“Justin! Get up. He opened it. I’ve got him nailed.” The bedroom door burst open and Ashna strode in. She was holding her open laptop and pointing at the screen. “He’s outside London. Near some place called Powick.”
“Powick?” I asked, still half asleep.
“Yeah, Powick. Tiny little cow town or village or whatever you call the cuts here. Two hour drive.”
“That’s where the asylum is.”
“What asylum?”
“The one Elgar worked at. Where he met Cellini’s mad descendant. I drove out there yesterday. Forgot to tell you. Angela James gave me the tour.”
“Who’s Angela James?”
“Estate agent. Wanted to sell me a nice house but couldn’t.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I told you about this after I met Benderick. I need coffee,” I said, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
“Then follow me and see if you can figure out the coffee machine. I’m an engineer and it’s beyond my understanding.”
I pulled on some clothes and followed Ashna down to the kitchen. While the coffee brewed I told her the story. “When Elgar was a young man he got a job as the conductor and composer for the orchestra at the Worcester County Pauper and Lunatic Asylum. While working there he met an inmate who claimed to be a descendent of Cellini.”
“I remember this now.”
“Yeah. So Dworkin, and probably Jutting too, both think the dark saying is some kind of magic incantation. Did I tell you about the scene in Cellini’s autobiography where he summons demons?”
“I need to read this book.”
“Anyway, Dworkin is probably in Powick because of the asylum. He probably wanted to visit the place where he believes Elgar learned the dark magic.”
“Got it. Well, we need to go there right?”
“Yes. How accurately can you track his location?”
“Very. I’ve got GPS coordinates from his phone and I can watch them change in real time as long as he keeps the phone with him.”
“Okay, let’s get a car.”
Ashna, who had spent a fair amount of time in India and was therefore more familiar with the disorienting sensation of driving on the left side of the road, piloted the rental car. We blasted through the suburbs which seemed not quite as hellish as California suburbs, and into the countryside. There was no rain this time. I gave Ashna a full rundown of everything that had happened since I arrived in London and we talked it over while we drove, periodically pausing to check Dworkin’s location on Ashna’s laptop.
“How did you get suckered into a psychic reading? That’s not like you.”
“It wasn’t a psychic reading. It was tarot cards.”
“Whatever. Same idea. Are you going soft in the head?”
“I don’t know why I went in. But the point is, it was unsettling. And it did actually give me some insight, I think.”
“What kind of insight?”
“I’m still trying to work it out. Mainly, it confirmed or maybe reinforced my feeling that there’s something truly weird about Jutting. What I saw when I went to his house was a facade carefully designed to convince me he’s a trustworthy business partner.”
“That doesn’t seem unusual. He’s in financial trouble right? He needs the money from Ortoli.”
“Yes. But he wasn’t just hiding some kind of financial dysfunction. It was something more than that.”
“Okay. Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. If we get the notes back from Dworkin, our job is done. Who cares what Jutting’s up to. Maybe he’s sacrificing babies in his creepy basement. Maybe he’s watching old Teletubby episodes. Maybe he’s filming segments for his elementary magic YouTube channel. Who cares?”
“I guess you’re right but I have a feeling we haven’t dealt with him for the last time.”
****
Ashna’s GPS coordinates took us through Powick where we passed by the housing estate I had visited the day before, and out into farmland, following the course of the river Teme which snaked through the landscape, crossing through fields and copses. We slowed when we were about a quarter mile from our destination and pulled off the road on a shoulder shaded by a massive oak tree. The coordinates seemed to be located in a grove of trees up ahead.
"Let’s leave the car here and bushwhack along the river."
Ashna nodded. "Let me just try something first. I think I can activate the mic on Dworkin’s phone so we can listen in and see if we can learn anything that way." She fiddled with her laptop for a minute, typing rapid fire commands into a terminal window. “Okay, I think I’ve got it.” She increased the volume and a tinny crackling sound came through the laptop’s little speakers. We listened intently for a couple of minutes while the sound continued, growing louder and softer in some kind of rhythm.
“What is that?” I asked.
“No idea. Wait.” Ashna held up a hand. There was a clank like metal on ceramic and then more crackling.
A faint voice, a distance from the phone, came over the speakers. “Don’t eat all of it Lester.”
“I won’t.” It was Dworkin’s voice, sounding like he was speaking through a mouthful of cereal. “We need to go get more supplies though.”
“We can’t go out in the car. Someone might see us.”
“Nobody here knows. If Jutting knew where we were his people would be here already.”
“I guess we could just pop over to the market quickly.”
“Let’s go now. I’m tired of these fucking bran flakes. I want something else.”
“You’re an awful beast, Lester. I wish I hadn’t agreed to help you.”
“You keep saying that,” Dworkin retorted around another mouthful. “But you’ll gladly take your share of the money when I figure out the enigma. Not that stupid money will matter anymore.”
“Fine. I’ll put my shoes on. Bring your wallet. I’m not paying for your food with my stupid money.”
Ashna turned to me. “Lovely pair.”
“Yes, true gentlemen of the highest class,” I replied. “That must be the accomplice who drove Dworkin away after
