colleen looked at Gnome1, and he gave a curt nod. She walked off, and the Gnome spoke. ‘If you’re both lucky, your boyfriend won’t try to find us, or he’ll try and fail. Either way, you’ll be home for breakfast tomorrow. If you’re unlucky, he’ll turn up and we’ll have to kill you. Before killing him, of course.’
He didn’t wait for an answer, turning and walking away to the left, towards the source of light, presumably the entrance to the barn, because that’s where they were: a big metal barn on a farm. When quiet descended, Tom listened hard. There. The gentle lowing of cows kept indoors. They were on a dairy farm.
Colleen the captor appeared briefly at the end of the straw corridor and threw a pair of flip-flops to Mina. Colleen retreated, and someone shut the barn doors. Once the reverberation faded, they were alone. Mina pushed her feet into the man-sized flip-flops and shuffled to her bale of straw, the chain clinking as she moved.
‘I am so sorry, Tom,’ she said, looking him straight in the eye. ‘If you had not been given that Persona, you would not be here, and your presence makes life a lot more complicated.’
What was she on about? Tom was under no illusions about how Clarke would see his involvement in this: Clarke would do everything he could for Tom, yes, but Tom had seen the way Clarke looked at Mina. Clarke would move heaven and earth to protect her. ‘Conrad will put you first,’ he said. ‘I’m probably safer being nearer to you than on the outside.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘I do not make offerings to Ganesh for this life alone. Conrad knows that when my life ends, I will be born again.’
Reincarnation? Was that a thing? Karina hadn’t mentioned it in her little talk on Gods 101 yesterday. Mina saw the confusion on his face and said, ‘Tom, when Conrad proposed, I released him from his promise to always tell me the truth. A few days later, when he’d got used to the idea that we were actually going to be married, I made him promise never, ever to sacrifice himself for me, because Ganesh will open the door to my next life.’