“Of course I do, of course,” he said, willing to agree to anything I put in front of him.
“Then how come you never return the courtesy? Have you risen so high you’ve forgotten your old subordinate?”
He sputtered something halfway between an apology and an excuse before lapsing into silence.
I let that hang awkwardly between us for about fifteen seconds, trying hard not to laugh. “As it happens, though, and since you’ve so kindly offered, there is something you might be able to help me with-though I hesitate to ask, given that you’ve done so much already.”
“Think nothing of it,” he said coldly.
“Remember that operation outside Donknacht, the day before the armistice?”
“Vaguely.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was only of trifling interest to one so far up the chain of command. Dealing with key strategic and logistical issues, it might be easy to forget the skirmishes that fill the memories of the lower ranks.”
He didn’t respond.
“I need to know the name of every sorcerer involved in that project-everyone who carried it out, and anyone who might have trained them. The Ministry of War will have kept a record.”
“Not for something like that,” he answered, immediately and without thinking. “It was off the books.”
“They have it.”
He scrambled for some excuse to avoid acting the pawn. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to access them. They wouldn’t be held in the general library with the rest of the documents from the war. If they’re anywhere, they’d be under lock and key in the restricted section.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem for an Undersecretary of the Army.”
“They’ve changed protocol,” he insisted. “It isn’t like the old days. I can’t just walk into the archives and walk out with the documents under my arm.”
“It’ll be as easy as it’ll be. Or as difficult. But either way, it’ll get done.”
“I… can’t guarantee anything.”
“There aren’t any guarantees in life,” I responded. “But you’ll try, won’t you, Colonel? You’ll try very, very hard.”
He drained the rest of the glass and set it on the table, then pushed his weasel face toward mine. The liquor was kicking in, flooding him with courage he could never muster sober. “I’ll do what I can,” he said, and the tone of his voice did not fill me with confidence in the outcome of his errand. “And then we’re square. No more of these surprise visits. We’re done.”
“Funny-you said the same thing the last time I was here.” I stubbed my cigarette into his desk, grinding the ash into the finish, then stood and grabbed my coat. “Be seeing you soon, Colonel.”
The door shut on a man barely deserving of the title.
His secretary-a pretty, stupid young thing who had allowed me to talk my way into Grenwald’s office with a lie about the war-smiled up at me sweetly. “Was the colonel able to help with your pension problem?”
“It won’t be easy, but he’ll come through for me. You know the colonel-nothing’s more important than his men. He ever tell you about the time he carried me three miles across enemy lines, after I took a bolt in the thigh? Saved my life that night.”
“Really?” she asked, wide-eyed and bubbly.
“No, of course not-none of that was true,” I replied, leaving her more than usually befuddled as I walked out.
I left Grenwald’s office and the boy fell in alongside me without speaking. The meeting had been a waste- Grenwald was a spineless fool, and I couldn’t trust him to come through, not with something this important, not with the consequences I would suffer if it didn’t pan out. That meant I had to move on to plan B; and as far as plan B went, there was a reason it hadn’t taken priority.
Because plan B meant Crispin, he was the only contact I had left high enough to get the information and who I thought might have a chance in hell of saying yes. After our last meeting the thought of asking him for help was faintly nauseating, but pride comes second to survival, so I swallowed mine and started walking to where the child’s body had been found.
My reverie was broken by a voice that I only belatedly realized was Wren’s. I think it was the first time I had heard him speak without prompting.
“What happened when they took you to Black House?”
I thought about how to answer that question for a quarter of a block. “I rejoined the Crown’s service.”
“Why?”
“They made an appeal to my patriotism. I’d do anything for Queen and country.”
He swallowed this soberly, then spat out a response. “I don’t really care about the Queen.”
“Honesty is an overrated virtue. And we all love the Queen.”
Wren nodded sagely as we crossed the canal, the crime scene a bustle of motion a few dozen yards to the west.
The area was swarming with lawmen, and in contrast to their general tradition of incompetence, they seemed to be taking this one seriously. Crispin stood in the center of the chaos next to the child’s body, taking down observations and issuing instructions. Our eyes met, but he returned to his duties without giving any indication he had noticed me. I could see Guiscard canvassing witnesses at an intersection in the distance, and some of the boys who had given me a working over last time were milling about as well, more comfortable causing violence than investigating it.
“Stay here.”
Wren took a seat on the railing. I crossed into the maelstrom, ducking beneath the cordon and approaching my old partner.
“ ’Lo, agent.”
He responded without looking up, jotting down notes in a black leather-bound journal. “Why are you here?”
“Ain’t you up on the news? I missed you so damn much that I went to the Old Man and begged for my old job.”
“Yeah, I heard. Crowley sent a runner over an hour ago. I figured you’d use whatever time your bullshit bought you with Special Operations to get the hell out of town.”
“You never had enough faith in me.”
Suddenly the notebook was on the ground and Crispin had my lapel in his grip, the loss of temper striking in someone normally so self-possessed. “I don’t care what twisted agreement you made with the Old Man. This is my case, and I’m not letting your hatreds get dragged into it.”
My hand shot up and tore his paw off my shoulder. “I’ve had enough of being manhandled by law enforcement officials for one day. And as gratifying as it is to watch the Crown discover they have a population south of the River Andel, in our last go-round your assistance proved less than efficacious. Far as I can tell, most of your job is to stand around corpses and look distraught.”
It seemed unfair after I said it, but it eased him back down a notch. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
“For starters, why don’t you go ahead and run down the scene.”
“There’s little enough to run down. The body was found by a fish seller on his way to the docks. He reported it to the guard; they reported it to us. Judging by the state of the body, the girl was killed last night and dumped here early this morning.”
I knelt down beside the child and removed her wrapping. She was young, younger than the first one had been. Her hair looked very dark spread over her skin.
“Was the body… abused?”
“Clean, not like the last one. The only injury is the one that killed her, a straight line across the throat.”
I hid her corpse beneath the covering and stood back to my full height. “What does your scryer say?”
“Nothing yet. She wants some time to work with the body.”
“I’d like to speak with her.”
He mulled this over unhappily, but his permission was a formality and both of us knew it. The Old Man
