by Mark Hayden
Vicky left without a word, and waited while I used the facilities. When it was her turn, I went back to Adaryn. She was crying.
‘It was a lie, wasn’t it? Harry isn’t going to let me make an Atonement.’
‘No. You should be able to clear your debts, though. I brought you this.’ I handed over a screenprint from the Amazon bookstore.
She studied the printout. ‘Teach yourself Irish Gaelic. Kick a girl while she’s down, won’t you?’
‘With my bad leg, I don’t do so much kicking any more.’
‘Yeah. I noticed that. Get in a fight with a Dwarf, did you?’
‘The Taliban, actually. I was trying to say that where there’s life, there’s hope, Immy. You got out of that school. You can get out of this mess.’
‘You’re right, but it won’t be Ireland though.’ She found a tissue and dabbed her eyes. ‘Brittany’s the place for me. Welsh is related to Breton, and the scene is growing there. I don’t even need to learn French – they all speak English. And don’t call me Immy again, Conrad.’
‘Sorry. And good luck. I will hear you play one day, Adaryn. I’ll bring my girlfriend and leave Vicky at home.’
‘Probably a good idea. Good luck with the Dragon, too.’
‘Thanks. One last thing – where did you get the manuscripts from?’
‘I picked them up here and there.’
‘Don’t lie to a liar. If the Bard of MADOC had found Dagda’s Harp, I’d believe you, but I don’t believe you stumbled across the complete How to Find, Breed and Raise a Dragon. Try again.’
She stood up and shivered. The temperature was dropping rapidly. She swished across to a cupboard and took out some sweats pulling on the hoodie over the ballgown. ‘I’d rather die in Blackfriars Undercroft than tell you where I got those, and that’s the truth. In fact, I’d rather drink bleach than tell you. Or anyone.’
That was a bit extreme. A shadow in the arched doorway told me that Vicky was back. I turned to go.
‘Take the scotch, Conrad. I can’t stand the stuff.’
I didn’t turn round to respond. ‘That’s very generous, Adaryn, but no thanks. If you’d offered me a bottle of gin as well, I’d have taken them both.’
Vicky gave me an ear-to-ear grin from the doorway.
23 — An Amouse Bouche
Rick James was waiting for us in the hotel bar when we got back. I got two doubles, one for me and one for Vicky. Rick said he was on orange juice. While I stood at the bar, Vicky told him what we’d learnt, leaving out the part about the manuscript.
‘So what’s your plan?’ he said at the end. To give him credit, he asked both of us, not just me.
‘It’s very simple,’ I said. ‘Tomorrow, we’ll scope out the timber yard. Very, very carefully. Meanwhile, you continue to cause distraction while waiting for every Watch Captain that Hannah can spare to rendezvous at the Royal Hotel in Avonmouth. It’s only half an hour from Newport, but very much not in Wales. When we’ve got the intel, we plan an assault on the nursery cave.’
‘Every Watch Captain?’
‘Every one that she can spare from life-or-death duties, and who can get there by five o’clock tomorrow. She also needs to have a word with the Prime Minister. Oh, and we want to bring one of the Druids on board.’
‘What did she say?’
I looked blankly at him. ‘Vicky told you what Adaryn said.’
‘I mean Hannah. What did the Boss say when you told her your plan?’
‘I haven’t told her. I wanted to run it past you first, Rick.’
‘Oh. Right. Which Druid?’
That’s why he wasn’t a leader: the least important part of the plan was the Druid.
‘I rang Harry. MADOC are on good terms with the Order in Swansea, who have a member in South Wales Police CID. She’ll pull out her warrant card at Dragon Forest Products and ask who’s bought two loads of tree trunks. Harry doesn’t know what I want her for.’
‘Then it sounds like a plan. It’s the Secretary of the Cobra Committee who deals with all magickal emergencies, not the PM.’
‘Even ones that might require nuclear weapons?’
‘Don’t go there, Conrad. That’s not going to happen.’
‘I bloody well hope not, Rick, but if that Dragon matures… Do you want to tell the PM that we need to borrow a nuke, sharpish?’
‘Borrow?’
‘We don’t have any small ones. Not since 1992. We’ll have to borrow one off the Yanks.’
He shook his head. Vicky had reluctantly accepted the ultimate contingency plan. Rick, not so much. ‘Do you want me there when you … take down the Dragon?’
I nodded to Vicky, and she brought out a box she’d borrowed from Salomon’s House. The Julius manuscript was sealed inside.
I looked Rick in the eye. ‘Yes and no. I need a witness, and I need someone to keep our side of the bargain with Adaryn if things go tits up. If anything happens to Vicky and me, ask yourself this question: did Adaryn hold anything back when we spoke to her? If the answer’s no, give her this box. If the answer’s yes, then kill her.’
‘Eh?’ That was Vicky. ‘You didn’t threaten her with that, Conrad. You just said that the deal would be off.’
‘Then I’ll leave that up to Rick. Come on, Vicky, let’s go and Skype the Boss. If all goes to plan, Rick, we’ll be meeting up tomorrow night, if we don’t get flooded out. Have you seen the weather forecast?’
‘Yeah. See you.’
We left Rick to finish his orange juice. He was staring at the box when we walked out of the bar.
The girl in the office went very quiet when we walked in. Our tame Druid didn’t mess about: she flashed her ID badge and said, ‘Detective Sergeant Helen Davies, South Wales Police CID. I need to ask someone a question about a delivery of raw logs.’
Dragon Forestry Products was bigger than I expected – the yard alone covered a couple of acres of the Neath valley, and there was a factory building, too. The offices, however, were small enough for everyone to share and share alike.
‘Greg!’ said the girl. ‘It’s the police.’
She scuttled off into the background, and a rather distracted man in his forties came to the front. Helen introduced herself again, and Greg woke up. He pointed to us and said, ‘Who are these two?’
‘MI5,’ said Helen curtly. ‘They’re not big on real names. Just answer a question and we’ll be gone.’
Greg’s eyes widened until he realised he was staring at us. He went red and looked back at Helen. ‘How can I help?’
‘March last year, someone ordered two full trailer loads of raw tree trunks. A one-off order. You can’t get many of them.’
‘We don’t. It was ordered by a building contractor, but someone paid cash in advance to guarantee delivery. Is this really a matter of national security? The woman who paid didn’t look like a terrorist.’
‘They never do,’ I said sagely, in my poshest voice.
‘Right. Hang on.’ Greg commandeered the receptionist’s computer and did a quick search. Ten seconds later, he handed over a Post-it note with the name of the contractor, delivery address and a vehicle registration number. ‘Davey’s in the yard, or should be. That’s his lorry. He delivered it, if you want a word.’
Helen took the note. ‘Thank you for your co-operation, sir. This has to remain completely confidential until you’re told otherwise. Not even the rest of the office can know about it.’
‘I understand.’
Helen scanned the note, passed it to me, and led us into the yard. She stopped to look at her phone. ‘You guys find the driver, yeah? I’ll catch you up.’
I read the delivery address: Upper Tawe Valley. Ring for directions. I shrugged and passed the note to Vicky. She shrugged, too. ‘Over there. They look like wagons for transporting whole trees.’
We were bending down, checking number plates, when Helen strode over, coat flapping. There was a noticeably stronger breeze this morning, and potential gales forecast w
ith the storm tonight. There was a stormy expression on Helen’s face as well.
‘What’s going on?’ she demanded, waving her phone. ‘I’ve just heard that MADOC have declared Adaryn Owain and another five of their lot to be Anathema, for being complicit in the murder of Iestyn Pryce. I cannot believe Adaryn had anything to do with this – she’s an artist, not a murderer. In Rhiannon’s name, Clarke, what’s going on?’
‘We’re trying to stop a Dragon,’ I said. ‘That’s confidential, of course.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not stupid – there are no Dragons. You’re just using me to track down the five Druids.’
‘Find the Druid, find the Dragon,’ I said. ‘Ring Adaryn and ask her, if you don’t believe me, and it’s three we’re after, not six: Surwen is with the Goddess, Gwyddno’s in custody and we’ve dealt with Adaryn. As I said, the most important target is the Dragon.’
‘You’ve dealt with Adaryn Owain? What happened? What have you done. Is she hurt?’
You can tell a lot about someone’s priorities when they hear really bad news. Helen Davies was clearly a big fan of the Bard (unlike Vicky, who was rolling her eyes). ‘Don’t worry, Helen,’ I said, ‘Adaryn is fine. She’ll sing again soon enough. And you’re right – she had no direct involvement in Iestyn’s murder. The Dragon, on the other hand…’
‘Oh. Why didn’t you tell me? And don’t give me that need to know rubbish.’
‘The deeper I get into Wales, the more I feel like I’m in enemy territory. Harry said I could trust you, but I’m getting paranoid. I’m sorry.’
She set her mouth in a grim line, pulled out her warrant card and tapped the back. ‘I took an oath, too. We’re on the same side, Clarke. Don’t forget, Wales voted Leave; we’ve more in common with you than you realise. Neither of you are from London, are you?’
‘Village near Cheltenham,’ I said.
‘Newcastle upon Tyne,’ said Vicky. ‘As if you hadn’t guessed.’
‘Then us three have got more in common with each other than we have with them in London. It’s a fact.’
‘It certainly feels that way,’ I said, nodding. Vicky kept her own counsel.
‘Then let’s find this Dragon.’ Helen pointed to the one truck we hadn’t examined. ‘I think that’s Davey. Sir! Excuse me!’
The man stopped with his foot on the step to the cab. He looked over and saw us, then shut the door and walked to meet us half way. He looked an affable sort, mid-forties, sandy haired and stoop-shouldered. ‘Are you after me?’ he asked, somewhat surprised.
Helen announced herself, then told him it was a very serious matter. She passed him the Post-it note and asked if he remembered the delivery.
‘Yes, officer, I do. Very unusual to have a one-off delivery of unfinished trunks.’
‘Good. Where exactly did you drop them?’
‘Right up the top of the Swansea Valley, in the National Park. I had to ring for directions.’
Vicky and I exchanged glances. The driver thought he’d answered our question, when he’d said exactly nothing. This is what happened when something was Occulted.
Helen hadn’t got there yet. As most of her interviewees were mundane, she probably just thought he was thick. ‘And where exactly did you go, sir? What directions did they give you?’
Poor Davey wanted to help. He really did. ‘I stopped just before the National Showcaves Centre ’cos there was somewhere safe to pull in. I rang the number, and they gave me directions. I followed them to the site.’
Before Helen could lose patience, I stepped forward. ‘Can you describe the site?’
‘Sure. It was by a run of old cottages, probably built for a lime kiln, they were, in a little valley. Looked derelict now, but they had all sorts of construction plant at the back. I had ever such a job turning round. Ever so tight it was. They got me to drop the whole load by the side of the track.’
Helen was being patient with me, so I tested it a bit further. ‘Did you speak to anyone? Did they say what was going on?’
‘I only spoke to the site manager – woman, it was. Hard hat and everything. I remember that because you still don’t get many women running construction jobs. She was pleasant enough, said they were going to move the logs on a little flat-bed, one at a time. Something to do with floating them on a marsh. The lads on the diggers must have been having their break. Or a day off. She was the only one around.’
‘Can you remember what she looked like?’
‘Attractive – sorry. That’s not appropriate is it?’
Helen gave him a smile. ‘If that’s how you found her, sir, then who are we to judge? You should remember her, then.’
‘Mmm. Quite young to be a site manager – no more than forty, I’d have said. She looked almost exotic, you know, dark skin, dark eyes, black hair, not like your average girl from the valleys. Didn’t think much of her tea, though. Herbal stuff, it was.’
The penny finally dropped for Helen. ‘Thank you, sir. This is a highly delicate matter. If you could keep it to yourself…’
‘Of course.’ He climbed into his cab, and we adjourned to the Mercedes.
‘Gave the other builders the day off and slipped him a potion,’ said Helen. ‘I’m surprised he remembered the site.’
‘It’s hard to make someone forget something when they’re standing there,’ said Vicky. ‘Making him forget the directions would have been a lot easier.’
Detective Sergeant Helen Davies, Druid of Swansea, was not a forgettable person. She was large, fair of skin and hair, and combined empathy with determination. If I had to sum her up, it would be maternal powerhouse.
‘Caves,’ I said. ‘Davey mentioned the National Showcaves. Do you know the area?’
‘A bit. The Western Beacons are riddled with caves. There’s a huge one up there that my old station went down for a charity fundraiser. Not my cup of tea.’
‘But exactly where you’d warehouse a Dragon.’
Helen moved her coat from underneath herself to get more comfortable. ‘If they’re using Occulting like that, it must be serious. What exactly’s going on, Mr Clarke?’
‘Conrad, please. Excuse me asking, but what’s your involvement with the magickal side of the Order in Swansea?’
She laughed. ‘You mean How much Gift have you got? If you need to ask, you can’t have much yourself.’
‘He hasn’t,’ said Vicky. ‘And he’s got great big feet. He loves to put them in things. He wouldn’t have asked it wasn’t important, though.’
I gave an apologetic grin. ‘Normally she hits my bad leg when I’m out of order, so I’ll take that.’
Helen sighed. ‘I’m just part of the chorus, that’s all. I did a bit of Sorcery when I joined the Order, but I gave it up to join the police. That won’t stop me coming with you, though.’
‘I’m not sure…’
‘…Sod that, Conrad. I’m not due on shift until two, and I can easily find an excuse to be late. Get driving and tell me what’s going on.’
I looked at Vicky. She nodded her agreement. ‘What about your car, Helen?’
‘My useless older son can pick it up, so let’s get going.’
‘Fine.’ I took a quick look at the map and worked out a route. ‘You tell her, Vicky. I’ll drive.’
We were climbing the Inter-Valley Road, crossing from the Vale of Neath to the Swansea Valley, and it had gone very quiet in the car. The last thing Helen had said was, ‘Lions? Real lions?’ To fill the silence, I asked Vicky to call Rick and update him. He said in reply that six Watch Captains were on their way to the hotel. Helen went even quieter.
Vicky twisted round to face the back again. ‘You don’t have to come with us. I signed up for this – you didn’t.’
There was a pause. ‘You’re not going to attack or nothing?’
‘Why no, pet. This is just reconnaissance.’
‘Then count me in. If I can help, I want to.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Welcome to the Merlyn’s Tower
Irregulars.’
‘You what?’
‘Forgive my colleague,’ said Vicky. ‘He went to a boys’ school and spent twenty years in the RAF. He likes to give things nicknames, and Merlyn’s Tower Irregulars is just his name for everyone who helps us out.’ She turned to face me. ‘If he had any more magick, we wouldn’t need them.’
‘So I don’t get a badge or nothing?’ said Helen.
‘Don’t encourage him,’ said Vicky, with some force. I actually thought that badges were a good idea. Maybe one day.
We crested the top of the road, and South Wales spread itself before us. The nearby fields were bathed in early spring sunshine, but now that we could see the horizon, we could also see Storm Haley on her way. The extra trip to Neath Retail Park for proper waterproofs was going to be a good investment. It was a shame that Helen wasn’t so well equipped.
Something from last night had been bugging me. ‘Vicky, you remember what Adaryn said about Aristotelian magick?’
‘Aye. What about it?’
‘How did that work? I presume that the Laws of Nature haven’t changed since classical times.’
Vicky settled back in her seat. ‘It was only a few lectures, just for background on the old texts. Your pal Chris Kelly taught it, so I can’t say I was on the edge of me seat.’
‘I won’t have a word said against him.’
‘I’m joking, man. He’s not a bad lecturer, really, it’s just that we have different views on the what makes an interesting subject. And by the way, the jury’s still out on the Laws of Nature. Even some mundane scientists think they might have changed. A bit.’
‘But the world has always been made of atoms and stuff, right?’ That was Helen, from the back.
‘Right. Chris said that the old magick is like old metal-working. People have been making steel for centuries, good steel, and they were able to vary the carbon content without ever knowing what carbon was, or even why they needed limestone and charcoal to make iron. They just got on with it. Once atomic theory came along, metallurgy became a proper subject, and that’s when the Bessemer process was discovered, and all that stuff. And no, I haven’t the foggiest idea what the Bessemer process is.’