Monk’s eyes widened. “ Errol?”
Bibbie sat up. “Really? Really Errol?” She clapped her hands. “Oh, that would be too perfect!”
“Who’s Errol?” said Melissande.
Bibbie made a rude noise. “Errol Haythwaite. Tall, dark and handsome, yes, but such a plonker.”
“Did you say Haythwaite?” said Melissande. “I know that name. Gerald, does she mean that horrible wizard today who-”
He nodded. “Yes. Him.”
“You’ve met Errol?” said Bibbie, surprised.
“No. At least, we’ve not been introduced,” said Melissande, with fastidious distaste. “But I caught him in action at Wycliffe’s this afternoon. As you say, Bibbie, the man’s an utter plonker.”
“Worse,” said Bibbie. “He’s the kind of First Grade wizard who thinks Third Graders should be rounded up and set adrift on barges in the middle of the nearest ocean. Rich, of course. His sort always are.” She wrinkled her nose. “Whenever we meet at swanky parties he always tries to look down my dress. I think he thinks I should be swooning all over him. I know he’d like to marry me because of the important people Father knows.”
Monk was staring at her, his mouth open. “What? He tries to look down your dress? How come you never-”
“Because I’m perfectly capable of squashing a bug like Errol Haythwaite without assistance,” said Bibbie airily. “Besides, he and Aylesbury are chummy and you know what Aylesbury’s like. Honestly, Monk,” she added, seeing he was still upset. “Errol knows better than to push his luck with me.”
“All right, Bibs. If you say so.” He turned. “But Gerald-look, fine, so Errol’s a plonker. You’ll get no argument from me about that. But it doesn’t mean he’s behind the sabotaged portals.”
Gerald shrugged. “We think he’s connected. Through another wizard, whose thaumic signature has a few things in common with the one we found at the last accident site. He’s already raised a few eyebrows in the past. Nothing’s been proven, it’s just… suspicions, but smoke and fire. You know how it goes. Given what’s at stake we can’t afford to ignore the possibility. So Sir Alec put me into Wycliffe’s on a watching brief.”
“And have you seen anything?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“What about this eyebrow-raising wizard? Has he got a name?”
“Haf Rottlezinder.”
Monk’s jaw dropped again. “ Rottlezinder? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Blimey,” Monk muttered. “I knew a Haf Rottlezinder. Third year at university. He came over from West Uphantica as an exchange student. He was generally touted as a thaumaturgical prodigy. Stayed with-”
“Yes. We know, Monk,” said Gerald, meeting his friend’s gaze steadily. “With Errol. And from what we’ve been able to learn, he and Haf got to be very good friends.”
“And that’s your connection?” said Monk, incredulous. “I got to be friendly with Rottlezinder too. Does that mean you’re looking sideways at me?”
He tried to smile. “Come on, Monk. Sir Alec’s been looking sideways at you for years.”
But Monk ignored that. Beside him, Melissande tightened her hold on his hand. “Sorry, Gerald, it’s got to be a stupid coincidence. Errol’s a tick, but he’s not-not-”
“Not what, Monk? A saboteur? An attempted murderer? Or at the very least mixed up with one?” He felt his temper stir. “Why not? Because his family’s rich and influential and he’s a wizard Grand Master? Because even though you loathe him you went through university together and that means you belong to some kind of wizardly brotherhood? Because he’s one of us?”
“Don’t be a bloody idiot,” Monk retorted. “That’s got nothing to do with it. It’s just I know Errol and I’m telling you, Gerald, this isn’t his style. He’s got no reason to-”
“Actually, he does,” he replied. “Errol’s got a lot invested in Wycliffe’s. He’s head of Research and Development and this new project he’s working on, the Ambrose Mark VI, could put his name up in lights on the international stage. But only if the public loses confidence in portal travel, bringing back the age of the airship.”
“You have to admit, Monk,” Melissande said softly. “It does make sense.”
Monk tugged his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know, Gerald. It sounds pretty far-fetched to me, Errol and Haf Rottlezinder in cahoots to bring down Ottosland’s portal system and return Wycliffe’s to its glory days. I mean, what’s in it for Haf?”
“Money,” he said. “Errol’s rich enough to make it more than worth Rottlezinder’s while.”
“True,” Monk admitted reluctantly. “All right then-where’s your evidence? Besides the fact they knew each other at university?”
Trust Monk to find the weak spots in the Department’s argument. “We haven’t found any yet. But that doesn’t mean we won’t.”
“I don’t understand,” said Melissande. “If you’re so sure this Haf Rottlezinder is behind the portal incidents, why don’t you bring him in for questioning?”
What a shame Melissande was no less astute than Monk. “We can’t.”
“Because he’s in West Uphantica? But I thought your Department had all kinds of international extradition arrangements?”
Abruptly tired of standing, Gerald dropped into the other armchair. “We do.”
“Hang on,” said Monk. “ Is Rottlezinder in West Uphantica?”
“He was.”
“But he’s not now? You mean you lost him?”
“Well done,” said Reg. “That’s the kind of competence we’re looking for in a secret government Department.”
“No, he’s not lost,” he said, giving Reg a look. “We just don’t have a definite location for him at the moment.”
“Gerald, that means you lost him,” said Bibbie. “How terribly careless of you.”
“So what happened?” said Monk. “I’m guessing nothing good.”
Gerald frowned at his interlaced fingers, remembering the look in Sir Alec’s eyes when he’d come to this part of the mission briefing. “One of our best men was sent in to extract Rottlezinder, quickly and quietly. It… didn’t work out. Rottlezinder had already gone-and he left a nasty little surprise behind him.”
“The fatal kind?” said Monk.
Looking up, he nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
Now Monk gave Bibbie a vaguely disquieted glance. As though he were having sudden second thoughts about his little sister getting mixed up with this kind of ugliness.
“Forget it, Monk,” Bibbie snapped, glaring. “I’m staying. Try and push me aside and I’ll tell Uncle Ralph about the Mushtarkan diplomat’s cousin and the-”
“ Hey!” said Monk, sitting bolt upright. “You can’t do that! We had an agreement, remember?”
Gerald looked at Melissande. The Mushtarkan diplomat’s cousin and the what? She shrugged; either she didn’t know or she was protecting Monk.
“I remember everything,” said Bibbie, smiling dangerously now. “I especially remember how you promised you wouldn’t interfere in any of my cases.”
“But this isn’t your case,” he retorted. “It’s Gerald’s.”
“And Gerald is perfectly happy for me to stay.” She turned. “Aren’t you, Gerald?”
Oh, thank you so very much, Emmerabiblia. He looked at Monk, apologetic. “I think it’s a bit late to get cold feet now.”
Monk knew when he was beaten. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if you stub your toe, Bibbie, don’t come crying to me afterwards.”
“Look, I’m sure it’s very sad this agent died,” said Melissande, as the Markhams exchanged incendiary glares. “And I hope he didn’t have a family that’s grieving for him. But, Gerald, his death doesn’t actually prove what you’re saying, does it?”
He shook his head. “Unfortunately not. And the incant Rottlezinder used to cover his tracks was comprehensive. All it left behind was a great big smoking hole in the ground. If there was evidence connecting him
