by Mike Shevdon
For an organisation based on secrecy, it’s not hard to find. There is a large building at the edge of Cheltenham in Gloucestershire with clear signposting to the entries and exits. It has car parks around it for employees and visitors, and entry gates at various points around the perimeter. It’s only when you start looking closely at it that you begin to see that careful thought has gone into its construction.
The car parks have pedestrian turnstiles which require an access card and a code to enter or exit, the implication being that people are counted in, and counted out again. Once inside the perimeter, you have to go through security to reach the building itself. There are more gates, each monitored. The building itself is a giant ring – toroidal is the term, like a doughnut, a nickname used by local people for the place. The roof of the building has a curved shield on it, it’s not clear from outside what that’s hiding, but it makes entry via the roof nigh impossible. There is an inner courtyard, within the ring, but that’s only visible from above. All this we could see from the top of the hill about a mile away, using the powerful binoculars we’d brought with us.
“What do you think?” I asked Garvin.
I’d expected him to object when Amber reported my intention of going to Cheltenham to discover who it was that was trying to kill me. Instead he’d volunteered to come along.
“Interesting,” he said. “It’s smooth, clean and has very limited points of entry. The frontage is glass, but I would expect that to be reinforced, possibly bomb-proof. It’s a literal interpretation of circles of secrecy. You see the buildings around the outside? They’ll be administration, accounts, facilities, that sort of thing. On the outward facing side of the main building will be the public areas – meeting rooms, canteen, and anything else which isn’t privileged. Raw information will arrive and will travel further inwards the more it’s analysed and correlated. In the centre, possibly underground, you would find the clever bits – the really secret stuff.”
“I think I can get inside the building,” I said. I can get past the fences and the perimeter, and once I’m there I can walk in with everyone else.”
“This is not the same as gaining free access to the Underground,” said Garvin. “There will be multiple security systems monitoring each other. As soon as you use one of the gates it will look for a record of your movements. When it finds you’ve just arrived in the middle of the building, it will raise the alarm, quietly and efficiently. The building will be locked down before you know it.”
“I can get out if I have to.”
“I believe you, but at what cost? Even if you get inside, what are you intending to do?” he asked.
“Find out who tried to kill me, and why?”
“You think they’re just going to tell you? Maybe it’s posted on a noticeboard somewhere? The information you gained from Sam has led you here,” said Garvin. “But that’s all you have. Hundreds of people work here, possibly thousands. Most of them will know about their bit, and nothing else. That’s what secret organisations are like.”
“So your real reason for coming was to dissuade me from doing anything.”
“Rash or careless action is counter-productive. I came to offer my advice, and to see if I could help. I also came because someone tried to kill one of my Warders, and I take exception to that.”
“So what should I do?”
“If you break in, you’ll only provoke them, and to what end? It’ll prompt them into action and they will see themselves as the aggrieved party. At the moment, all you have is a link between two iron-tainted bullets, Sam’s attempt to kill you, and a couple of names, plus the mention of GCHQ. It’s enough to ask some questions, but be careful about jumping to conclusions.”
From the top of the hill we could see the winter sun sinking below the horizon, and as it did, the car-park floodlights around the complex below came on. The offices facing the outside were brightly lit against the failing light. It all spoke of an organisation that operated twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week.
“At the moment you have a legitimate grievance, which they should answer. Make them come to you,” suggested Garvin
“And how do I do that?
He grinned, “It’s time to request a meeting with Secretary Carler.”
“In that case,” I told him. “There’s somewhere else I want to visit before we do that.”
On the eve of the solstice, the High Court of the Feyre was in session for the last time before the turn of the year.
“We’ve been locked in disagreement for too long,” said Krane to the assembled High Court. “We all acknowledge the situation, but we can’t continue like this indefinitely. In the interests of moving things forward, I would like to propose that we shelve this issue for the foreseeable future and move on to other matters.”
“To what end?” asked Kimlesh. “The issue of the mixed-race fey remains unresolved.”
“We have other business apart from the mongrels,” said Teoth. “It’s taken too much time already. We’re almost at the solstice and it’s time we moved forward.”
“I agree,” said Blackbird.
A murmur went around the arc of the chairs.
“You do?” said Krane.
“I would like to discuss finance,” said Blackbird.
“You don’t understand,” said Krane. “Without the establishment of the Eighth Court, you are no longer part of these discussions. We will not be discussing anything with you, let alone finance.”
“I have an established court,” she said, “or I will by tomorrow. It was the solstice tomorrow, you said, Lord Teoth?”
Teoth blustered. “Impossible,” he said. “You need a home for the court, members sworn in. You don’t even have a room of your own, never mind a court.”
“I have one now,” Blackbird said. “We are moving to Grey's Court in Oxfordshire tomorrow. Court members will be blood-sworn on the solstice night. By the turn of the year there will be eight courts, not seven.”
“Grey's Court? I’ve never heard of it,” said Krane.
“Is that a requirement, now, that you have heard of it?” asked Blackbird. “If it is, you have not mentioned it previously.”
“This is extremely timely,” said Barthia.
“Are you implying that I am being less than truthful?” asked Blackbird. “I would have thought my words were enough?”
“It’s not that,” said Barthia. “This is all very sudden, to be reprieved on the eve of the deadline.”
“My Lords Teoth and Krane gave me very little time to meet their stringent requirements,” said Blackbird. “It has been a challenge, as they intended, but we have risen to it and we have our court. We will celebrate the solstice as the Eighth Court of the Feyre.”
“That’s preposterous,” said Teoth. “How can they swear a blood oath if they’re not even fey?”
Kimlesh leaned forward. “You raised that point some time ago, before the issue of establishment came up. We dealt with it then.”
“Not to my satisfaction,” said Teoth.
“You agreed, Lord Teoth, did you not?” said Yonna. “Which was why we moved on to the issue of establishment. There would have been little point in discussing establishment if the members of the court were unable to swear fealty.”
Mellion made a complex gesture involving placing the tips of his fingers in and then flicking them out of his palm.
“Mellion’s right,” said Kimlesh. “You cannot scatter pigeons and eat them.”
“Or eat cake and have it,” agreed Blackbird. “Can we discuss finance now?”
Krane stood. “This is a trick!” he said. “They seek to dupe us with hollow words and hidden meanings.”
“I mean what I say,” said Blackbird. “I will have my court. Tomorrow.”
“I want to see it,” said Teoth. “I want to touch it.”
“Is my word not good enough?” asked Blackbird. “Are we to distrust each other’s words now?” She looked around the room. “For if that is the natu
re of things then I would want to visit each of your courts, so that I may establish that they are more or less than my own.”
“You are welcome at mine,” said Kimlesh.
“You’ve seen mine,” said Yonna.
Teoth pointed a finger at Blackbird. “You will set foot in the Nixine Court over my dead body.”
“Then how do I know the Nixine Court exists?” asked Blackbird. She appealed to those around her. “How do any of us?”
“Of course it exists,” said Teoth. “Unlike your fabrication, the Nixine Court has been an integral part of the Courts of the Feyre for generations uncounted.”
“Has anyone in living memory seen it,” asked Blackbird. “Apart from you, my Lord?” Once again she looked around the faces. Even Krane had to admit with a shake of his head that he hadn’t.
“I invite you, all of you.” said Blackbird. “Once the solstice is past and we have our court, you must come and be welcome there. We will have a celebration that the High Court will remember for centuries to come, providing of course that we have some money,” said Blackbird.
“Very clever,” said Krane. “By giving you money for your feast, we acknowledge the court, but we can’t see it until you have your money, and it’s acknowledged.”
“You don’t expect to be fed on air and magic, do you?” said Blackbird. “That kind of feast tends to leave one hungry.”
“There’s a sleight of hand here,” said Krane. “I can taste it.”
“There is a sleight of hand,” said Blackbird. “It’s called moving the target. I have met your requirements and your immediate response is to question my veracity. Then to place new requirements in my way. If this were any other member of this court, there would be uproar.”
“You’re not a member of this court,” said Teoth.
“I am tomorrow,” said Blackbird.
“Be careful,” said Krane, standing. “Tomorrow is yet a day away. Much can change between sunrises.”
“Is that a threat?” asked Blackbird.
“It’s an observation,” said Krane. “Come, Teoth. We have much to discuss. Will you join us, Barthia?” He met Barthia’s gaze and for a moment something unspoken passed between them.
“No,” she said. “I will stay.”
“Very well,” said Krane. “Teoth?”
They marched from the court, opening the great doors for themselves for once, and slamming them shut behind them.
“Well, that was unexpected,” said Kimlesh.
“Was it?” said Blackbird, breathing out. “I’ve been looking forward to that for a long time.”
Alex stood in the darkness. The moon was approaching fullness and it lent a hazy softness to the view across the fields. The temperature was dropping fast, and the mist was rising, adding a further soft-focus to the view and yet she didn’t go inside for a coat. She’d made a habit of coming here, watching how the seasons stripped the trees of leaves and then coated them in white. She would go inside when she got too cold to stay.
She ought to be tired. She’d worked all day, helping Lesley shift stuff into vans so that they could move it in the morning. Alex watched carefully, knowing Lesley was pregnant, and wondering whether she ought to take it easier. Shouldn’t pregnancy be lots of lying around having your feet rubbed, or was it this mad burst of activity? Is that what it made you do?
She’d been to the new place now. She’d wandered around it, touching the surfaces, drawing lines in the dust, getting the feel of the place. It was strange, as if there were someone waiting in the wings to enter, like a stage-play. You felt like the lights had gone up, but no cast had appeared. She’d found the article about Lettice, like a misspelled salad vegetable, and thought it was funny until Blackbird explained that it was an old spelling of Letticia, and the Letticia Knollys had been the lady of the house long ago. Personally she preferred Lettice.
“Aren’t you cold?” The voice was behind her, and it made her jump, but she hid it as well as she could.
“Hello Tate,” she said. “Do you enjoy creeping up on people?”
“Professional habit,” he said, leaning on the fence to look over the fields. “Pretty, isn’t it?”
“It has its charms,” she said. “I should be going in.” She stood back from the fence.
“Someone was in my room,” he said.
She froze. “Were they?”
“While I wasn’t there, someone went in and moved things.”
“Did they?”
“Why?” he asked.
She waited, but he didn’t say anything else. He was like a rock or a tree – just there, still, waiting.
“I thought… I thought I’d lost something,” she said.
“So it was you,” he said.
“You didn’t know?”
“I do now,” he said. “What did you lose?”
“I’m not sure,” she said, too quickly.
“Did you lose anything, or were you just taking a look around?”
“I told you,” she said. “I’m not sure.”
He was stillness again.
“Sorry,” she apologised.
“What were you looking for?” he asked again.
“I don’t know. I didn’t take anything, I promise. I thought maybe…”
“What?”
“Nothing. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.” Now she felt like shit. “I should go.”
He returned to the state of stillness. It was like looking at a photograph of someone. It didn’t look natural. “Tate?” It was just the instinct to make him move, make him come alive again.
“Yes?”
“Have you ever been in love?” As soon as she asked, she regretted it. What was she thinking? Even to have mentioned it was stupid. What was she thinking?
“Yes,” he said.
It was not the answer she was expecting. The one she was expecting was, why do you ask?
What she wanted to say was, who with, but came out was, “What was it like?”
He stared at the fields for a long time. She thought he wouldn’t answer, but after a while he did. “It was like drinking honey and finding ground glass in it.”
“Did she hurt you?” she asked.
“Not intentionally,” he said. “But the effect was the same.”
“I would never…” but then she swallowed her words. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve really got to go.”
“Where?” he asked.
“What do you mean, where?”
“Where have you got to go?”
Alex looked at him. “To my room, I suppose. It’s cold. I’ll catch my death.”
“No you won’t,” he said. “Why do you run away?”
“I’m not running,” she said, anger tinting her words.
“Then, what are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m going inside. I can’t stay out here all night.”
“No,” he said.
She waited for something else, some clue, some tiny indication, but it was like he’d merged with the fence and become part of the scenery. “How do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?” he said.
“Disappear in front of me while I’m watching you. Where do you go?”
“Professional habit,” he repeated. “You want me to show you how?”
“Sure,” she said.
He leaned back, shrugging his shoulders as if he was loosening part of a cliff in a landslide. “Rest your hands on the fence,” he said.
She did as he said, looking at the fields laid out before her. He moved around behind her, resting his hands either side of hers. She could feel the warmth radiating from him on her back, though he did not touch her. “Watch the moonlight,” he said. “Let it seep into your bones, slow your heart.”
Her heart was anything but slow. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” she said, listening to her heart thump in her ears.
“Just relax,” he said. “Let it seep into you.”
She was more than conscious of the man
behind her. His arms encircled hers, inches apart. She felt the heat of him behind her. She flushed, no longer cold. She twisted around, “I’d really better go…” And there he was, facing her. His long hair draped around his shoulders, the gleam of moonlight as it caught the reflection in his eyes. “Oh God,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her eyes searched his for some sign, some indication. She wanted to reach up and touch his face, to see if felt the way her dreams told her it would.
“Tate?” she said.
“Yes?” he answered. She could feel his warm breath. There was a scent of musk and earth rising from him.
“Will you kiss me?”
He looked down at her for a moment. Oh shit! She thought. What did I have to say that for?
And then his lips touched hers. He was unexpectedly warm and soft, and she leaned into him, not wanting it to end. After a moment, he withdrew. “Like that?” he asked.
“Uh huh,” she said. “Again.”
He kissed her again, this time enfolding her in his arms and pressing her against him. She felt her knees give way, but he held her up. Her hands were searching for a way under his shirt, searching for skin. She slipped them under his shirt and found warmth and a gentle roughness. He released her, but she could not let go.
“Alex?”
“Uh huh?”
“Are you sure you want this?”
She pressed her lips to his again. “Yes,” she said, breaking away for a moment. She could feel his body responding to hers. The rush in her was impossible to defy. It was like the tide. She was incapable of resisting.
“Oh God! You’re going to have to take me somewhere.”
“Where?” His breath tingled across her neck.
“Anywhere,” she breathed. “But now.”
EIGHTEEN
When I opened my eyes, I knew something was different. I was lying on my side, and the dawn light was just starting to brighten the room from behind the curtains, which in these shortest of days meant that I’d slept in. Still, there was something else. I rolled over to find myself being observed by two pale eyes.