Tenfold

by Mark Hayden

  ‘You gave me an order, ma’am.’

  ‘Hannah, not ma’am. Just for once, please. I know I gave you an order, but that doesn’t make it easy to obey.’

  ‘You’ve got your reasons, Hannah, and you’ll tell me in a minute, when you’ve finished buttering me up. If I said it was really, really hard, would I get another drink?’

  ‘Oy vey, have I missed this? Yes. My life has been too easy without you.’ She tossed back her Dawn’s Blessing and rolled it round her tongue. ‘First, I wanted to say thank you. I was reading the final paperwork on your trip to Gravesend and I spotted a familiar name. Smithy. I rang him, and he told me that he’d talked to you. Thank you for not bringing it up. That means a lot.’

  There was nothing to say to that. Anything I did say would make it worse.

  ‘I never thought I’d say this, but that was the easy part of the conversation. The rest is about Vicky. Is she fit to join you on the Dwarf hunt?’

  So far, I’d only smelled the whisky. I took a tiny sip and savoured it.

  ‘I’m not a psychologist, Hannah. With a Xanax, probably, but they do take the edge off things. Long term? I’d say that she needs therapy and, maybe, something like joining a martial arts class.’

  ‘She needs toughening up, you mean? Are you going to tell her that?’

  ‘She’s tough enough. I think she needs practice going through the pain barrier. She’s done it, but only when the chips are down, and she’s paid a high price for that. You know what I’d do in your shoes?’

  ‘Limp, probably. Your feet are huge. No, go on.’

  ‘Promote her to Watch Captain, conditional on undergoing a psych evaluation, then you can get someone else to tell her. If you make it a challenge, she’ll get through. And you can recruit a new Watch Officer then.’

  ‘Good. I like that. If everything goes well next week, that’s exactly what I’ll do.’

  ‘Next week?’

  ‘Tuesday. I’ve fixed it with Lloyd Flint for Tuesday morning, but that’s not all.’

  We were now getting to the really difficult bit. I could tell that because she gave me a tiny top-up.

  ‘Niði’s Halls are too risky for the two of you to handle on your own. I don’t want to broaden the circle beyond those who already know about the Codex Defanatus, and that doesn’t leave many.’

  ‘Hannah, I don’t have a problem with Rick. He had my back in the ambush, remember? He can lead the operation for all I care.’

  She was already shaking her head. ‘Not Rick, though I’m glad that you two are good. I’ve asked Desirée, and that’s why we’re on our own. Tennille stormed off to shout at her daughter and tell her not to go.’

  This needed an immediate drink. ‘Will she succeed in talking her out of it.’

  ‘You’ve seen Desi in action. You’ve had her in your house. What do you think?’

  ‘I think she’d walk over hot coals to look after Vicky, and I’ll be glad to have her. If you give her a temporary commission.’

  ‘Good one. I like that.’ She laughed until she saw my face. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

  ‘I don’t joke about staying alive. I’m not going to argue about it, but if I’m the ops commander, then everyone is either under orders or a passenger, and this isn’t an op for passengers.’

  Hannah gave it some thought. ‘That might be the only thing that puts her off, you know.’

  ‘Tell her she doesn’t have to call me sir unless Vicky does, and Vicky only does it when she’s pissed off with me.’

  ‘That might work. Leave it with me. I’ve got an incentive for you, anyway.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Wait there.’ She stood up and got some paperwork from her desk. ‘Here you are. Not two, but three tickets for the rearranged medal ceremony. Friday 22nd May at two o’clock. I’ve spoken to HMP Cairndale and they’ve said they’ll make sure that Ms Desai gets out before breakfast. They’ll put her on the eight o’clock from Lancaster, arriving at eleven. I know you wanted to meet her at the gates, but I need you here for a meeting. I hope this will be compensation.’ She gave me a smile. ‘And your parents can make it, too. And Vicky’s. I’m footing the bill for all of them, given the events last time.’

  I leaned over and took the tickets. Hannah was going the extra mile for me. ‘That means a lot. Thank you.’

  ‘Good. One last thing.’ She held up a printout. ‘You took a Volvo XC90 from the Druids, didn’t you, and you haven’t changed the registration to your name, yet.’

  Oh dear. I didn’t like the sound of that. ‘No, ma’am. Sorry.’

  ‘The lawyers dealing with Surwen’s estate have had a blizzard of parking tickets, speeding fines and congestion charge penalty notices. It took a while to land on my desk. Ruth can make this go away, but I need a sensible explanation, and if it’s Vicky’s flatmate or your disreputable uncle who’s responsible, they’ll have to take it on the chin.’

  ‘It’s Pramiti. I loaned her the car to get away from Clerkswell, and it looks as if she’s taken things a bit far.’

  Hannah gave me a dark look. ‘Do you think she’s up to no good?’

  ‘Undoubtedly, but … she’s got diplomatic protection. Well, divine protection. Up to a point.’

  ‘I’ll put a warning on the system. Next time she parks illegally, it’ll get towed away. I’ll tip off Eddie and Oscar as well. Right. There’s no point having a planning meeting, because there’s nothing to plan. I’ve no more idea what’s in those tunnels now than I did when we left Flint House, and there’s no trace of Irina, either. I’ve told Desirée to get in touch with you to arrange things.’

  This time, when she stood up, it was time to go.

  Alain was half way through a bottle of Bordeaux when I got to the Churchill Arms. He was hanging out with a couple of his colleagues from Praed’s Bank, and seemed to be in a good mood. He was twenty-three, had money in his pocket and it was Friday night. Why shouldn’t he be in a good mood? His friends drifted away when they saw me.

  I grabbed a glass. He filled it and raised his own. ‘Salut. To the Clarke family. I would say that I am in love with your sister, but I ’ave seen you shoot three men.’

  ‘Cheers. My father is still alive, so it’s him you have to answer to, not me.’

  ‘’Ow many people ’as ’e shot?’

  ‘None. None that I know of.’

  ‘Then I will answer to you, mon ami. She is so clever, so chic, so graceful that I cannot possibly get a job with ’er. That would be paradise.’

  ‘Are you sure you want a job with her? I only have to spend Christmas with her. You’d be stuck with her all day, every day.’

  ‘Non. I think she would give me all the shitty jobs to do, which is what I want.’

  He’d gone serious in the space of a sentence, like a downpour at Wimbledon. I looked over my shoulder to check that Cliff Richard wasn’t about to sing. ‘If that’s what you want, Alain, is there anything I can do to help?’

  He shook his head. ‘The less I know about ’er background, the better it is. If she thinks you ’ave been telling secrets, she won’t want to ’ave me around. You ’ave done enough. Merci, Conrad.’

  I sat back and enjoyed the Bordeaux. It was from the vineyard of a distant uncle, I think. Alain’s uncle, obviously. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ I said. ‘If she mentions my name at all, just say that I’ve taught you how to keep a secret. That should be a tick on the form.’

  ‘Again, thank you. Now, how is Victoria? She is well?’

  I once, mistakenly, tried to set them up on a date. Vicky was not impressed, and Alain said that she looked like “a ’orse”, which she does. A bit. On the other hand, Alain likes to play percentages. If young people still used little black books, his would run to several volumes.

  ‘She’s good. She’s very good. Are you not going out tonight?’

  He gave me a vintage Gallic shrug and checked his phone for a few seconds. When he looked up, he grinned. ‘It looks like I am going out,
after all. But we still ’ave time to finish the bottle. It is too good to waste.’

  I lifted my glass and drank to that.

  ‘Anybody fancy some pork scratchings before we head underground?’ I asked, as we made our way through the Black Country Museum complex on Tuesday morning.

  ‘Gross,’ said Vicky. ‘I can still taste me cooked breakfast, and what’s that smell? It was in the car? Is it you, Conrad?’

  It was me, but not me. If you see what I mean. It was something I was carrying. ‘Curried worms,’ I said. ‘That was the best piece of advice the Allfather gave me. Always carry curried worms underground.’

  ‘Does he always talk in riddles?’ said Desi to Vicky. They were doing that a lot – talking about me as if I weren’t there. Good job I don’t have problems with self-esteem.

  ‘Sadly, yes,’ said Vicky. ‘That’s him over there. Lloyd Flint.’

  ‘Go and say hello, Vicky. I need a moment with Desirée.’

  ‘What for?’ said Desi, surprised that her friend would just walk away and leave her. And that was why I needed a word. Vicky knows when I’m giving her an order, Desi doesn’t. I took a moment to buy a bag of scratchings, telling myself they were full of salt and protein. Could be useful underground.

  I coughed to get Desirée’s attention, then took out a small box and my car keys.

  ‘What?’ said Desi, looking at Vicky and the Gnome, not me.

  ‘Here,’ I said. ‘Your rank badge.’ I opened the box and showed her the pair of bronze pips that a second lieutenant is issued with. I’d bought them from a militaria shop yesterday, because Hannah had bottled out of a confrontation and delegated the power of field commission to me, saying that it was my idea and that I should sort it. I hate it when she does that.

  ‘What the fuck?’

  I had decided that I had one shot to get this right, and one way of doing it. I held the keys in one hand and the pips in the other. ‘You take a field commission or you go back to the car, Desirée. If you take the oath, I promise not to tell Vicky. That will be your decision.’

  ‘Why? So you can order me around?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She looked stunned. ‘You … you don’t order Vic around, so why me?’

  ‘I do, it’s just that I don’t make a fuss about it. Neither does she. Last chance…’

  I started to close the box with the brass pips inside with one hand and simultaneously held out the car keys with the other.

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she said. ‘Quickly.’

  ‘Repeat after me. “I Desirée Haynes, do swear by Almighty God…”

  ‘What was that all about?’ said Vicky. ‘And why did you end up saluting him?’

  I hung back to see what Desi would say.

  ‘He pressganged me,’ said Desirée. ‘Made me take the oath and salute once. “For the Queen,” he said. Then he gave me these.’ She quickly showed Vicky the box, but Vicky took it off her and opened it fully.

  ‘Just the one pair?’ said Vicky.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Vicky burst out laughing. ‘Now you have to salute me as well. I’m a captain and you’re only a second lieutenant.’

  Desirée snatched back the box and stuffed it in her pocket as Lloyd Flint came over. I’d pretty much ignored him at Flint House, but now it was time for a closer look. His suit was gone, and he fitted right in with our selection of outdoor wear and running gear. Gnomes don’t age like humans: they tend to stick at one point, then jump straight to the next. Sort of quantum ageing. If you see what I mean. Lloyd was at the point a human male would be just before he gets grey hair and needs glasses. In other words, he was in his prime.

  We greeted each other and he asked if we were ready. Vicky took some water to wash down her Xanax, and we were good to go. Lloyd took us to a small boat, proportioned like a very short barge with the middle cut out. It had the yellow handles for legging down the tunnels as well as a bulky housing at the stern. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘This one’s electric and fully charged. As soon as the tour boat comes out, we’ll nip in. Make yourselves comfortable.’

  I’m going to call Vicky and Desi the girls, if that’s okay with you. It’s what they called themselves. The girls took the seat furthest forward while I had a last smoke before we disappeared underground. I was looking for a waste bin when a much bigger barge glided out of the black mouth of the tunnel. It was full of small children in red school sweatshirts, all shouting. With that lot in full flow, the noise in that confined space must have been excruciating. I untied our boat and got in behind the girls. As soon as we left the quay, Vicky pointed to the brick wall above the tunnel entrance.

  ‘Wow,’ said Desi.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Look. Concentrate.’

  I reached out with my Sight, and I got it just before the black hole swallowed us up. On the retaining wall, above the footbridge, was the glowing red crest of Niði. I made out an anvil, of course, and the crossed short hammers of a Dwarf, but it was the bit above that really stood out: the Valknut, sign of Odin. Well, if anyone was entitled, it was Niði. Before I could comment, we were through the arch and into darkness. For about five seconds.

  ‘I can see a light,’ said Vicky. ‘That’s good.’

  The first part of the tunnel system is Lord Ward’s Tunnel. At 196 feet, you barely get going before you reach the open air again at Shirt’s Mill Basin. It would take longer if you had to leg it. A lot longer in my case.

  At the basin, trees were coming into leaf right the way down to the water, descending the steep limestone walls like the half-finished painting of a fairy grotto. It looked other-worldly until you saw the beach of mud outside an old mine entrance. In seconds we were into another, shorter tunnel, and Lloyd slowed the engine so that we could drift into the Castle Mill Basin, another oasis of green.

  This was even bigger, big enough for the tour boats to make a 90 degree turn into the much longer tunnels to the left. We headed right and pulled up at a low dam. ‘They put this here to seal off the Wren’s Nest Tunnel,’ said Lloyd. ‘The system is open to any boat, and some idiots would go down there if they could.’

  ‘Not that we’re idiots, or anything,’ said Vicky.

  Lloyd used a strong arm to hold the barge steady while we climbed on to the dam. Desi stared into the tunnel. ‘We’re not going to swim, are we? No way.’

  ‘Can’t swim in there. Too shallow. You can wade if you want, or get in the boat. Hang on while I tie this up.’

  He stared into the Wren’s Nest Tunnel. This one really was black, with nothing to see beyond the first few metres. He curled his arms like a weight lifter, and a small boat, just big enough for four, floated gently towards the dam. Impressive.

  ‘Where’s the oars?’ said Desirée.

  ‘Or the engine,’ said Vicky. ‘Either would be good, but an engine would be better.’

  Desi and I braced the boat against the wall so that Lloyd could get in. ‘Rope line,’ he said.

  He pushed us away from the wall and fished under his seat. The boat rocked alarmingly as he found a metal hook with a short wooden handle and reached up. The hook glowed with Lux, and as it did, a knotted rope of energy, hanging from the ceiling, became visible. He put the hook down and opened his arms.

  Slowly at first, the boat moved out of the light and into the tunnel. Lloyd’s breathing got more ragged until he stopped and relaxed. The boat had picked up speed, and carried on moving without his intervention. As we passed a brick support, a lightstick flared into life. ‘We call it drawing the boat,’ he said. ‘There’s not many who can do it any more. Another minute and we’ll be there.’

  We were all trying not to move. No one wants to rock the boat, do they? After the third lightstick, he opened his arms again and took an Artefact from under his fleece, a flat iron disk. He held it up, and a pattern on the disk glowed with golden light – Niði’s crest. Ahead and to the left, a section of rock shimmered and changed into a portcullis gate that was already rising
out of the water.

  ‘Duck,’ said Lloyd. The boat turned towards the gate before the portcullis had fully risen. We scrambled to get down, and I had to lie on top of Desi to stop the boat overbalancing. She was not amused. ‘I never get that right,’ said Lloyd. ‘I’m always going too fast. Never mind, nearly there.’

  There was natural light ahead, and then we were in a tiny basin, a fraction the size of Castle Mill. Wesley Lloyd was right – the cliff walls were so sheer that only trained climbers could come down here, and I’ve no doubt that the top was magickally hidden.

  Niði’s dock was longer than a full-sized barge and ten feet deep. The roof sloped down to an elaborately carved door. Even after thirty years, you could see soot marks on the rock from the fire, but thankfully no bloodstains. We got out of the boat and stared at the door. This time I didn’t need to use my Sight. It positively glowed with Lux.

  ‘I’ll get the stuff we arranged,’ said Lloyd. ‘I brought it down this morning. Didn’t want to overload the boat.’ He walked off to a small heap under a plastic tarpaulin at the far end of the dock, and we turned our attention back to the doors.

  Dwarves like stone. After all, they’re made of it. In a way. Stone and rock do not like to move. They like to sit still. They make good walls, but they do not make good doors, because doors are twin-natured. Doors have to admit and bar; a door that does one but not the other isn’t a door. The doors to Dwarven Halls are made of stone. Show-offs.

  The anvil and crossed-hammers was etched into each half of the door, and the Valknut shone out from the keystone above. Desi approached the doors and held her fingers towards the engraving, a look of wonder on her face.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got the key,’ said Lloyd. ‘Here we go.’ He laid out an array of kit on the floor. Half a dozen pre-charged lightsticks, bottles of water, a couple of robust Thermos flasks and a piece of electronic kit that looked familiar. Aah, yes. A mobile repeater. I’ve used one underground before, but surely the Halls would be far too far from the surface? Lloyd picked it up and went to the wall, where a tiny piece of trunking ended in a connector.