by Mark Hayden
18 — Accidental Damage
‘This is a nice place,’ said Saffron. ‘And this is good food. I didn’t think there’d be quite so many lunches at the taxpayer’s expense in the King’s Watch. Or train journeys.’
‘Would you prefer to eat in the First Mine? No? Thought not. Something will happen soon. The Nine of Wands will see to that.’
‘Nine of Wands?’
Damn. I’d forgotten that I hadn’t told her about the tarot. I waved it off. ‘Doesn’t matter. Family legend. Now that Saffron and her hair are back, could she give me her take on this morning’s events?’
She put down her fork. ‘Is this a test?’
‘No. The CO should always ask for thoughts before giving his own. Or hers.’
‘There’s something off about the Red Lion business. I can’t put my finger on why, though.’
‘Try.’
She racked her brains. ‘Mages don’t normally like Nigerian food. Except for Desirée, of course. And they must charge a fortune to make enough money to throw twenty grand around.’
‘How are you at maths, Saffron?’
‘Maths? Like most people: pretty rubbish. Why?’
‘Did your maths teacher ever say, “Correct answer, but show your workings.”?’
‘Yeah. Didn’t often get the correct answer, though. Unless I copied off Lucy and she wasn’t in a bad mood. Sometimes she’d put the wrong answer down, just so’s I’d copy it.’
‘I used to do that.’
‘Copy?’
‘No. Put the wrong answer deliberately. I hated the lad next to me. Anyway, you’re right about the Red Lion. Something is very off. Yes, you need to trust your instincts, Saffron. You also need to become more suspicious and improve your observational skills.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Go back to the beginning. Bertie said we should go to Tetty Johnson’s House. Why would she say that if it’s called the Red Lion?’
‘That could just be Bertie.’
‘Possibly. Then add in the extreme levels of magickal obfuscation. All that to hide a restaurant? Why not just make it a private dining club?’
‘So they don’t get environmental health inspections?’
‘True, but what about deliveries? A restaurant will have up to half a dozen deliveries a day. Where do they deliver? What does it say on the delivery note?’
‘They must … I don’t know.’
‘Start with what you do know. The Cherwell Roost sounds like a major establishment. How does your family interact with the mundane world.’
She thought that was hilarious. She put her fork down again to laugh. ‘You don’t know the half of it. My uncle. My real uncle, Mum’s brother, runs the place. Most of the house is open to the public five days a week. It even has a name: Cherwell Manor. It’s only Cherwell Roost in Mage circles.’ She paused to think it through. ‘Most of the staff think it’s completely mundane. Deliveries go to the café. Once the punters have gone, the housekeepers take over. There are four of them, all entangled.’
‘And you’d rather stay in a tourist attraction than at Elvenham? One of us must have done something to upset you.’
She shook her head. ‘I’d rather stay at my cottage in the grounds and eat in the main house, thank you very much. If it were a choice between Elvenham and the goldfish bowl – that’s what I call it – then I’d be sharing gardening tips with Myfanwy in a heartbeat.’
That was strangely reassuring. ‘Red Lion Yard. What else?’
Now she’d got the hang of it, she thought harder. ‘The backhander. The bribe: she implied she was paying Mack for the privilege of being a grass. That doesn’t make sense. Oh, the payment was supposed to cover three months, by the way. It’s on the tape. What is she doing that she’d pay so much to hide it? None of it makes sense.’
‘Good. Two more things. The heraldic lion on the restaurant door looked wrong.’
‘Did it? I’ll take your word for that.’
‘And the letterboxes in the archway. There were five. One for Tetty’s Hats, clearly in use. Three for obviously made up businesses that have never existed. They were locked closed. That leaves one. Tetty Johnson Holdings Ltd.’
She pushed her plate aside. ‘Basically, I failed, didn’t I? Sorry, Boss.’ She looked upset. Not peeved or put out: upset.
‘I’m not the Boss. That’s Hannah. OK?’ She nodded. ‘And you didn’t fail. Failure would mean someone in hospital or in the mortuary. We are in the pub having lunch, so no failures. And we haven’t got to the magick yet. That’s why you’re partnered with me, remember?’
‘Thanks. Thanks, Conrad. As for the magick, I keep expecting you to have more Sight than me because you come across as if you do.’
‘Vicky and I worked on that. When it was my turn to lead, I always pretended to know what I was talking about, and she’d butt in to correct me. Go on. Tell me about the magick.’
‘After all the Wards and sensors, I got nothing constructed. There’s lots of Lux around, but nothing … structural. The First Mine was full of all sorts of things. Like walking into a magickal factory. This, not so much.’
‘Good. That’s just what I need you to tell me. Now why do you think Red Lion House is like that? I should warn you that I have no idea.’
‘You should go and feed Scout and have a smoke while I think about it and get us some coffees.’
Ten minutes later, Saffron discovered us playing doggy hopscotch. I think I’ll call it hopscout. She was appalled.
‘Stop that now! You’ll end up on Youtube if you’re not careful. So will I, and that is so not going to happen.’
‘Don’t tempt me. If you can think of a less embarrassing game to play with him, go ahead.’
She put the coffees down. ‘What did you think about the right hand side of the yard?’
‘What right hand side?’
‘Precisely. This is why I was so long getting the coffees. Have a look.’
She gave me her phone and her notebook. The phone had Google Streetview on it, showing the entrance to Red Lion Yard. The notebook had a plan of the yard, with Tetty’s Hats, the restaurant and kitchen marked. They took up the left hand side and rear of the yard. There was a blank line down the right. A wall, I’d presumed.
I checked Streetview again. The arch was clearly in the middle of the old coaching inn. There was a whole eastern section missing from our memories.
I passed the notebook and phone back. ‘Excellent, Saffron. Spatial awareness is normally my forte, and I’m happy to say that this is a spot on piece of work. I must have been distracted.’ I looked at Scout. ‘You are a big distraction, you know.’ He wagged his tail.
Saffron beamed. ‘What do we do now?’
‘We go to our homes. When we get there, I do nothing. You, on the other hand, will write it all up and email it to me.’
‘To check my spellings?’
‘If necessary. Here’s one of the unwritten rules: put in the report only what you’re happy for every other Watch Captain to read. Everything else gets passed on to the Boss off the record. The only exception is when we have a fatality. In that case, we write three entirely different reports and give oral feedback. Before you start, I’d read a couple of the reports in Maxine’s archives to get a flavour.’
She nodded enthusiastically. I used to think about reports that way once.
We loaded up our gear and headed for the station. ‘And tomorrow?’ she said.
‘The Brewers, I think.’
‘Shall I bring Sammi along?’
‘I don’t think so. We’ll save her for special occasions.’
Visiting the Brewers of Burton upon Trent was nowhere near as interesting as our trip to Red Lion Yard, partly because word had got round that we were on the prowl. Not only were the Brewers expecting us, one of them held out a mug of tea and said, ‘Can you accept this? I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.’ Ha ha.
Saffron wasn’t entirely happy with my critique
of her report (including the spellings), and there was a certain amount of sulking on the train north. After that, she livened up and really enjoyed herself mooching around the Brewers’ Loft. Not surprising, really: this was a collective of Artificers, and she’s an Artificer. She enjoyed herself so much that Scout and I went to Newton Park and exhausted ourselves playing hide and fetch.
Saffron really does have too much time on her hands. She’d given me a tennis ball on the train this morning and told me that she’d enchanted it. If I rubbed it in a certain way, it would both stop smelling of anything and act as a temporary magickal beacon. When Scout wasn’t looking, I hurled the ball deep into the trees, and he had to find it.
‘It’s not just good fun,’ she’d said, ‘It will help train him to find magick. Oh, and try to listen to his different barks, too.’
We met up again in mid-afternoon. I couldn’t help noticing that this was the third similar dress she’d worn this week: different fabrics, all made from the same pattern and with a high neckline. ‘Is that Mageburn still bothering you?’
‘A bit.’ She looked away. ‘I tried to get it to heal without a scar. Not very successfully, I’m afraid. I may need cosmetic surgery.’
‘Or live with it. You’ve seen the scar on Mina’s arm. She’s going to share it with the world on Saturday.’
‘It’s a mark of shame. Incompetence. Can’t have that.’
I heard another voice in her reply: there was a distinct echo of her mother or grandmother there.
She turned back to me. ‘Am I on report duty again tonight?’
‘Of course. I’m not skiving, you know. Last night I had to help Mina, and tonight I’ve got to work through Myfanwy’s submission to the Cloister Court.’
Our train to Birmingham was arriving. We’d have to stop talking magick in a second. ‘Tomorrow?’ she said.
‘Depends on your report. Either we follow up some of your leads or check in with the Arden Foresters.’
We did neither of those things. In the early hours of Thursday morning, I was woken up by thunder. Distant thunder. I tried not to disturb Mina and slipped out of bed to see if I could find where the storm was breaking. I looked to the west, where we get most of our rain from (the Welsh are so generous in that respect), and if there was a storm out there, I couldn’t see it. And then my phone burst into life with Monti’s Czardas, my ringtone for Hannah. Mina groaned, and I grabbed the phone.
‘Boss?’
I slipped out of our room before Mina woke up completely and headed downstairs.
‘Are you awake?’ she said.
‘Are you?’
‘I’d swap this situation for a nightmare any day. You need to get dressed and get to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford.’
‘Is it Saffron?’
‘Is what Saffron? I assume she’s asleep in your guest wing. This is a long story, Conrad, and I need to make more calls. Dom Richmond will be at the hospital in a minute. He can fill you in.’
‘Saffron is at home. Cherwell Roost. Is there danger?’
‘Not immediately. There’s been a mundane casualty, and you need to be very careful who you talk to. You can fill me in later. Oh, and don’t use the A44. It’s closed.’
I filled the kettle and plonked it on the Aga.
‘I’ll make the tea,’ said a sleepy Mina. ‘You get dressed and I’ll have it ready. I assume you’re going out.’
‘Oxford. No idea why yet. Thanks, love.’
I waited until I was in the car before I called Saffron and filled her in. ‘You’ll be there before me. Do you know Dom Richmond?’
‘Met him once. He was at my induction ceremony.’
Dom Richmond is the Watch Captain for Sussex. In the King’s Watch, Sussex stretches all the way to Oxford. Don’t ask.
‘I’d rather we approached this together. I’ll meet you in the car park.’
‘And I’ll see if there’s anything online about the A44.’
Mina had made a large flask of tea. I passed Saffron a mug when I found her battered Land Rover Discovery at the John Radcliffe. It was just after five in the morning.
‘Did you stop to make this?’
‘No. Mina did. She wants us both fully functioning. What have you found out?’
‘Major incident on the A44 just north of Woodstock. Police are describing it as terrorist related and Thames Valley Counter-Terrorism are in charge. Road closed. At least one fatality. No mention of other casualties. Nice tea, by the way. Don’t suppose she packed breakfast?’
‘Myfanwy did that. Here.’ I passed her a paper bag with the Clerkswell Village Shop logo. ‘Myfanwy is also looking after Scout. A hospital is not a good place for a dog. He’ll be fine so long as I’m back by noon. Anything else online?’
She shoved a sandwich in her mouth and shook her head. I did the same and looked at my phone. Vicky and Xavi were on their way up the M40, but wouldn’t be here for a while. I sent a message to Dominic Richmond: Here. In Car Park. Where are you?
Answer: A&E. Look for the armed coppers and tell them you’re with me.
I showed Saffron the screen and her eyebrows shot up. ‘Wow. We really are in the eye of a shitstorm, aren’t we?’
We were, and just how much of one became clear when we found Richmond in a side corridor. To be exact, Saffron found him. I’ve never met the bloke before.
He was lurking, close enough to keep an eye on the room with the armed men outside and far enough away to use his phone without anyone hearing. ‘Ah, Clarke,’ he said, shaking hands. ‘Glad you could make it. Good to see you again, Ms Hawkins.’
He made it sound like we’d been invited to make up a four at golf, not the aftermath of a major incident. I waited to see what was next.
Richmond is one of the older Watch Captains, and according to gossip he had his nose put out of joint when Rick James was made Senior Watch Captain. Goodness knows what he thought when the Boss appointed me At Large, with direct access to her office; in most instances, Richmond has to answer to Rick.
To look at, he was pretty unremarkable: average height, early thirties, thinning hair. He did have a slightly bulbous nose, and that’s about it. All three of us were wearing what had come to hand when our phones went off.
‘Does the name Morris Chandler mean anything to you?’ said Richmond.
Of course it did. It even meant something to Saffron, which showed that she’d read the reports and had a decent memory. When Eilidh Haigh ambushed Lloyd and me outside Niði’s Hall, there had been eight of them: Eilidh herself, a young Fae, Irina Ispahbudhan and five others. One of those never left the boat, but the other four were mundane humans. They’d been tricked or press-ganged into Eilidh’s service from a gym in Sandwell, and she’d armed them with Anciles, body armour and machetes. One was dead, and we got DNA and fingerprints from the rest. One of them was Morris Chandler. I knew that, Saffron knew that, and so did Richmond, so why was he asking?
‘He’s in there,’ said Richmond, pointing to the single ward behind the screen of armed police.
‘What? Where are the rest of them?’
‘I was going to ask him that, but the Constable has insisted on your involvement.’
‘Better bring me up to speed, then.’
He pulled a face. ‘It’s complicated. I need to stand guard, and I don’t want to go through everything out here. There’s a tactical van outside – you can use this fire door. Talk to the inspector.’ He looked at Saffron. ‘There’s only room in the van for one more.’
I looked at Saffron, too. She gave me the barest of nods: she understood. ‘Two Mages are better than one for guard duty,’ I said. ‘You take the other end of the corridor.’
‘Sir.’
The fire door had been propped open with a rock, and the tactical van was as close to the building as it could get, with an armed copper standing behind it. I hopped outside and identified myself to the officer. He peered at my RAF badge and muttered into his radio. Someone inside the van opened the door
and a plain clothed female officer waved me inside. Richmond was right: they really did only have room for one more.
Three officers were crowded into the van. The woman who’d opened the door made way for me to get inside, then closed the door behind. A male constable in uniform was working the communications, and the inspector was standing at the back with his arms folded. He did not look happy to be here.
‘Squadron Leader Clarke,’ I said, holding up my ID again.
‘Are we at risk here?’ he said. I liked him already.
‘Yes. My colleagues and your officers should be enough to discourage an attack, but I can’t be certain.’
‘Who’s the target?’
‘The man you have in custody.’
‘Not the hospital? Not the surrounding area?’
‘No. This is a terrorist level threat, but they are not terrorists. This is effectively organised crime.’
‘That’s something, I suppose.’ He considered me for a moment. ‘What should we do to secure the situation?’
‘I need a full report before we make any decisions. The sooner I know what’s happened, the sooner we can proceed.’
‘Fine. We’re still trying to piece things together, and there’s a hell of a mess on the road, but this is what I know. We started to get reports from the public at 03:30. Drivers along the A34 were calling 999 and describing an erratic pursuit, starting just north of Oxford. A Mercedes 4x4 was being chased along the northbound carriageway by a Land Rover Sport. At 03:35, both vehicles entered the Peartree Interchange. Do you know it?’
‘The A40/A34/A44 interchange. I know it.’
‘There was carnage. Three vehicles crashed taking evasive action. At that point, the control room dispatched a patrol car and activated the armed response vehicle. A very wise decision. Both target vehicles headed up the A44, and the patrol car was less than a minute behind them. The ARV was about ten minutes behind that.’
The inspector took a breath. ‘This is where it gets tricky. The Mercedes tried to go round the Woodstock roundabout and double back on to the southbound carriageway. It collided with a lorry, and two more vehicles smashed into them. The Land Rover went off the road to avoid the pile-up and, and that’s why it was out of sight when our patrol car got there. The officer parked across the carriageway with blues on to stop oncoming traffic, then went to investigate the accident. He was approaching the four-vehicle RTC and there were shots fired. It was just getting light at this point, so he had a good view, once he’d taken cover and called it in.’