So I could, even if the effort had worn me out. It was a start, a sign of something reconnecting, a cog turning one notch and clicking solidly into place. The portrait was complete, a good likeness too, so good that a part of me wanted to take up the pencil again and gouge out the subject’s eyes.
‘Wonder Boy.’
For a second I thought Becky had thrown her voice, but the voice came from the doorway where Kate Stone stood looking in.
‘Sorry, am I intruding?’ she said. ‘They told me I’d find you here, and I wondered how you were doing, Ben. You were in a real state last night.’
‘Was that only last night?’ I said. ‘Seems like weeks ago.’
‘Mind if I join you? Only a quick hello ‘cause I can’t stay long. There’s a big meeting downstairs soon.’
Becky was quickly on her feet, straightening her clothes, refastening her hair with a scrunchie. ‘Sure. That’s fine. I was leaving, anyway.’
‘You don’t have to go,’ I said. ‘They have enough chairs.’
‘No, there’s too much to do. Busy busy busy. You know how it is.’
‘Well, thanks for coming, and for helping.’ I offered the sketch pad. ‘Will you take this to Mr October?’
‘He’ll be up to see you in a while. Give it to him then. And I didn’t really help, Ben. You did it all by yourself.’
On her way out she passed Kate without a word or a glance. Kate waited while Becky’s footsteps faded down the corridor, then came to the bedside, not sitting but leaning over to see the portrait.
‘That’s terrific, Ben. You’re so good at this. Who’s he?’
‘A demon called Luther Vileheart.’
‘Right. The one the Ministry’s looking for. Is that how he looks now? The pictures I’ve seen of him aren’t anything like this. You can’t always tell from a face, though, can you, what’s really behind it.’
For some reason that reminded me of the question I’d meant to ask Mr October. Did Becky know something, and was that why she’d been so cool towards Kate just now?
‘Kate?’
‘Yes, Ben?’
‘About last night. . .’
‘You don’t have to thank me,’ she said.
‘I wanted to. But tell me . . . what happened after you left?’
The question caught her off-guard. She took her time before answering. ‘I did like I said. I called it in.’
‘Where? To dispatch?’
‘No, to my team. They were still in the field. Why?’
‘No reason.’
‘There must be a reason to ask something like that. Did I do something wrong?’
‘Dunno,’ I said. ‘You tell me.’
This time she didn’t answer at all. Her eyes became timid and mouse-like and her smile drained away.
‘You see,’ I said. ‘I’ve been putting two and two together and it keeps coming up five. If you called in, how come Professor Rictus found me first? He came straight to me. And how come Mr October didn’t hear of it? It was the Shuffleheads who traced me in the end.’
Kate looked shell-shocked. ‘But I did. I did what I said.’ She started edging back from the bed. ‘Why are you doing this, Ben?’
‘You were here the day we had the lockdown, weren’t you? The day Sukie was screened.’
‘Yeah, I was here some of the time. So were a lot of others. Half the staff were called in, remember? That doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Well, it means something to me. Yes, there were others here. But you were the only one I saw in Camden last night.’
She was looking at me in open-mouthed shock.
‘What’s your special gift, Kate?’ I said.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Everyone they recruit has something that makes them special. Becky senses things no one else can and Sukie hears every thought in the house when she’s not being blocked. So what’s your talent? Why are you here?’
She looked at the floor, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know, Ben. I see strange lights sometimes, and sometimes I get flashes of things before they happen, but that’s it. I don’t even know why they want me here. They say I have potential, developing skills that aren’t quite there yet, but I’m out of my depth, really. It’s just, I feel more at home here than I do out there.’
‘I think there’s more to you than you’re telling,’ I said.
‘There isn’t. There really isn’t.’
‘And you know what else? I think Sukie didn’t know what she was dealing with when she recommended you to Joe. If you were able to screen her thoughts, she’d never know you were working for the other side.’
‘That’s not true. I don’t even know what screening is. I’m no traitor,’ she said, her eyes shining.
‘The Ministry will decide about that,’ I said.
She’d heard enough. She made for the door in tears, only turning back at the last moment.
‘Why are you being so mean, Ben?’ she said. ‘It’s not right to say things like that about people you don’t really know. And I only came to say hello. I thought we were going to be friends.’
She ran out, sobbing, nearly colliding with Mr October in the doorway as she went.
‘What was that about?’ Mr October said, staring after her. ‘Why the waterworks?’
I stared at the wall, not wanting to discuss it, smarting from the betrayal.
‘That was one of Joe Mort’s team, wasn’t it?’ Mr October said.
‘Yeah, her name’s Kate.’
‘Ah, of course. Miss Stone. The girl whose call was intercepted last night.’
‘The . . . what?’
‘Yes. That quack Rictus spilled it all in the truth cellar just before dawn. Lu’s been over him like a rash all night between shifts – he’s in a heck of a state. Can’t see how we’ll ever put the pieces together again. It’s not the only thing he confessed. He eventually gave us much more, but he also gave us this vital lead.’
‘What are you saying?’ I asked.
‘Everything’s under control,’ Mr October said. ‘I’d been wondering why the girl’s distress call never reached us. Turns out another member of Joe’s team, Curtis Noonan, took it, and then relayed the message – not to us but straight to the enemy. We have a confession to that effect signed in Rictus’s blood, and Noonan was captured on the M1 this morning, making his getaway. The Vigilant he’d been working with is in for questioning too.’
21
THE BRIEFING
fter the medical team had examined and discharged me, Mr October waited at the bedside, poring over my Luther Vileheart sketch while I washed and dressed in the bathroom.
‘Very good. Perfect for our needs. Are you ready?’ he called. ‘The meeting’s in five minutes and all teams will be there.’
‘I feel terrible,’ I said, studying the mirror. The scar on my cheek was pink and clearly visible again. I turned off the light and went through to the room.
‘You shouldn’t feel so bad,’ Mr October said. ‘The staff gave you a great report. You’ll still experience headaches and dizzy spells, but not for long, and they’ll be nothing compared to what they were.’
‘I don’t mean that. I feel fine in myself.’ And I did – revitalised, steady-legged, stronger than I’d been for days. ‘I mean, I feel terrible about what I did to Kate Stone. I really ripped into her.’
Mr October tucked the sketch pad inside his coat. ‘Fear,’ he said vaguely, leading me out and along the corridor.
‘Fear?’
‘Yes, fear. Although it keeps us alert and focused, it also leads us to make mistakes. The enemy push fear into our lives, and we rush to judgement and make poor choices, wrong decisions. We look for someone to blame for our woes and we falsely accuse. You miscalculated, but that’s no surprise after all you’ve been through. Apologise to the girl in your own time.’
‘I will.’
‘But first there are other, more urgent matters – your mother’s capture, and the capture of five others who were tak
en whole on Bad Saturday.’
At the end of the corridor Mr October tapped a keypad beside the security door and the door buzzed to let us downstairs. On the first flight down he rummaged around inside his coat, bringing out a bulky package which he pressed into my hands.
‘You’re officially reinstated as of now,’ he said, ‘and here’s your journal. The Ministry have given it careful consideration and don’t believe it poses a security risk. You were right – even if it fell into the wrong hands no one would believe it. To outsiders it would seem too far-fetched.’
‘Blimey,’ I said. ‘I mean, thank you!’
‘However, if I may,’ Mr October continued, ‘your grammar does leave something to be desired. There are several split infinitives, a slew of unnecessary modifiers and far too many mixed metaphors. Don’t they teach you anything at that school of yours?’
‘They try, but it’s not really my subject.’
‘Aside from that, the Overseers find no reason to object. They’re keen to see you progress here and feel you should be free to keep a record as long as it remains private and doesn’t interfere with your duties.’
‘I won’t let it,’ I said.
‘Very well.’
Turning onto the operations floor through another security door, the first thing I saw was the Vigilant named McManaman blundering up the hall. His hands were cuffed and two other security staff were escorting him. He’d been going without a struggle until he clapped eyes on me. Then his face reddened and he fought to break away, bucking and straining while the other guards held him fast.
‘Three of my colleagues died because of you,’ he spat. ‘Three of my mates! If I ever get my hands on you, kid, you’ll wish you’d never been born.’
‘You’re finished, McManaman,’ Mr October said, his features darkening to match the prisoner’s. ‘Take him away,’ he told the guards with a wave of his hand, and then he turned to me. ‘Noonan found a willing accomplice in McManaman, who badly wanted to avenge his friends. The evidence he planted during the raid was useless – the Bad Saturday list was days old by then – but what he did was unforgivable, costing us valuable time and manpower on an investigation which should never have taken place. You’re aware of the resentment the Vigilants still feel towards you?’
‘Yeah. They don’t do much to hide it.’
‘Most are loyal, but there may be other rebels who’ve yet to show themselves. Tread carefully, Ben.’
‘I will.’
‘Now take these pages to a safe place and join us in the briefing room without delay. And Ben?’
‘Yes?’
‘Good to have you back.’
The floor was buzzing, a steady stream of operatives heading down the hallway towards the briefing room. Receipts was unmanned, the telegraph inactive. As I fitted the typescript behind the ancientspeak volumes and started outside, it began to fizzle and groan again. Closing the door on it, I hurried away, hoping the meeting wouldn’t take long.
The briefing room was a small theatre with low ceilings, soft lighting and a slightly raised stage on which Joe Mort and elderly white-suited Mr October were sitting. Most of the twelve rows of seats facing the stage were occupied, but Becky had kept me a place near the front. The room became hushed as Joe Mort and Mr October stood to bring the meeting to order. Joe looked tired, presumably rattled by the discovery of a traitor on his team.
On the wall behind them was a roll-down map of the city, marked here and there with bold red crosses. On a bulletin board beside it was my sketch of Luther Vileheart and six other artist’s portraits including – I had to look twice to be sure – one of my mother.
A side door creaked and Lu entered, all eyes upon her, and made for a seat behind ours. Her hands were bandaged like a boxer’s and her clothing was spattered with Professor Rictus’s blood.
‘Great work,’ I whispered. ‘I heard all about it.’
Lu looked down modestly. ‘That’s all right. It had to be done.’
A movement further back drew my eye to Kate Stone, still tearful and making a point of not looking at me. A cough from Becky turned me around to face the front as Joe Mort clapped his hands.
‘Attention! Listen up for Mr October.’
‘We’ve made good progress in the last few hours,’ Mr October began, sweeping his brass-handled walking stick out of thin air and lowering his weight onto it. ‘Thanks to the efforts of the Shuffleheads and Luna San Lao, better known to most of you as Lu, we now have a sense of the enemy’s plan. Tomorrow, Monday night, that nefarious plan will reach its end. We must work to prevent it at all costs.’
Joe stepped forward to aid Mr October, who turned on weak legs to point the walking stick at the artists’ sketches.
‘Memorise these faces, burn them into your minds,’ he said. ‘Here you see Luther Vileheart, the entity charged with carrying out this plan under the direct command of Lord Randall Cadaverus. This is his latest known guise, and here are the six unfortunate souls in holding. One, Donna Harvester, was stolen by Vileheart himself, the others by junior demons at the scene of the atrocity now known as the Bad Saturday bombing. Their whereabouts are unknown. Reconnaissance? It’s your job to trace them. They could be anywhere in the city, in any abandoned and boarded-up house, in any loft or cellar. We believe they’re being held captive until the time of departure.’
Mr October broke off, wheezing, straining for breath, and Joe again steadied him as he turned to the street map.
‘The enemy have many points of entry into this world and just as many points of exit,’ Mr October said. ‘This city is a honeycomb with countless routes in and out, but only a few of these can be used for transporting the living. They can’t be moved safely through cracks and vents and pipelines. Their flesh and bone makes this impossible. However, under questioning in the truth cellar Professor Adolphus Rictus told us of three gateways through which mortals may be moved to the enemy’s territory. The gateways are here, here and here.’
Mr October’s walking stick prodded three places on the map marked by red crosses.
‘They’ll be carried by train, like cattle,’ he said, ‘an extraordinary train which runs between here and Abhorra. This train has no schedule, no timetable. It may run twice in a week or once in a generation, whenever there are mortals to transport. Well, the enemy have had a successful week – it’s rare to see so many taken alive at once – and we believe the train will run again tomorrow night. If we’re unable to find the prisoners before then, we’ll have to intercept the train as it leaves the city . . . a daunting task, and for this we’ll need all the forces we can muster.
‘The first location,’ he said, tapping a point at the map’s north-western tip. ‘As you’re aware, there are sealed-up stations and mothballed lines all across London, such as the old Post Office Mail Rail tunnels between Paddington and Whitechapel. But there’s another line, not on the underground map and almost impossible to find because it isn’t meant to be found.
‘This hidden route crosses the country to here in Harrow, the first subterranean stop in the city. The place of access lies below a storm drain close to Saint George’s shopping centre. There’s no indication of it, no marks on the street or walls nearby. Any prisoners entering here are likely being held in the immediate vicinity as we speak. Teams will be assigned to search the area.’
Mr October now pointed to the map’s centre, continuing without Joe’s support. The room remained silent as he explained.
‘This second stop seems a more likely departure point. It’s close to where Donna Harvester was last sighted and is situated on the property occupied by Luther Vileheart before their disappearance. Professor Rictus was most helpful with this. To the rear of the property there’s a great maze, purpose-built to Vileheart’s own specification, and the gateway lies at its centre. But the maze is guarded, watched over by zealous enemy forces. When we enter we should expect furious opposition, but it’s a risk we must take.’
The tip of the walking stick
flipped east to De Beauvoir Town.
‘The third and final gateway is here, in a place well known to two of you in this room. It’s beneath a school on Mercy Road, close to where two corridors meet at the building’s centre. The platform isn’t accessible from the school, but can be reached through an underground walkway leading from the chapel crypt across the street. Additional teams will be assigned here, with armed Vigilants providing support. If we fail to intercept the train by this point, there’ll be little hope for the prisoners on board. Are we clear?’ Assorted murmurs and nods circulated the room. ‘Good, then let’s get cracking. You all know what’s required. And folks – let’s be careful out there.’
‘That’s all,’ Joe Mort said, helping frail Mr October onto a chair. ‘Everyone to their posts.’
The briefing room began clearing. Kate again avoided my look as she joined the queue filing out. Through the crowd I saw Mr October waving us over. Sukie had already joined him on the stage but, becoming the gunslinger-pirate again, he didn’t need assistance to stand.
‘I knew there was something about the school,’ Becky said as we went over. ‘In fact, I could’ve sworn I heard a train the other day, but then I thought, no way, you’re imagining it. Shows how wrong you can be.’
‘Lu!’ Mr October called. Lu looked back from the exit. ‘Go to the clinic and have your hands checked. We don’t need you for transport until later today.’
‘OK.’
‘What about our shift?’ I said. ‘There’ll be a new list in receipts by now.’
‘Other teams will cover for us,’ Mr October said. ‘Public transport will take us where we need to go.’
‘So we’re looking for Mrs Harvester?’ Becky said.
‘Later we will, but first we have a social call to make.’
Sukie gasped, alarmed by something she’d read in his thoughts. ‘You’re not,’ she said. ‘You’re not really going to see him, are you?’
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘Kirk,’ Sukie said. ‘He’s mad-dog crazy. Completely out of his tree.’
‘An old colleague,’ Mr October elaborated. ‘It’s true that he has a few anger management issues. He’s a former employee, now gone to ground, but at one time he was a warrior who struck terror into the enemy’s heart.’
The Great and Dangerous Page 19