The baggage hall was now deserted apart from the man who’d preceded her. Luggage carousels rotated, carrying suitcases round and round in an endless quest for their owners. The noise of combat coming from the entrance hall gave Irene a renewed surge of energy, and she headed for the far door.
‘Hold it – right there!’ The words alone wouldn’t have stopped Irene, but the bullet cracking past her did. She raised her hands and turned to see the thug stalking towards her.
He was such a truly perfect example of the genus Thug, species American Thirties Gangster, that he had to be Fae. The slicked-back hair, the double-breasted suit, the fedora, the polished wingtip shoes – and, of course, the ready gun in his hand. ‘Now I don’t see no one round here who knows a thing,’ he said, ‘except for you, lady. So you tell me who you’re working for. The Cardinal? The Grail King? The Orisha? The Shogun? Or is it someone else?’
The effect of the Language hadn’t worn off yet. That was good. Once he realized that she could affect his mind by talking to him – well, that was the point when people became nervous. Therefore dangerous. Unfortunately, the Language wouldn’t stop a bullet mid-air. ‘Powerful names,’ she said carefully. ‘If you think I work for one of them, then you shouldn’t get in my way.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ He yawned; gold-capped teeth showed. But his eyes stayed on her, cold and focused. ‘I’ll make a deal. You were with that other guy, right? So you’re travelling as a pair. Drop him, take me instead – we both get to see Mr Nemo. We both win.’
‘He’s not the kind of guy who likes to be told “no”,’ Irene said, backing towards the grinding luggage conveyors.
‘Neither am I, baby,’ the thug answered. He took a step nearer her. ‘Now look, I’ve made you a good offer. Do I need to start shooting a few non-essential bits off you, or should I go to your friend instead?’
He sounded confident enough, but there was an edge of urgency to his words. It was only a matter of time before someone else found her and made their own offer.
She opened her mouth as if to agree, then gasped, looking over his shoulder.
It was one of the oldest tricks in the book, but it had become a cliché because it generally worked. He turned, bringing up his gun.
And Irene dived for cover behind the conveyor belt. ‘Luggage, hit that man!’ she shouted in the Language.
She couldn’t see with her head down, but the noises were fairly descriptive. When silence fell and she raised her head, there was just a single shoed foot protruding from underneath a heap of suitcases.
Fortunately her own small briefcase, which had been caught up in the Language’s effects, was near the top of the pile. She extricated it with a yank, then turned at the sound of footsteps. Kai came skidding through the far doorway. ‘Over here!’ she called.
Then she saw the people a few paces behind him.
There were doors between the baggage area and the exit hall. They were the heavy sort of folding metal doors that were saved for emergencies, activated by computer controls rather than by anything as simple as someone swinging them shut. At the moment they were drawn back and locked in place.
Irene set her jaw. That was about to change.
She braced herself. ‘Folding doors between the luggage hall and the exit hall,’ she ordered, ‘close and lock!’
That cost her. It was harder work than changing a single person’s perception or throwing suitcases. Grinding metal echoed through the room as the doors strained against their current position, screeching against the floor. They slammed together barely a foot behind Kai, shielding him from a fusillade of blows and gunfire.
Kai wiped a line of blood from his forehead. He’d lost his jacket somewhere in the brawl. ‘Are you all right?’ he demanded.
‘I’ll do,’ Irene said, trying to ignore the incipient headache. Really, this was quite a minor use of the Language. It must be the high chaos level getting to her. ‘But unfortunately I’ve made it very clear that the Library’s involved. Let’s hope that doesn’t come back to bite us.’
Out on the tarmac, there was a row of planes – but only one had a green stripe on it. The fresh air blowing from the sea was a relief after the sweaty atmosphere of the airport interior, and Irene’s headache was starting to recede. They ran to the plane, shouting for the pilot; a cockpit window slid open, and an unshaven face peered out. ‘What are you wanting, love?’ His accent was pure London, incongruous in the middle of the Caribbean.
‘A ride. For two passengers!’ A sudden burst of noise came from the building, suggesting that the doors had been broken through and people were about to arrive. Irene added, ‘And we need it fast!’
‘Where to?’
‘Denmark!’
‘Just you wait a minute, love, I’ll be right with you.’
‘I’m not sure we have a minute,’ Irene said, bouncing from foot to foot.
A hatch in the side of the plane creaked open, and a rope ladder spilled out. ‘Here,’ another unshaven man said, peering out. ‘And make it quick.’
Irene had learned how to climb rope ladders in gym at school – the other girls had often objected, but she considered it a useful survival skill. Kai swarmed up after her, and the second crew member pulled the ladder in, slamming the hatch shut. A few bullets pinged off the outside of the plane. ‘Better belt yourself in,’ he recommended, pointing at a row of seats.
Irene dropped into a seat with a sigh of relief, snapping the seatbelt closed. While the seaplane was battered-looking, with pieces of cargo lashed into place on the walls and floor of the passenger area, the seats themselves were surprisingly modern – presumably a later addition. She peered out of the window, not sure whether she wanted to see what was going on or not.
‘Get in here, Jake,’ the first man yelled from the cockpit.
The shouts from outside receded, drowned out by the noise of propellers as the plane lurched off the ground and clambered into the air.
Kai leaned back in his chair, ignoring his seatbelt. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’m glad that’s over.’
Irene had to agree. ‘Though it’s depressing that being chased out of an airport by a mob of gangsters, ninjas and assorted weaponry experts can be classed as standard operating procedure. It says something about the nature of Library fieldwork. Or about the sort of Library fieldwork we keep getting.’
‘They were a very mixed lot.’ Kai frowned. ‘That woman with the poisoned nails – no, she didn’t scratch me, don’t worry – she wasn’t bad at all. But some of them were hopeless fighters. What could have brought them all together in one place?’
The small plane throbbed with the noise of the propellers and the wind outside. It was oddly soporific, and Irene found herself yawning. ‘I think they all wanted to see Mr Nemo,’ she offered.
‘But why all at once? Is he normally in such demand?’ Kai yawned as well, stretching and then relaxing. ‘I wonder . . . My uncle Ao Shun would sometimes conduct job interviews like that, in order to thin out the candidates . . .’
His voice was slowing, blurring. The passenger hold was darker now. Irene couldn’t keep her eyes open. ‘Kai?’ she slurred, her voice sounding odd to her own ears.
She slipped into darkness, with sleep swallowing her up like the ocean.
When Irene woke, she found herself laid out like an effigy in a church, her hands folded on her chest. But the softness underneath her was a comfortable bed rather than a cold tombstone, and she could hear another person breathing.
For the moment she kept her eyes closed, so as not to alert anyone she was awake. The other person was asleep or meditating, judging from the slowness of their breaths. They were right next to her, too – probably on the same bed. There was a deeper undercurrent of sound in the room; the whisper of an air conditioner. Her shoes were gone and she was barefoot.
All right. So she’d been drugged on the plane. Probably Kai as well. And they were now somewhere else. Somewhere with good air conditioning.
She needed more in
formation than she could get with her eyes shut. Simmering anger pushed out immediate fear. If they’d been abducted and were being held for ransom or sale, she was going to make some very dramatic and valid points about why that was a bad idea.
She sat up, sinking in the deep softness of the bed, and looked around. Kai was indeed fast asleep next to her. He was slumbering so peacefully that he could have been thousands of miles away in his father’s court, with nothing to worry about till scurrying servants brought the morning tea. It was a double bed – an interesting assumption by whoever had put them there – and the counterpane was silk. The bedroom beyond was luxurious, with abstract paintings hanging on the walls, expensive-looking rugs strewn across the floor, and French windows facing out onto the open sea beyond. Closed French windows. There were two subsidiary doors too. One stood half-open and clearly led into a bathroom, while the other could be . . . more interesting. And was probably locked. A big television screen covered a solid six feet of wall, but for the moment it wasn’t on, and there weren’t any obvious controls, remote or otherwise.
The crook of Irene’s right elbow was aching just enough to make itself felt. She rolled up her jacket sleeve and, as she’d suspected, there was the faint red mark of a hypodermic needle. That made sense. Gas her and Kai while they were belted in their seats, then deliver a more specific sedative once they were unconscious.
She reached across and shook Kai by the shoulder. ‘Kai, time to wake up.’
No reaction.
She shook harder. ‘Kai, wake up. We’ve been kidnapped.’
He groaned something, eyelids flickering open for a second before he relaxed back into his doze.
‘Kai! There’s been a palace revolution and the peasants are attacking!’
Kai gave a deep shuddering sigh and finally opened his eyes properly. ‘Execute them all in the public square,’ he mumbled, clearly still half-asleep.
‘Such a pity,’ a male voice said. ‘I must apologize. We have very little information about the proper dosage for dragons.’
Irene spun towards the source of the voice, her heart slowing as she realized it was coming from the television, which had silently turned itself on. Beside her, Kai shook his head as he tried to throw off the last of his sleep, his eyes clearing.
The man on the screen was seated in front of a glass pane which either fronted some huge indoor aquarium or was somehow set into the sea itself. A shoal of red and silver fish passed behind him, swooping past like a flight of birds – but they didn’t distract the eye from the man in the chair. He was heavy-set, with drooping jowls, but his small keen eyes watched her intently. His suit was white linen, and he wore a Panama hat tilted sideways on his bald head. A whiskey tumbler and decanter rested on a small table next to him. Irene suspected that he might be powerful enough to present himself in multiple different shapes, as some Fae could, but they would all display the same keynotes of personal overindulgence and wealth. She might never know his real face – just the image that popular culture associated with manipulators and schemers. ‘Mr Nemo, I presume,’ she said neutrally.
‘And I know your identities, of course. I trust you will forgive this communication by videolink, your highness. I do not wish to meet you in person.’
‘Oh, I have nothing against you,’ Kai said coldly, ‘except for the way you have drugged and kidnapped us.’
‘Yes. I should explain.’ Mr Nemo fished out a red silk handkerchief and mopped his forehead. ‘My situation at the moment is a little awkward. Please believe me when I say that I have absolutely no desire to gain you as an enemy – either of you, or the organizations which you represent. In fact, I hope you will bear in mind how quickly I arranged your visit, as a token of my goodwill.’
Irene wished she had some way of knowing whether this speech was sincere, or the sort of fast talk which went with unmissable bargains and items for sale off the back of a lorry, no questions asked. ‘Why don’t you want to meet Kai in person?’ she enquired instead.
The ice cubes in Mr Nemo’s glass clinked as he picked it up. ‘Miss Winters, I don’t like people to be able to find me. I’m sure you know just as well as I do that dragons can locate people whom they’ve met before. I’d rather not give him that ability. Is that acceptable?’
Irene glanced at Kai. ‘Is it?’ she asked. She had to get the book off Mr Nemo. But if Kai wasn’t prepared to tolerate these conditions, then she’d have to do it without his help.
Kai paused. For a moment Irene thought that he was going to say no, but then he shrugged. ‘While I prefer to meet people face to face, your caution is understandable. For the moment I accept your conditions. But I am still waiting for an explanation for our situation.’
He had donned his political, courtly persona, and Irene felt a flash of pride that he was able to behave so politely to a Fae. Of course, he was probably daydreaming about dropping Mr Nemo into the sea from a height of several thousand feet, but that was fair enough. She was having similar thoughts herself.
‘Perhaps we could discuss the reasons for your visit first?’ Mr Nemo suggested. ‘There might even be a minor discount arranged, for the inconvenience you’ve been caused.’
Kai gestured to Irene. ‘Miss Winters here is the negotiator. I am simply her escort.’
Irene donned her own best poker face. ‘The Library is interested in obtaining a particular book and I’ve been sent to open negotiations.’ She knew she mustn’t make her request look too urgent – even if it was. If Mr Nemo realized just how desperate the situation was, and how far she’d go to get her hands on that book, then he’d charge an unthinkably high price. And she’d have to pay it. There were some people, some places, which she would not lose to chaos.
Mr Nemo’s eyes glinted, the only sign of animation on his heavy-fleshed face. ‘I’m always delighted to oblige the Library. What are you seeking?’
‘The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor, an Egyptian text, Middle Kingdom period,’ Irene said. ‘From the world that we classify as Gamma-017. It’s in your catalogue.’
‘Excuse me just a moment.’ Mr Nemo turned to his left and an unobtrusive young man stepped forward, offering him a brochure similar to the one which Coppelia had shown Irene.
Mr Nemo flicked through the pages, frowning slightly, then his mouth widened into a smile. It wasn’t an encouraging smile – or rather, it wasn’t encouraging if one hoped to negotiate a good deal. It was the sort of expression which went with the poetic tag, And welcomes little fishes in, With gently smiling jaws. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That one. May I congratulate you on your excellent taste?’
‘You’re far too kind,’ Irene said guardedly. So far this hadn’t gone beyond the normal boundaries of bargaining. In fact, it was refreshingly familiar. She warned herself to be careful. ‘Have you read it yourself?’
‘I’m afraid not. I really don’t have time for that sort of thing. I find it far more interesting to negotiate prices for them.’
Irene felt herself judging him for his slight to her beloved books. But she reminded herself that he was Fae, and that his archetype as a fixer would be shaping his personal tastes and hobbies – along with the rest of his life. Why would he care about a single story, even if it was unique? ‘While I don’t wish to seem rude, the whole kidnapping and drugging business has cut into my schedule. If we could discuss the price?’
‘I’m sure that a well-known and well-respected Librarian like yourself has a great many resources,’ Mr Nemo suggested. ‘I’d be glad to sign a contract for some future services or assistance on your part, to be specified at a later date . . .’
‘While that does sound very tempting,’ Irene lied, ‘I’ve been given specific instructions to only engage in quid pro quo bargains – an object for an object, or an object for a specifically defined service. In fact, I’ve been told that all previous bargains by the Library were made strictly on that basis.’
Mr Nemo chuckled. ‘Ah well, you can’t blame a man for trying.’
‘
I wouldn’t expect any less from a businessman like yourself,’ Irene flattered.
‘I hope you’ll understand that I can’t give you an immediate answer,’ Mr Nemo continued. ‘I need to consider what the Library could give me.’
‘Of course,’ Irene said. She suppressed her disappointment. This was never going to be resolved in two minutes of conversation, she reminded herself. But she was so close . . .
‘I’m certainly not going to ask you to stay shut up in that suite while I’m reviewing my collection for possible gaps. It could take a few hours,’ Mr Nemo said affably. ‘Do take a stroll! Look at my aquariums!’ He gestured at the wall of glass behind him, where an octopus waved distant tentacles, as if in wiggly semaphore warning. ‘Have a snack. My servants will be glad to bring you any food or drink you’d like. Take a swim, even! I have some excellent indoor pools. I understand that you had to leave your luggage behind at the airport, so please feel free to use the wardrobes that I’ve supplied. I guarantee absolutely no obligation on your part. Call it some small compensation for the inconvenience that you suffered earlier.’
‘Yes, about that – you did say that you were going to explain.’
‘I’m hosting a small dinner party tonight,’ Mr Nemo said. ‘A very exclusive one. Unfortunately word’s got out, and a great many people want to invite themselves . . . You must understand, I’m sure. We have similar problems in that respect. There are many who’d try to access the Library, if they thought they had the slightest chance of succeeding.’ His gaze moved to Kai, though he had the tact not to say, Even dragons. ‘My usual arrangements for guests have been somewhat compromised, so I’m having to take more precautions than usual.’
The Secret Chapter Page 6