He could use logic, or gather information before setting off, or he could try to elicit instructions from people who belonged, but instead he chose the time-honoured method of wandering around and keeping an eye on people who gave the impression of knowing where they were going – or those who were looking for the same thing he was.
As he wandered, he was reminded that he was in a place that was obsessed with security. Many doors bore admonitions about authorised personnel only, or security clearance required, or the blunter – and unmistakeable – ‘Keep Out’.
He had no desire to test how well policed these signs were and he gave them a wide berth.
Aubrey found Room 14a on the first floor. Along with Room 14b, Room 14c and Room 14d, they were in Corridor 14 and Aubrey congratulated himself on concluding the obvious once he blundered into the right part of the building.
He knocked and entered. A depressingly cheery man in a white coat looked up from his desk. ‘Forms on the desk, buff slip in the basket, then take off your clothes.’
Aubrey swallowed. He looked around at the screen, the scales and the patient table. His recruitment may be somewhat unconventional, but it looked as if he wasn’t going avoid the indignity of the medical examination.
After a chilly time of being thumped, prodded, jabbed and peered at, Aubrey was given a green slip to add to his sheaf of papers and directed to the Quartermaster’s section. The bored operative eyed Aubrey for something rather less than a split second, then he glanced at a list on the counter before stalking off and returning with a bundle of black clothing, a pair of boots, and a slip of blue paper. He pushed all of this on Aubrey. He was about to ask where he could change when the operative jerked his head to the curtained booths on the left.
The uniform – trousers, long-sleeved shirt, pullover and beret – was comfortable and fitted surprisingly well, apart from the beret, which was a little tight. Aubrey had difficulty believing that the grizzly man had picked his measurements so well and so quickly, but shrugged it off as a benefit of experience. He pulled on the black boots and they too fitted perfectly – even though the operative had no chance of seeing Aubrey’s feet.
Aubrey stood back and looked at himself in the mirror. This wasn’t the uniform he’d been accustomed to seeing on Craddock’s operatives, so he assumed it was the equivalent of a regular soldier’s barrack dress, to be worn while stationed at headquarters. Regardless, he thought the simple black was dashing. Understated but stylish was his estimation. He had a fleeting pang wishing Caroline could see him, and then he was struck by the guilt he’d managed to put to one side.
He hadn’t let Caroline know that George and he were going to enlist, and he hadn’t communicated with her in the forty-eight-hour home period either.
His motives for this were mixed, and he was still trying to sort them out for himself. To begin with, he wasn’t sure of her reaction, and he’d learned enough not to presume where Caroline was concerned. She might be cool about the decision, or outraged, or simply angry about it. On the other hand, she might be supportive. Not knowing, Aubrey had taken the coward’s route and avoided telling her at all.
Which is only going to make it worse when she finds out, he thought. He considered sending her a letter, but glumly knew that his mother would let her know before a letter could possibly reach her.
So much for my mission.
Aubrey rolled his civilian clothes into a bundle and fastened his belt around them to keep them together. When he exited, an eager-faced recruit was at the counter, drumming his fingers while waiting for his turn. Aubrey took a moment to examine the place with his magical senses.
He grinned. Right where the recruit was standing, a spell had been embedded in the floor. A little examination showed that it was a passive spell that measured and weighed a body in the vicinity, a neat and minor application of the Law of Dimensionality. The operative must have some connection on his side of the counter that directed him to the correct uniform components for each recruit. Aubrey’s tight beret must have been a hiccup in the spell, which was only to be expected with such a complex application.
The slip of blue paper directed Aubrey next door to a large room that was bright with electric light. He winced when he saw the walls lined with mirrors and the halfdozen barber chairs on each side. The rotund fellow in a white coat nearest the entrance pounced. ‘A customer! At last!’
His eleven colleagues watched enviously as Aubrey was guided to the nearest chair. ‘Now, what would you like?’ the barber cheerily said as he tied a smock around Aubrey’s neck. The white linen covered him entirely. ‘Something along the lines of the latest from Lutetia? Or were after the Venezian look?’
‘Venezian?’
The barber barked a laugh. ‘Only joking, youngster. Just one style here, so hold still.’
A few minutes of buzzing, clipping and slashing later, Aubrey grimaced at the image in the mirror. Over his shoulder, the barber was grinning. ‘Done, and it’s not going to grow back while you’re sitting there. Next!’
The barber whipped the sheet away. Aubrey was given a slip of yellow paper and pointed toward the door. Automatically, his hand went to his head to feel the closely shorn sides. On top, it was a little longer, but nothing like the luxurious crop he’d become used to. He had a fleeting pang, but he had more important things to worry about. The slip in his hand, for instance.
On his way to the main hall Aubrey found that his beret now fitted perfectly; his admiration of the measurement magic rose.
Everyone was going in the same direction. Most of the recruits were rubbing their arms and – to judge from their expressions – giving every impression that the main purpose of a medical examination was to make one feel quite unwell.
The main hall was enough like a lecture theatre to make Aubrey feel quite nostalgic. At the front was a dais, a long desk or bench, and a pair of lecterns. On the wall behind the dais was a large blackboard, which looked freshly cleaned.
Rows of hard, wooden chairs faced the stage. Aubrey found a spare seat three rows from the front, in between a middle-aged man who looked as if he’d just walked out of his position managing a bank, and a woman a few years older than Aubrey, who glanced at him through her glasses before clutching the bag on her lap as if he’d made a move to steal it. She was trembling and Aubrey had a great deal of sympathy. He’d been in Darnleigh House before. These new recruits must be uneasy, given the reputation of the Department and its chief.
Within a few minutes, the doors at the rear were closed. Aubrey twisted and looked to see that the hall was only a third filled and he nodded, thoughtfully. A hundred, he thought, maybe a hundred and twenty. Not many, but not bad for a couple of days’ recruiting.
Commander Craddock entered. As he strode to a lectern, he swept his gaze over the new recruits. From his face, Aubrey couldn’t tell if Craddock were impressed, dismayed or bored with what he saw.
Without any preamble, he began. ‘Most of you in this room did not volunteer for the Magic Department. Most of you went to enlist, in good faith, in more regular branches of the service. For that, I applaud you. For being diverted, I apologise. Each of our recruitment centres was given a list of names to look for, but they were also equipped with a device which detected incipient talents, those that will better serve Albion here rather than slogging in trenches or stoking engines in a battleship.’