Dark Star, page 17
Following a phone call on his burner phone with Shadow, where he learned the details of their horrendous night, he debated whether he should follow them to France using his current cover, but then he’d considered his conversation with Jackson Strange, and the list Shadow had entrusted to him. He decided that for now, he’d stay put. He still had his other cases that were keeping him busy, and needed to visit the office to show good faith—and hopefully see Olivia.
He examined the list he’d written down, recognising a couple of names that he suspected were high up in the order: Henri Durand and Kent Marlowe. The two names that Gabe was suspicious of were unfamiliar to him, but, he noticed with a smile, there were a couple of lesser nobility and one celebrity whose names he did recognise. No wonder Caldwell had been reluctant to hand it over. He considered sharing this information with Jackson, but he hadn’t discussed that particular development with Gabe or Shadow yet.
He decided he’d think on it, and by the time he arrived at the guild, it was after four in the afternoon. He entered his office without anyone seeing him.
As soon as he sat down, Olivia called him, not giving him time to even greet her before she spoke. “You’re here! I’m coming to see you.”
In seconds she was in his office, still dressed in her fatigues, and she marched purposefully to his desk and sat down. “I stopped by your place at six this morning and you weren’t there. You had me worried!”
“Six! Why were you there so early?”
“I’ve been worrying about everything after our conversation yesterday, and I just wanted to see that you were okay.”
He smiled. “That’s very sweet of you, but why didn’t you call?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I was worried you were someplace where a phone might compromise you.”
He rolled his eyes and walked to his espresso machine. “Drama queen. I was sleeping elsewhere, and then spent the day chasing leads on my cases.”
She looked at him surprised. “Sleeping where? With a woman you haven’t told me about? Harlan!”
“No, dummy! A hotel room, where I had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in days. Well, the best early hours of the morning’s sleep. I moved in the middle of the night and slept in.”
She was on her feet and at his side instantly. “Did something happen?”
He’d decided not to tell Olivia about Jackson’s visit. That would betray his trust, and possibly put Olivia in danger. The less she knew, the better. He’d decided to stick to the basic truth. “I got paranoid about Black Cronos, and,” he lowered his voice and switched on his machine, the rumble helping to cover his voice, “I’m also a bit paranoid about you-know-who.”
Olivia nodded and leaned against the wall. “I get that. It’s a sensible move.”
Harlan passed her a cup of coffee and started to prepare his own. “And I’m not going to tell you where I’m staying, either.”
“Okay, well, just stay safe. These guys sound terrifying, to be honest.” Olivia put her cup down and rolled up her long-sleeved cotton top, looking at him wide-eyed. She pointed to her inner forearm, close to the elbow where something was written, all the time continuing to talk. “I’m heading out in an hour, to Nottingham on that case I mentioned, so I just wanted to check in with you, really.” She mouthed at him. ”JD’s thief.”
Harlan squinted at the tiny lettering as Olivia continued to chat, and although the ink was smudged, he made out the name, Mouse. He lifted his head abruptly, staring at her. He mouthed back, ”Are you kidding me?”
She shook her head, and then raised her voice. “Anyway, I better get on, I have a couple of calls to make before I go.” She downed her last mouthful of coffee and then walked across the room, opening the door as she called back. “You take care, Harlan, and let me know if can help with the case in the East End.”
“Yeah, sure, but I’ll be fine.”
Olivia flashed him a beaming smile, murmured, “Afternoon, Mason. Can’t stay, see you in a few days,” and then she was gone, leaving Mason in her place.
Harlan sipped his drink, schooled his face into pleasant affability, and said, “Hey, Mason. Can I help you with something?”
Mason stepped inside, his sharp eyes darting everywhere. “Harlan. You’ve been gone a few hours. Are you okay?”
Harlan frowned, and had the horrible feeling that Mason had been following him—or was trying to. “I’m out of this office more than I’m in it, so why are you worried?”
Mason adjusted his silk tie. “Concerned about Black Cronos, of course, especially after Sunday.”
“Oh.” Harlan was still standing by his coffee machine, but he walked back to his chair with his drink, refusing to ask Mason if he wanted one. “No need. I’ve been following up leads for the Ouija board my client is after. I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of places.”
“The East End job?”
“No, that’s another one. The strange mirror with those unnerving properties, remember?” Mason had background on most of their cases, and he was aiming to bewilder him with a few of them. “Some little antique shop unearthed it, and we’re researching its history. It’s dark, very dark.” He sipped his coffee. “I dropped in to grab another couple of files, so don’t expect to see me much over the next day or so.”
Mason moved idly around the room, touching Harlan’s books and other objects, before asking, “No news from Gabe, then?”
“None. That’s not my job anymore. Should I have heard something?” He was damned if he’d tell him about the huge attack on the farmhouse last night. Besides, Mason might already know.
“No, of course not. Glad to see you’re staying out of the Dark Star business.”
Harlan decided to have a little fun with him. “Your thief has retrieved it, then?”
“Not yet,” Mason said, clenching his jaw. “There were some unexpected difficulties yesterday. But,” he smiled icily, “it is a small delay only.”
So, Mouse’s attack had been thwarted by Black Cronos after all. Good. “Well, whoever it is will need some luck, but as you instructed, this is JD’s business now.” Harlan stood up, grabbed the large leather bag he used to carry paperwork, and started to gather some files and books together. “Is that all, Mason, because I have an evening appointment I need to keep.”
“Yes, of course.” Mason walked to the door. “I presume we can find you at your flat, should I need you?”
Harlan inwardly groaned at Mason’s hideous subtlety and decided to mess with him a little more. “No, I’ve checked into a hotel until this Black Cronos business is over—personal safety, you understand.”
Mason nodded, fake concern all over his face. “Of course. And where would that be?”
“I couldn’t possibly tell you. It might endanger you, too. If for some reason they try to get to me through you, it means that even under torture you couldn’t give me away.” He shrugged. “I figure this way you could sincerely say you don’t know. Obviously, let’s hope it never comes to that!” Mason froze, his mouth working, but it was obvious he had no argument to that, and Harlan added, “Of course, my phone is always on if you need to talk.”
“Excellent. In that case, I shall leave you to it.”
In the minutes that followed Mason’s exit, Harlan worked quickly, gathering anything he may need, as he had no intention of returning to his office for a while. He had no idea what might happen next, but he wanted to keep his distance from Mason and JD, and if they were trying to follow him with some hired unknown, the less he was here, the better. He had a circuitous route away from the office planned that would be even more confusing with rush hour, and the tubes would be packed. And then, once everything was safely in his hotel room, he needed to call Shadow, and then meet with Jackson.
Shadow had just told the Nephilim, Aubrey, and Caldwell who their expected thief was, and they looked at her with a mixture of incredulity and amusement. They were all in the living room after they’d eaten, and a map was spread across the coffee table, along with a pile of reference books that Caldwell and Aubrey had carried up from the cellar. Most of the Nephilim were sharpening weapons or cleaning them.
“Mouse?” Niel questioned, glancing her way as he sharpened his axe blade. “Should I be scared? That’s a dumb name.”
“I believe,” Shadow said impatiently, “that she is so named because of her ability to get in anywhere—just like a mouse.”
Ash nodded. “It’s an excellent name. Mice are derided. People call them timid, but did you know that a mouse is highly adaptable to new environments, can squeeze through tiny places, is incredibly fast, can climb very high walls, and cross wires and power lines? That suggests to me,” he said, reaching for another book from the table, “that Mouse will be a formidable thief.”
“Well, thank you, David Attenborough,” Barak groaned, “but I refuse to be intimidated by a mouse.”
“Speaking of which,” Niel said rising to his feet and hefting his axe, “I need to get on watch. As do you, Zee.”
Zee groaned as he stood and stretched. “True. I’m sure Eli is wondering where we are.”
Gabe was polishing his sword until it gleamed, but he set it aside and looked at Niel. “Are you happy with the bag arrangement?” Gabe and Niel had spent some time packing a large overnight bag with their various weapons and trialling it for flight.
“Sure,” Niel nodded. “I can carry it easily, and strapped to my chest it will provide protection, too.”
“All right. I’ll phone you once we get to France, anyway.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go tonight? I’m happy to spend a few hours in France before you get there.”
“Not on your own. And we can manage without weapons for a while. Plus, there’ll be a few of us,” Gabe pointed out. He walked over to examine the map and frowned. “It’s a long way. Almost six hundred miles. I’m not sure you should do it in one go.”
Niel paused in the doorway. “It’ll be fine. I’m planning to rest on this side of the channel for a while before completing the final leg.”
Gabe nodded, looking relieved. “Good.”
“Well, I for one am not happy at having to travel without my daggers,” Shadow protested as Niel and Zee left the room. “Planes sound stupid.”
“Stupid or not, those are the rules,” Nahum said, amused. “Don’t you trust your bare hands?”
She looked at him disdainfully. “My hands are deadly with or without a blade, thank you. However, I feel naked without them.” In fact, Shadow couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t carry her daggers at all times, strapped to her thighs, normally. Even when she was resting at home, like now, they were always close by. “Although, I am looking forward to trying plane travel. We have nothing like it in the Otherworld.”
Nahum laughed. “Something new for all of us, except Estelle. It’s a good job we have her to help us navigate the airport.” He addressed Barak. “I presume she’s told Caspian her plans?”
Barak nodded, although he looked worried, which was unusual for him. He was unconcerned about most things. “I have to say that I’m worried we’re leaving Caspian a bit vulnerable.” He reached for his beer and sipped it. “He’s only just recovered from being attacked by those pirate spirits, and the two witches who were behind the whole thing have disappeared. I feel like we’re running out on him when he needs us most.”
“I agree,” Ash said, “but the White Haven witches are closer to him now than before, so he’s not alone. And they have the Witches Council behind them. He’ll be fine.” He leaned forward and tapped the map. “We need to focus on this.”
“Very true,” Caldwell said, speaking for the first time in a while. He’d been absorbed with reading a manuscript, and had been talking quietly with Aubrey. “We’ve studied this record before, but now that we have the astrolabe we’ve examined it again, and we’re fairly confident that the reading we take based on the parade of planets will lead us directly to the chamber. Unfortunately, it won’t be pinpoint-accurate, but it will be close.”
Shadow was confused. “You had doubts?”
“Yes.” Caldwell picked up the astrolabe and took out the central pin to dismantle its layers. “Traditionally, astrolabes have many plates to enable the user to choose the one suitable for the area that they are travelling in. This astrolabe only has two plates. The general European area, and France.” All the Nephilim were watching now, their activities paused. “We were worried that the France plate would not be detailed enough, and we’d need another one, but now I think it will be accurate enough.”
Aubrey nodded excitedly. “We just may need to do a bit of hunting at the site.” He lifted one of the plates, turning it over in his hands, and the rose gold metal gleamed in the firelight. “This is an extremely detailed plate for all of France. Obviously, the places on here have slightly different names now—after all, this was made several centuries ago—but it should be easy enough to cross-match. Besides, place names or not, the directions will reveal all.”
Ash frowned. “Do you think there will be other things to achieve once we’re there?”
“Perhaps,” Caldwell said, wiggling the manuscript. “The language on this is obscure. We can understand it, but it seems sort of like gibberish.”
“Perhaps it’s something Black Cronos will understand better,” Nahum suggested, perplexed. “It was one of their members that designed it in the first place.”
“Maybe,” Ash mused, reaching forward to take the paper from Caldwell’s grasp. “But maybe not. Let me study it for a while.”
“Any further details about the Dark Star itself?” Gabe asked.
“None, other than vague references to the failed experiment. It’s all quite ominous,” Aubrey sighed. “And I must admit that after yesterday’s attack, I am very worried about what we’re going to find.”
“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Gabe told him.
Aubrey shook his head. “Yes, it is. We haven’t gone this far to give up now. The future of our order and all of our plans relies on this. We’re not backing out.”
“Neither will Black Cronos,” Gabe asked softly. “So you’d better be prepared for a fight.”
Harlan sipped his pint and checked his watch. Jackson Strange was late, and worry ate away at him.
He glanced around the small, crowded pub that was situated opposite the tube station in Covent Garden, full of people who’d come in for an after-work drink on Tuesday evening. He’d chosen this place deliberately. It was convenient to get to, and very popular. That meant that no one would overhear them, and it offered decent anonymity.
He glanced up as the door to the street opened, bringing in fresh evening air, and sighed with relief as Jackson entered. Harlan raised his hand, and Jackson nodded and headed to the bar, finally arriving at the table with his pint of Guinness.
“You were worrying me,” Harlan admitted as Jackson sat. He looked flushed, his eyes bright, and Harlan hoped this boded good news.
Jackson took a long drink, and then brushed the foamy head from his lips. “Sorry, I got caught up in a meeting, and took a circuitous route to get here. Did you take my advice?”
Harlan nodded. “I’m staying in a large hotel.”
“Good, because what I discovered today makes me very nervous.”
Harlan had been about to sip his beer, but now he put it down. “Shit. What?”
“I told my superiors about Oxford, and it ties into some other knowledge they have. They’ve had their eye on a professor in one of the colleges for a while, but have nothing conclusive on him.”
“So, what makes them suspect him?” Harlan asked, puzzled.
“His specialty is medieval alchemy for a start, and he lectures on alchemy masters—Ibn Sina, Artephius, Roger Bacon, Johann Georg Faust, John Dee, Elias Ashmole, and the Count of St Germain, amongst others.” Harlan froze at the mention of JD’s name, but Jackson didn’t seem to notice, as he was too busy glancing at the menu. “He also comes from a rich family with all the right connections.” Jackson looked up at him and smiled. “You get a nose for these sorts of things, and he hits all the markers.”
“What’s his name?”
“Stefan Hope-Robbins. They don’t think he’s the big guy, but they believe he is high up in Black Cronos. The fact that Gabe and Shadow tracked Blaze there has added weight to that.”
“Wow.” Harlan sipped his pint, thinking how insanely cloak-and-dagger all of this sounded. “Have they got any leads on the woman who killed Blaze?”
Jackson put the menu down, rested his elbows on the table, and knitted his fingers together. “Did you see any of that footage?”
“No. Did the club release video?”
Jackson nodded. “There was nothing inside the club, but there was some footage recorded from outside the entrance. It was blurry, all the images unreadable. But this is England, and there are cameras everywhere. They caught sight of the woman with long, black hair heading through the town, but again, anything too close became fuzzy.”
“She was able to destroy the images?”
“It seems so. Or it was your friends. I know Shadow and Gabe fought her. Some wildly blurry images of that were caught, too.”
Harlan felt his breath catch in his throat, and wondered if they had even considered that. “They don’t have clear images of them, then?”
“No. Although,” he looked amused, “it looked as if someone had landed from a height.”
Harlan gripped his pint glass. “Gabe.”
“Don’t worry. Like I said, everything was blurry. Shadow is fey, isn’t she? She should have magic that could do that, even if she used it unconsciously.”
Harlan didn’t answer, instead asking, “Did you tell your friends about them?”
“Sorry, but I had to. But they’re not interested in them…yet. However, they think they know who the woman is.”
“Ah,” Harlan said, feeling guilty. “My guys know, too. Shadow told me they questioned one of the men before he died. Who do you think she is?”
