“Merlin thought he was suspicious,” said Vivien. “That’s all. And it’s unusual for someone who’s not active in our neck of the woods to wear a charm. Why’s he so curious now?”
“I don’t know,” muttered Greene. “He’s never interfered before. Like I said, he’s known to be the laziest chief super in the Met. It’s the last thing I need. He’s a very senior officer, connected across the board. At least he’s retiring soon.”
“He said he had Merrihew’s permission to stick his nose in,” said Merlin. “That must be true. Too easy to check. But why would Merrihew okay him interfering?”
No one answered him, but Vivien gave him a long-suffering look.
“Yeah, probably couldn’t be bothered saying no,” said Merlin. “Gone fishing, and the old carp rising . . .”
“What did you say that monster you had to cut up is called?” asked Greene.
“I didn’t,” replied Merlin. “A Cauldron-Born.”
“Are . . . are there are any more like that around?”
“I sincerely hope not,” said Merlin. “But it is now entirely possible.”
“I suppose we could pick up a job lot of machetes from an army surplus store or something. . . .”
“You’d do better to borrow swords and poleaxes from the Royal Armouries; they’ve got plenty at the Tower,” said Vivien. “Old steel is best.”
Greene looked at her. “You’re not joking.”
“No. I’d start getting that organized now if I were you.”
Greene groaned and made a face. “And you still say you don’t know what’s going on?”
“We really don’t know what’s going on,” said Vivien.
“But it does all seems to hinge on Susan,” added Merlin.
“Who’s been eaten by a giant wolf,” said Greene. “Yeah, I went after you, Merlin, only slower because I’m not bloody half elven or whatever. I saw what happened from the window of her room. I should have insisted she go home immediately after we picked her up—”
“She hasn’t been eaten,” interrupted Merlin. “The Fenris took her somewhere, and made a great effort not to hurt her, so I’m presuming that means whoever wants her, wants her alive and unhurt. We are going to find out where she is and rescue her. Half elven, hey? I didn’t take you for a Tolkien fan. Or much of a reader at all, to be honest. All action, no reflection. No offense.”
“I have to visit your bookshops often enough,” said Greene. “I read. And you know ‘no offense’ means ‘I am about to be or have just been fucking offensive.’”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“I think I like C. S. Lewis a bit more than Tolkien,” said Greene. “The White Witch reminds me of some people in the Met. Good luck finding Susan. And as soon as you can tell me something . . . tell me. Okay?”
She turned back to the phone, where a different very superior voice from the earlier one had started ranting, asking her what was happening and could they plausibly blame everything on the IRA?
Merlin and Vivien slid outside, past the recording officer and the armed police. There was no sign of Chief Superintendent Holly, though the taillights of a receding Jaguar Series III XJ probably marked his departure out the northern end of the square, since it was let through the police cordon. It was still very noisy, with idling vehicles, the helicopter circling low overhead, the neighbors being constantly told to go back inside, and other bystanders trying to come into the square being turned back from barricaded checkpoints set up at the north and south entrances, and also across Almeida Passage, the almost hidden pedestrian lane in the corner.
Audrey was waiting by her cab, watching the sky and smoking. She ashed her cigarette as they approached, her face somber. She could tell from their expressions whatever had happened was not good.
“We need your cab, Audrey,” said Merlin.
“Sure. Back to the New Bookshop?” asked Audrey.
“No, I mean we need to take it farther afield, out of London,” said Merlin. “Though you can drive us, if you like.”
“Whoa! Hang on,” said Audrey. “What’s going on?”
“They were attacked here by a Cauldron-Born, with Islington goblins, and a Fenris has taken Susan,” said Vivien. “We need to follow it. North.”
“What!” exclaimed Audrey, spitting out her cigarette stub. “Have you called Thurston? What did Una say?”
“We haven’t called Thurston. Una said go,” said Merlin. “Look, something’s a bit rotten in the state of Denmark. We don’t know who is involved. But we do need to get Susan back, and that means going after the wolf without anyone else knowing we are.”
“Something rotten . . . but you can’t mean—”
“Maybe not rotten, maybe torpid, you know what we mean,” soothed Vivien. “We aim to get Susan back and then reconvene. But we don’t want to tell Thurston or anyone at the bookshops because there is definitely a leak somewhere. Intentionally or not.”
“So why are you telling me?”
“Because we trust you. Now can we have your cab?”
“Una said okay? And you’re both going?”
Vivien nodded as Merlin grimaced.
“What is this? Does no one trust me on my own?”
“Not really,” said Audrey. “Bloody hell, Merrihew will probably kill me. . . .”
She hesitated for a few seconds, then swore quietly to herself.
“Go on then, keys are in the ignition. You know how to use the two-way?”
“Yes,” said Merlin and “No,” said Vivien.
“Control won’t be able to receive once you’re past the M25 or thereabouts,” said Audrey. “Uh, I guess if you’re going incognito, as it were, I’d better call in now? Tell Uncle Desmond I’ll be here for the foreseeable?”
“Good idea,” said Merlin. He was softly clicking the fingers of his right hand, which Vivien knew was a sure tell for impatience and anxiety.
Audrey opened the door and leaned in. They heard the click and buzz of the two-way radio handset, Audrey’s “Come in, Control” and Uncle Desmond’s casual “Yeah, wot?” and Audrey’s “This is three, Des, going to be a while here, I reckon. I’m going to lock up Nelly and go find myself a cuppa somewhere.”
Audrey leaned back out as Desmond’s voice crackled
