We contemplated this. “So, not a good place to choose for a holiday break,” I said. “We get the message.”
“But a very good place,” Lockwood said, “to generate Visitors, though the question must remain why the store itself isn’t having any current trouble. That’s brilliant, George—well done. Well, we’ll have to go and check it out.” He smiled around at us. “And we’re going to need backup. If it’s even half the place George thinks it is, three of us certainly won’t be enough.”
I looked at him. “You’re saying you want Holly to come too, I suppose?”
“Be glad to,” Holly Munro said.
Lockwood hesitated. “Well, if you want to, Holly—why not? That’s a great idea, Luce. But actually I was thinking of a much bigger unit, so we can separate into smaller teams, cover ground more quickly. It’ll mean asking DEPRAC to loan us some agents—ten or twenty, maybe—but that won’t be a problem.” He pushed his chair back. “Holly, if you can stay and get our supplies ready, we’ll get cracking and see Barnes now.”
“You think he’ll play ball?” George asked.
“Barnes may be grumpy,” Lockwood said, “but when I show him your findings, he’ll act soon enough. He knows how good we are.” He winked at us. “Don’t worry. I know we have our differences, but there’s a lot of mutual respect there. If he hesitates, I’ll sweet-talk him. He won’t let us down.”
“That total and utter idiot,” Lockwood growled. “That mustachioed imbecile. That benighted, blinkered jobsworth. He’s a clown! A fraud! An oaf! I hate him.”
“How’s the mutual respect thing going?” George said.
We were in Sloane Square, outside the Chelsea Working Men’s Club, in the heart of DEPRAC operations. Lockwood had gone inside to talk to Barnes; George and I were settled at a plastic table near the catering vans, and we were just tucking in to our first round of tea and hot dogs when Lockwood returned. Jaw clenched, cheeks flushed, he threw himself into a chair.
“He’s not interested,” he said. “He doesn’t want to know.”
George stared at him. “So what’s his take on Aickmere Brothers? What’s he think of my presentation?”
“Nothing. He didn’t even look at it.”
“He didn’t look at my lovely dotted maps?” George set his hot dog down. “How can he have a valid counterargument, then?”
“He doesn’t. Didn’t even look me in the eye. Basically he cut me off as soon as I told him the address. He said there’s another big push going on in central Chelsea tonight, and he can’t spare anyone to ‘fool around’ in the outlying areas. That’s a direct quote.”
“I’m surprised,” I said. “We know he’s a twit, but he’s normally a conscientious one.”
Lockwood drove his hands into his trouser pockets and stared balefully at the DEPRAC agents hurrying all around. “I’d have thought he would at least have heard me out. It’s not like I even mentioned George’s name, or did anything else stupid to annoy him. I don’t get it. This whole outbreak’s a disaster. He should be dying for any new idea we could come up with. As it is, we’re stymied. I just don’t see that we can go to Aickmere’s on our—” He gave a start, and shrank down in his chair. “Oh no…Don’t look now. It’s Kipps. I saw him skulking nearby when I was speaking to Barnes. He must have heard the whole thing.”
Sure enough, here was Quill Kipps, jeweled rapier glinting, mincing across the square in our direction. George and I glared at him as he drew near. Lockwood looked away.
Kipps halted. He did disdainful things with his eyebrows. “Well, that’s charming,” he said. “I’ve had warmer welcomes in newly opened tombs. Now, Tony…I happened to overhear what went on in there between you and Barnes—”
A muscle moved in Lockwood’s cheek. “Did you?”
“I heard him giving you the brush-off yet again.”
Lockwood moved a paper cup from one part of the table to the other.
“If you’re wondering why,” Kipps went on, “it’s because right now Barnes isn’t his own man. He’s got high-up people from Fittes and Rotwell who are advising him, and they keep telling him the center of the cluster’s in the heart of Chelsea. He’s got to do what he’s told. There’s no mystery about it. That’s how DEPRAC works.”
I frowned at him. “DEPRAC monitors the agencies. Not the other way around.”
Kipps’s thin face quivered with amusement. “Do you think so? You’re so adorable, Carlyle.”
“And so you’ve come to crow about it,” Lockwood said.
“Well, yes—but also to see whether you wanted any extra personnel for your investigation.”
There was a pause in which the three of us sat frowningly, trying to decipher the insult hidden in this statement. We couldn’t find one, which made us frown all the more. Lockwood picked up the cup and moved it back to its original position. “You’re offering to help us?”
Kipps winced as if he’d just found something disagreeable stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “Not quite. I’m offering to take part. It would be me, Kate Godwin, and Bobby Vernon. You know my team.”
Lockwood stared. “I thought you were working for Barnes.”
“Not any longer. I’ve applied to transfer to other duties.”
“Because—”
“May I?” Kipps took a chair, folded himself in to it. He glanced back at the King’s Road barriers. “No matter what Barnes says, no one has a clue what’s going on in there. It’s a free-for-all, chaos every night, and it’s already cost me the life of one agent. It’s not going to cost me another. Nor do I want to sit quietly back, doing nothing. If you’ve got a worthwhile lead, I’ll work on it with you. That’s all.”
George, Lockwood, and I sat silent. It isn’t often we’re all lost for words, but it happened now. I kept alternating between staring at a pool of spilled coffee on the tabletop and glancing at Kipps. Ordinarily the coffee would have interested me more. Now I couldn’t help returning to our rivaclass="underline" to his oiled-back hair, his too-tight trousers and flawless jacket, the look-at-me jeweled pommel of his sword. Clearly his proposal was absurd. Of course it was. And yet…
“Well, it’s good of you,” Lockwood said, “but I’m sorry. It wouldn’t work. Teams have to work seamlessly, with absolute trust between agents. You can’t have endless bickering, and—Yes, George?”
George had raised a hand. “Surely a bit of bickering’s all right, now and again.”
“Hardly.”
“We do it.”
“No, actually we don’t. At least not very often. Or not at the key moments…Look, will you just shut up? I’ve forgotten what I was saying.” Lockwood ruffled his hair distractedly. “The point really is that bad things happen to disjointed teams. It’s dangerous out there.”
“Bad things can happen to any team,” Kipps said, after a silence. “As for the dangers, I can assure you I’m well aware of them.”
Lockwood held his gaze a moment. “Yes, of course you are,” he said. “I’m sorry. Look, it’s a kind offer, and I appreciate it, but I don’t think it would work.”
“I somehow didn’t think you would,” Kipps said. He stood. “Good day to you.”
He began to stalk away.
“Lockwood—” George began.
“Wait!” And that was me, pushing my chair back, standing up and glaring down at Lockwood. Why did I do it? On any other occasion I’d just have sat there, quietly going along with him. Not now. Not, somehow, after the previous night. A tension rose up inside me, needing to find expression, needing to get out. In part I just wanted to do something—to throw myself into a job that wasn’t merely the usual grind. I knew Holly had a host of new cases ready; I knew we’d be splitting up to deal with them. This was different: bigger, odder, perhaps more dangerous, and I didn’t want Lockwood’s pride preventing us from giving it a go.