"He'll be fine. Stop worrying," she said over her shoulder.
"What if he cries?" I asked her.
She stopped and turned. "Will you stop it! This is the first time I've managed to get away and I will not have you spoiling it for me by reminding me at every verse-end that I've left him behind. If he cries then I expect Lesley will change his nappy. That's what I would do if he cried. For goodness sake, Niall, you have to stop fretting. You've been a father before; you know they don't die if you leave them alone for five minutes."
"Yeah, well. I felt more in control the first time, and look where that got me."
"So that's it, you're not fretting about the baby, you're fretting about Alex." She turned and continued down the corridor.
"I tried to reach her again last night."
"And?"
"Little fragments of things, but nothing you could make any sense of. She's still blocking me. Who knows who these people are that she's fallen in with."
"She doesn't want you interfering, and the way you've been behaving I can hardly blame her." Blackbird stopped at a Tjunction in the corridor. "They've repainted all this since I was last here, but it's this way. At least I think so." She marched off along the corridor again.
"What if something happens to her? What if the authorities catch her and imprison her again?"
"Do you honestly think they're going to catch her? The guards at the Tower couldn't, so what makes you think the police are going to do it? And if they do? What are you going to do about it? March in there and demand her release? Bring the penal system crashing down around their ears?"
"I rescued her last time," I pointed out.
"So you keep reminding me," said Blackbird. "Down here." She took the staircase that led down to the floor below ground.
"Who is this guy, anyway?" I asked her as she pushed through double doors into a corridor lined with small rooms, mostly vacant, with the occasional sign indicating that offices were occupied by postgraduates or administrative staff.
"I met him at an academic gathering and we got chatting. He was very charming and said I should look him up."
"You mean he chatted you up?"
"Well I don't think he was interested in my research, if that's what you mean."
"Did you sleep with him?"
Blackbird stopped and turned so fast that I almost walked into her. "That's a very ungallant question, Niall Petersen. Could it be that you are pricked by jealousy?"
"It's not me that was…"
"Enough! Stop that," she said. "It's unbecoming and quite inappropriate. I've had many lovers and I do not intend to discuss them with you. Who I chose to take to my bed before I met you is none of your business."
"Except we're going to meet this guy and I'd like to know how the land lies," I pointed out.
"We have not spoken for some time, and I am expecting that he will be surprised to see me. We are old friends and nothing more."
"If you say so." Already I didn't like the guy.
"I do, and we are here to ask a favour, so I would prefer that you refrain from upsetting him."
She continued down the corridor through another set of double doors. In this area the lights came on as we approached, making it look as if no one had been here in days.
"I haven't said a word."
"You don't have to," she said. "We need Gregor's knowledge if we're going to figure out what Alex and her friends are up to before Garvin does. I think that's in everyone's interests, don't you?"
She came to a side corridor and turned down it, coming to a wooden door with a sticky note on it. The note said, "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here".
"Hell?" I asked Blackbird.
"Gregor's lab," said Blackbird, knocking on the door. There was no answer. She knocked again louder.
"Maybe he's not home and it's been a wasted journey," I suggested.
"Except for the notice on the door. It's his little joke," Blackbird explained. She knocked again louder and opened the door.
Inside was an expansive room well-lit by overhead fluorescent lights. There were three large benches, each crammed with equipment and scraps of notes. Broad-leafed plants stood in tall glass cylinders wrapped around with copper wire connected with crocodile clips to an array of car batteries. A tank of liquid stood to one side, filled with murky looking water and illuminated by a black-lamp that hummed quietly. It looked like the specs floating around in there were glowing.
"What subject did you say he was teaching?" I asked.
"I didn't. He teaches modern history, we met at an academic convention."
"This doesn't look like history to me."
"His research follows a rather wider remit. Gregor is a scientist and a magician — he's into all sorts of esoteric ideas and sees no distinction between science, philosophy and magic. Last time I was here he was trying to show me a perpetual motion machine."
"That's not possible," I stated with some certainty.
"You're a fine one to talk about what is and is not possible," she reminded me. "Gregor, are you here?"
"Can't you see I'm busy?" A voice came from a smaller office attached to the lab. "The tutorials have all been rescheduled — new dates have been sent out by email. Check your spam filter — it's probably in the spam folder."
"Gregor, I'm not one of your students," she called through to the office.
"Then what are you doing in my…" His face appeared around the door. "Veronica! How absolutely delightful to see you. How long have you been there?"
A barrel chested, moustached grandee of a man swept out of the office and picked up Blackbird in a bear-hug embrace, kissing both her cheeks noisily twice.
"Mmmwa! Mmmwa! It is fantastic you are here. I have something to show you. Have you heard of wave energy stimulation? Do you have a bodyguard now?"
"Gregor, this is Niall. He's helping me with some research and we wanted to pick your brains."
He turned to me and extended a hand. "Gregor Leyonavich, at your service." He wore generous sideburns which almost connected with his moustache. Taking his hand, I shook it firmly and slowly.
Gregor smiled. "Sword callous, right hand, a long weapon and heavy by the feel of it, not a practice weapon and not one of those toys, those lightweight foil things. I was joking about the bodyguard, Blackbird, but maybe this is not a funny joke?"
I glanced at Blackbird.
"Sherlock Holmes is one of Gregor's heroes. He observes everyone and everything," she said.
"Sherlock Holmes never existed. He was a fictional character," I pointed out.
"Quite so, but in his genius, Conan Doyle invented the ultimate rationalist," said Gregor, "sceptical about everything but assuming nothing, evaluating all possible alternatives. You have muscle underneath that jacket, which means you work at it. Your weight is balanced towards your toes, so you have been trained. You are no amateur, I think. Your right shoulder is higher than your left, which implies a bias to one side, so not a master swordsman, but very competent. Not often you come across a trained swordsman these days. But when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever you have left, no matter how unlikely, is the truth."
"In my experience the truth is in the eye of the beholder," I said.
"Well said, my friend, but without truth we cannot have beauty, which brings me back to the delightful Veronica. My dear, they told me you had sold your soul to the Americans."
"I'm back for a little while," said Blackbird, "but I am not advertising my presence. I have no wish to get sucked back into academic rivalry."
"An overrated occupation at best," agreed Gregor. "Come, let me show you my wave energy demonstrator." He gestured across the lab to a machine in the corner. "One day, machines like this will power entire cities."
He went to a bank of switches and relays on the wall and clicked on a pair of large red switches. Boxes began to hum and lights flashed on displays. A laptop computer stopped showing screensaver pictures and began displaying a graph with flat-line red and green readings.