Heart of Gold (32 page)

Von Stralick grimaced. 'You need an explanation for
everything, don't you, Fitzwilliam?'

'Oh yes,' Caroline said. 'Aubrey without an explanation
is like a dog without a bone.'

Aubrey nodded. 'You're operating under difficulty
here, von Stralick, aren't you? You're under-resourced.'

Aubrey could have sworn that the Holmlander
actually squirmed. 'There is much I cannot tell you.'

'Granted.'

'But I must tell you something.'

'Are you arguing with us or with yourself?'

Von Stralick glanced at the building opposite. 'Not
here. And we have no time to spare. We must hurry.'

V
ON
S
TRALICK LED THEM THROUGH STREETS WHERE THE
city was beginning to wake and stretch. With the
morning light, Lutetia was less sinister, more like its old
self, but Aubrey saw the dispirited way that waiters set
tables outside bistros. Window cleaners smeared glass and
shrugged, moving on with long faces. Two police officers
stood on a street corner, arguing. Even the dogs being
taken for early morning walks were affected, whining
and moping, reluctant to cross roads or romp in the
parks.

Lutetia, the City of Troubles
, Aubrey thought.

Von Stralick marched at a pace that made them weave
between pedestrians on pavements that were growing
more and more busy. Aubrey walked beside him,
Caroline and George behind.

'Factions, Fitzwilliam,' von Stralick said as he skirted a
market boy with a basket of artichokes and onions. 'I am
much chagrined to tell you that the Holmland intelligence
agencies are plagued by factions.'

'Go on.'

Aubrey watched as von Stralick weighed his words
carefully. 'I am not the only operative at work here.'

'Holmland would be foolish to have only one agent in
Lutetia.'

'True, much the same as Albion has multiple agents
here.'

Aubrey kept his face impassive, but it was something
he hadn't considered for some time. The Magisterium
and the Special Service must have agents on the ground,
but no-one had contacted him. Why not?

'A network. You have a network.'

'Yes.' He glanced at Aubrey. 'We have low level agents
for surveillance and communication, and speciality
agents for . . . other matters.'

Magicians
, Aubrey thought, filling in the gap.
Blackmailers.
Assassins and saboteurs?

'For good security reasons,' von Stralick continued,
'I don't know the details. Names, numbers and so on.'

That was something Aubrey wasn't willing to accept
immediately. 'Of course. What you don't know can't be
prised out of you.'

'That is the theory my masters subscribe to.' Von
Stralick scowled. 'And that is the root of my problem.
Masters. In Holmland, our intelligence agencies attract a
particular sort of person.'

'I understand. It's the same in Albion. In agencies
where suspicion is the business, the most suspicious tend
to rise to the top.' It was quite a challenge, keeping
a conversation going while not saying anything significant.
Aubrey thought he was doing well, but it was
like tightrope-walking over the Pit of Doom. One false
step . . .

'Just so. In Holmland, it has resulted in factions within
our agencies. It is not helped by the fact that our government
is also riven by factions.'

That was something Aubrey was unaware of. He
mentally underlined it. 'Are you saying that you're not
sure about your superior?'

'I receive orders from a number of people. Sometimes
they conflict. Thus far, I have been able to play them off
against each other, maintaining my reputation by getting
important jobs done. But now I am finding this more
difficult. The appearance of Muller and Schnagel
surprised me and has emphasised that different factions
have different agendas.' Von Stralick stopped. 'Follow me.'

He took them through the foyer of a shabby office
building. He ignored the lift and instead led them to the
stairs at the rear.

On the first-floor landing he paused, scanning the
corridor in both directions before beckoning them on.
He used a key to open the last door on the right, at the
front of the building overlooking the street. He entered
first and quickly ushered them inside.

It was a single room. Tattered wallpaper was the only
feature apart from a wooden chair near the window and
a telephone on the floor next to it. A thin young man
with blond hair was sitting in the chair with a pair of
binoculars in his hands. He stared at them, mouth open.

Von Stralick strode over and took him to the far
corner of the room. They muttered together for a few
minutes in Holmlandish, then the young man pushed
past Aubrey and the others, out of the door, his head
down, face averted.

Von Stralick was troubled.

'Observation post?' Caroline asked him.

He bowed again. 'You are perspicacious as well as
beautiful.'

She rolled her eyes. 'And what is there to see around
here?'

'Opposite is the photographic studio of one Monsieur
Farentino. We have reason to believe he is the photographer
who has stumbled on magical methods to steal
people's souls.'

'Farentino?' George said. 'Not Gallian, then?'

'Farentino is what he calls himself at the moment. We
have managed to trace his movements back for the last
ten years or so, and he has resided in a number of countries,
even spending some time in the Orient.'

The windows of the studio opposite were covered by
wooden slat blinds except for one bare window, which
opened onto the corridor outside the studio. 'Is he in
there?'

'He met a businessman half an hour ago – a banker or
accountant, from the description. No-one has come or
gone since then.'

Aubrey felt a chill when he thought of the businessman's
probable fate. A simple portrait sitting, it would
begin as, but the horror that was waiting . . .

'We have him then.'

'We must hurry,' von Stralick said. 'Muller and
Schnagel are on their way.'

'They are?' Caroline said. 'Your awareness of developments
in Lutetia has certainly become more comprehensive.'

'Recent events took me unawares,' von Stralick said.
'I do not like being in such a way, so I have endeavoured
to find out more.'

'By way of the Holmland agents in Lutetia,' Caroline
said.

'Perhaps.' Von Stralick studied her for a moment. 'You
are showing sudden interest in the workings of intelligence
gathering.'

She smiled. 'It's a new hobby.'

'Farentino?' Aubrey prompted, intrigued as he was by
Caroline's questioning. 'Muller and Schnagel?'

'I have made some discreet enquiries since our
incident with the lion, and I have found out that, despite
what I had been told, someone
did
give Muller and
Schnagel orders to steal the Heart of Gold and bring
it to Holmland. Communications were intercepted,
between them and an unknown party.'

'Ah. So they weren't acting on their own.' Aubrey was
sure that his father, the Foreign Office, the Magisterium,
the Special Services, all would be extremely keen to hear
that someone high up in Holmland was actively trying to
bring on war – and that there were others who were
opposed to such action.

'Precisely. Their plans are in jeopardy, however, because
the Gallians have been unusually efficient in their
blockade of the city. They are in hiding, but the waiting
has proved too much for them. Impatient as they are, they
have embarked on a new mission, to fill in time, as it
were. Probably Muller, but perhaps Schnagel, has decided
that the methods of this Soul Stealer would be a useful
weapon in war. They have organised their cadre to find
this madman and take him and his methods back to
Holmland. They began by abducting photographers at
random, but they've come into some information that
has led them here. Now, this action was apparently
not
sanctioned by anyone in Holmland.'

George harrumphed. 'We thought
you
wanted this
Soul Stealer.'

Von Stralick was pained. 'Please give Holmland some
credit. Not all of us are fools, despite what your popular
press says.' He sighed. 'Some things are not to be countenanced.
Stealing souls as a method of warfare? No. It
would not be right.'

'Whereas blowing millions of people to pieces with
bombs would be acceptable?' Caroline asked.

The Holmlander spread his hands. 'Can one fight a
war and still be civilised? I don't know. But I do not
feel that putting soul stealing into the hands of generals
is a good idea, when they have so much already, as you
point out.'

More to keep von Stralick off balance than anything
else, Aubrey asked, 'And what do you hope to gain by
frustrating the efforts of your countrymen?'

'Ah, motive. You Albionites are always interested in
delving behind actions to find what lies beneath.' Von
Stralick chuckled. 'Would you be surprised if I told you
that self-interest is my motive here?'

'Hardly. Self-interest is the primary motivation for
most actions.'

'You see?' von Stralick grinned. 'I am so obvious, not
devious at all. If Muller and Schnagel's superior suffers a
setback, then my superiors are advanced. When their
fortunes rise, mine do too. Simple.'

If you're that straightforward, I'll walk backwards to the
North Pole.
'And you need my magic to help you?'
Aubrey said.

'Farentino has powerful sorcery, while I have access to
none.'

'And once we have him,' Caroline said, 'he'll be
handed to the Gallian authorities?'

'Of course.'

A
S HE APPROACHED THE DOOR TO
F
ARENTINO'S STUDIO,
Aubrey felt the drone of magic. It was a mixture of raw,
unfocused power and sharply organised spells; to a
magician, it was like feeling the hum of heavy machinery
under the ground.

Von Stralick nodded at the door, keeping his silence.
Aubrey motioned the others back behind him.

He worked quickly. He crouched and carefully placed
a hand on the surface of the door. His magical awareness
told him that Farentino had done a good job. Magical
wards were not just present on the door to the studio, but
the walls, ceiling and floor were also reinforced. A veritable
magical meshwork enveloped the studio, dormant but
ready to react if the place was in danger of being
breached. The whole lattice was overlaid with a recognition
spell: the door would recognise Farentino and
admit him, but anyone else attempting to enter would be
in for a surprise.

Aubrey probed gently, then drew back and stood. He
wiped his hands together.

The meshwork sizzled with energy, a crude but
powerful adaptation of the Law of Reaction. For every
magical action there would be an opposite – but unequal
– reaction. Farentino had managed to increase the reaction
factor by two, so that any assault would rebound, doubled.

Of course, any competent magician would know this
and make allowances, probably using an inertial deadening
spell to catch and neutralise the reaction. Aubrey
hummed a little, and glanced at von Stralick. The
Holmlander took out his pocket watch and tapped it
meaningfully.

Something simple, then
, Aubrey thought.

He remembered when he last was faced with a magically
guarded door. At Banford Park, Albion's magical
research facility taken over by the renegade magician
Dr Tremaine, Aubrey had to gain access through doors
which the Sorcerer Royal had warded with complex
spells – but he'd also overlaid them with a recognition
spell, for convenience.

He led the others to the far end of the corridor, by the
window overlooking the street. A butcher's cart rumbled
past, but Aubrey's attention was taken by a grey-suited
man standing in front of a shoe shop opposite. He was
reading a guidebook, which shouldn't have been unusual
in Lutetia, except that they were in a decidedly uninteresting
part of the city.