Word of Honour (28 page)

'Look out!' Aubrey shouted, but Dr Tremaine
dismissed him with a snarl. He hurled the globe to the
floor and immediately the vault was full of dense,
white smoke.

'Stop him!' Aubrey called. 'The door!' He choked, then
coughed, and groped for clearer air. The smoke was
thick, and stung his eyes. He knew he wouldn't be able
to see if an elephant happened to choose that moment to
stroll though the Vault Room. He took a step, but
collided painfully with a chest of sovereigns.

'Which door?' George shouted.

'The Old Man of Albion!'

At that moment, revolver fire cracked – once, twice,
three times. Aubrey dived for where he hoped the floor
was and flung his hands over his head. Exactly what good
that would do, he wasn't sure, but he was grateful when
the floor was where it promised to be.

A dark-clad figure loomed in front of him. Ears
ringing, Aubrey lifted his head, but all he could see
were black trousers and a revolver dangling at knee
height in front of him. He was relieved to see that the legs
in those trousers were infinitely more attractive than
Dr Tremaine's.

'Get up, Aubrey,' Caroline said. 'I think I hit him.'

'You hit him?'

'Oh yes. He managed to lock the Old Man of Albion
behind him, but I got in three shots before it materialised
fully. And I don't miss. Not at that range.'

'I don't doubt it,' Aubrey said fervently.

I
T TOOK SOME TIME – AND SEVERAL TELEPHONE CALLS
–
before they could establish their credentials to the
satisfaction of the nightwatchman who'd been aroused
by the commotion. Despite Aubrey's best efforts at
persuasion, he kept them waiting behind the locked,
barred gates of the Vault Room. Even after Caroline slid
the revolver to him, the nightwatchman continued to eye
them with the sort of caution that rabid dogs usually
inspired.

It was only when Sir Darius appeared – looking
immaculate, even though it was nearly four o'clock in the
morning – with Sir Norman Hood that the nightwatchman
used his keys in the lock. His every movement
promised that some time soon he'd be saying to someone:
'You'll never guess what happened at work tonight . . .'

'Miss Hepworth,' Sir Darius said immediately, 'you're
unhurt?'

'I'm quite well, Sir Darius. Thank you.' She nodded at
Sir Norman.

Bells sounded from the street. 'That will be the
police,' Sir Darius said. 'I alerted them. Be prepared for
several squads, plus people from Special Services and the
Magisterium.'

'Of course, Prime Minister,' Sir Norman said. 'The
only thing that could be done, in the circumstances.'

'Please let those in charge know that I'll have these
young people at Maidstone, ready for interview once
they've had some sleep.'

Sir Norman huffed and puffed like a steam locomotive
and shepherded them through the hordes of uniformed
officers that were pounding over the marble floor of the
main banking chamber. The whole bank was lit, and
Aubrey wondered what nocturnal passers-by would be
thinking. All-night bank-note counting? A bank tellers'
knees-up?

The Oakleigh-Nash was waiting outside the bank,
Stubbs ready at the rear door. Aubrey was reassured to
see that underneath the driver's greatcoat was the tell-tale
shape of a pistol.

'Miss Hepworth,' Sir Darius said. 'I hope you'll accept
an invitation to a room for the night at Maidstone.
I'll contact your mother the first thing in the morning,
but I don't feel that rousing her this early would be polite
or helpful.'

'Thank you, Sir Darius. I appreciate it.'

He bowed, slightly. 'I'm glad. I'm sure the authorities
might have insisted on taking you, otherwise.' He assisted
her into the car, then glanced at Aubrey. 'You have a story
to report, Aubrey?'

'It's Dr Tremaine, sir. He's definitely back.'

'You're sure?'

'It was him, Sir Darius,' George said. 'No mistaking it.'

'You've saved the nation again, I suppose?' his father said.

Aubrey gestured at his friends. '
We've
saved the nation
again.'

Aubrey stood with one hand on the polished roof of
the Oakleigh-Nash. The sky was brighter, the buildings
about more distinct. 'A new day,' he said, and it felt good.

Even though his exertions had left him exhausted,
bruised and drained, it still felt good. The night's escapade
was thrilling, hair-raising and utterly, utterly addictive.

He wanted more of it. The trouble was, he wanted
more of everything.

And right now
, he thought,
some sleep is what I want most
.

He yawned.

S
ATISFACTION AT HAVING FOILED
D
R
T
REMAINE'S PLOT
gave Aubrey some solace as he suffered from the
effects of his exertions in the Vault Room of the Bank of
Albion. He was exhausted, but had found it hard to sleep.
He had a thundering headache and he was dismayed to
find that he'd had a nosebleed in the night. His pillow
looked as if someone had cut his throat and he had
to expend some energy to calm Tilly, who brought his
morning cup of tea, when she saw the gore.

Despite the summons to an urgent meeting in the
library, Aubrey took his time, limping through his ablutions
and doing his best to gather himself before fronting
to what he imagined would be an inquisition. He chose
a bold, green-striped tie, hoping it would take some
attention away from his slightly trembling hands.

His satisfaction dwindled as he washed his pale,
drawn face and saw in the mirror his deeply bloodshot
eyes – evidence of the consequences of his decision
to return to magic. He shrugged. He would have to
endure it.

The head of the Urban Police was John Pierce, an
experienced officer in his sixties, large-framed, greyhaired,
alarmingly whiskered. He was renowned as the
scourge of villains throughout the city, and a man with
forty hard years on the force.

Yet he sat behind the table, looking both wary and
intimidated by the two men either side of him – Tallis of
the Special Services and Craddock of the Magisterium.

While he was a phlegmatic man, he could not have
been unaware of the tension between Tallis and
Craddock. Without a harsh word being spoken, without
an unprofessional look, the two were waging an invisible
war. Pierce kept glancing from side to side as if he were
suffering from incidental blows to the head.

Wearily, with limbs that felt as if they'd doubled in
weight, Aubrey admired the seating arrangements that
had been hastily set up in a vacant room on the second
floor of Maidstone. The table behind which the heads
of the concerned authorities sat was big enough for the
three men, directly in front of and a good five yards away
from the straight-backed chairs where Aubrey, George
and Caroline sat.

Sir Darius was in an easy chair, situated against the
wall, near the door, halfway between the questioners and
the questionees. Whenever he contributed, the questioners
had to look to their right, and the questionees to their
left. It broke the confrontation beautifully.

'So you're saying that the gold is now in the hold of
the
Imperator
?'Tallis said to Aubrey.

'Most likely. What's left in the vault of the bank
is mostly fairy gold.' Aubrey held his hands together in
front of him to disguise their trembling.

Craddock tapped the table with his forefinger. 'I have
a squad of operatives testing it. I'm sure it's as you say.'

'So we have an incident on our hands,' Sir Darius said.
'It seems as if I'll need to summon Cabinet.'

'We can't just go marching onto their battleship
and demand to examine below decks,' Aubrey said. He
straightened, feeling slightly stronger as a plan unfolded
in front of him. 'Some tricky negotiation ahead, I'd say.'

Sir Darius nodded. 'Quite.'

'And you think you shot Dr Tremaine?' Tallis said to
Caroline. 'How could you be sure? You said the vault was
full of smoke.'

'I don't think I'd miss the man who killed my father.'

Tallis blinked, then suddenly found the papers on the
table in front of him very interesting. 'Of course.'

'Besides,' George said. 'He had a broken wrist and a
few cracked ribs to contend with. He wasn't at his most
nimble.'

'It's remarkable then,' Tallis said, 'that we've found no
trace of him.'

'You've sent operatives after him?' Aubrey wasn't
optimistic.

'Of course,' Craddock said. 'We would have liked to
examine the tunneller you spoke of, too. It sounded like
a fascinating piece of machinery.'

'Would have?' Aubrey echoed. He knew congratulations
had been premature.

'We couldn't find it,' Tallis said. 'At least, it wasn't
where you said it was.'

If Tremaine had activated the tunneller, then there was
no doubt he'd escaped.

'It might interest you to know,' Tallis went on, 'that a
certain singer, an Arturo Spinetti, didn't appear for his
show last night. According to the theatre manager,
he's been abducted. The theatre district is in uproar.
Although how anyone can tell the difference, I have
no idea.'

'It's a flimsy excuse,' Craddock said, 'and this circumstance
does tend to support your story that Spinetti could
be Tremaine.'

'He is. Was.' Aubrey had mixed feelings. He felt vindicated,
but also a touch guilty. If he'd raised more of a hue
and cry, could Tremaine have been stopped earlier?
In the pause, Pierce saw an opportunity to play some
part in proceedings. 'You'll all have to come down to
headquarters and make a statement, you understand.'

Tallis frowned. Craddock looked at the police officer
as if he was a performing dog. 'I'm sure there's no need
for that,' he said. 'The Prime Minister will make sure that
these young people write everything down. It will get to
you as soon as we've gone over it.'

Pierce frowned. His bushy eyebrows were two caterpillars
muscling up to each other.

'Only if that is acceptable to you, Pierce,' Sir Darius
said carefully. 'Otherwise, I'll bring them to your headquarters
immediately.'

Pierce visibly chewed on this. He glanced at Tallis and
Craddock. 'We have our processes.'

'Agreed,' Sir Darius said.

'But it's been a shock, no doubt. The statements can
wait.'

Sir Darius stood. 'Very well then. But if you change
your mind, we'll be at Barker Street promptly.'

Caroline stood, as did Aubrey and George. Aubrey
rubbed his forehead, but a thought occurred to him.
'Commander Craddock, have you read the memo I sent
you about Ravi's recent breakthroughs?'

'Go on.'

'It's just that I was thinking about the Law of
Displacement. Perhaps.'

'Aubrey?' Sir Darius said. 'You're not speaking very
clearly.'

'Sorry, sir. I'm still rather tired.' He cleared his throat.
It was thick and cloggy. 'The fairy gold and the real
gold. That's what I'm thinking of. With some careful
spell construction, it should be possible to switch the
two.'

'Ingenious,' Craddock said. Tallis sat back and wrinkled
his brow.

'Circumstances won't get any better,' Aubrey went on.
'The fairy gold and the real gold share weight, dimensions,
almost everything, really. The variables are kept to
a minimum.' He warmed to his subject. 'Of course,
distance is a factor, but we know where the
Imperator
is
docked. I'm sure the fairy gold could be moved to a
warehouse nearby to make the transference easier. I'm
happy to help your people, if you like.'

'No need,' Craddock said. 'I have a squad of operatives
ready to work on matters such as these.'

'You have? Oh.'

'Mr Ravi has been working with this special squad for
some time. I'm sure they'll be able to swing onto this
task.' He allowed himself a thin smile. 'The Holmlanders
won't even know what happened. Not until the fairy
gold disappears.'

Lanka Ravi was assisting the Magisterium now? That
was news. Things must have moved apace after Aubrey's
report.

And how did this fit with Tallis's revelation of the
Magisterium doing original research?
'I'm sure you were going to tell me about this in due
course,' Sir Darius said to Craddock, but his tone said
otherwise.

'Naturally, sir. When matters were a little closer to
resolution.'

'It changes the situation,' Sir Darius said. 'But it's
even more reason for me to call Cabinet together. This
is going to affect Defence, the Foreign Secretary, the
Chancellor of the Exchequer, the Home Secretary.'

'Once the bullion reaches Holmland, it's bound to be
put into circulation, eventually. Imagine the Holmland
armament manufacturers when their gold evaporates,'
Aubrey said. 'It's going to put a dent in their war effort if
we can pull it off.'

'Which isn't a bad thing,' George said. 'Maybe your
Holmlander friends might be able to make use of this,
Aubrey. They could expose Dr Tremaine and his cronies
as thieves or incompetents, ruining the Holmland
economy. Brandt and his cohort could sail back into
Fisherberg as saviours?'

Craddock shook his head. 'I don't think so. Manfred
has reported that Brandt and his people are moving their
plans forward in a different direction, with encouragement
from their well-placed friends in Holmland.' He
studied Aubrey. 'He still wants you to reconsider the offer
to accompany him to Fisherberg. I told him that this was
not feasible.'

'Sorry, Aubrey,' Sir Darius said. 'Not a wise idea,
I'm afraid.'

Aubrey rubbed the back of his aching neck. He had no
sense of this multiple-headed affair coming to a conclusion.
It was like trying to cross a room scattered with ball-bearings
that kept skating off in unexpected directions.

Or was he being
steered
in directions?

He nodded to his father. 'If it's all right, sir, I'd like to
get some more rest.'

Sir Darius looked to the interrogation table.
'Gentlemen?'

At that moment, the door was flung open. Lady Rose
stood there, hands on hips. 'What on earth is going on?'

W
HILE
S
IR
D
ARIUS SAW OUT THE THREE LAW ENFORCEMENT
officials, Lady Rose ordered Aubrey, Caroline and
George to her drawing room. Amid the tribal masks, bark
paintings and dried-flower arrangements, she listened as
Aubrey recounted the night's events all over again. He
didn't even pause when his father slipped in and joined
Lady Rose on the shot silk sofa.

'And so we saved Albion from financial ruin,' he
finished. 'Have I missed anything?'

'Of course,' Caroline said. 'But I'm trying to decide
how much of it was deliberate and how much is simple
forgetfulness.'

'What about this Maggie and her Crew, Aubrey?'

George said. 'They're still missing.'

'Ah. I did forget that. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.
I'll have to let Jack Figg know we haven't found them.'

'Jack Figg?' Lady Rose said. 'I hope he's over his cold.'

Aubrey, Caroline and George stared at Lady Rose.
'You've seen Jack lately?' Aubrey asked.

'I asked him to the museum a few days ago, and
we went to lunch. I wanted to discuss a new project
with him.'

'Another clinic?'

'One attached to his home for unemployed miners.
He's doing fine work.'

Aubrey shook his head. His mother – both his parents
– were sources of ongoing wonder to him. 'You do
understand that he's actively working to bring down the
government, don't you?'

'Good luck to him.' Lady Rose leaned over and shifted
a vase of feathers so they wouldn't obscure an outstandingly
ugly statue. 'Healthy dissent is the sign of a robust
democracy. Isn't it, dear?'

'I don't agree with everything Figg stands for,' Sir
Darius said, 'but I'm glad to have him as an active voice.
It stops us getting fat and lazy, taking things for granted.
He shines a light on areas that need it.'

'So what are you three up to now?' Lady Rose said.

'Rest,' Aubrey said. 'I'm exhausted.'

'You do look pale,' Lady Rose said. 'Are you sure
you're not coming down with something?'

Aubrey didn't know quite what to say. 'I'm well enough.'

'I should be getting home to see Mother,' Caroline
said. 'She likes to be kept informed about our excursions.'

'Excursions?' George said. 'That's a nice way of putting
it. Slogging through underground tunnels, battling a
renegade magical genius . . . "Excursion" makes it sound
comfy, like a nature ramble.'

'Exactly,' Caroline said. 'Perhaps we could meet and
catch the train back to Greythorn tomorrow evening,
Aubrey, George?'

'Delighted,' Aubrey said. Caroline made her farewells
to Lady Rose and Sir Darius, and was shown out. Aubrey
watched her go with the wistfulness he always felt when
she left.

'If you're just going to lie about,' George said, 'I'll dash
up and see how the parents are getting on. I can catch a
train from Fasham Square, just before lunch.'

'Hmm,' Sir Darius said. 'You can ride a motorcycle,
can't you, George?'

Aubrey thought George's grin was half-hearted.
'Motorcycle? What country lad can't?'

'I have a Kenyon Special in the stables. It's in good
shape, but hasn't been ridden for ages. Needs the
cobwebs blown out of it.'

'What? No, I couldn't, Sir Darius.'

'You'd be doing me a favour, George. '

'Well, if I can help . . .'