‘D’yew liked metalled cheese?’
‘Sorry?’
‘D’yew like metalled cheese?’
‘Oh,’ said Vague Henri, after a pause. ‘Do I like melted cheese?’
‘Shwat I shed.’
But he didn’t mind. There was something miraculous to him still about the talk, buzz and laughter, the ordinary good times being had by almost everyone except the occasional maudlin boozer or angry bladdered toper. At chucking-out he left with the others, the inebriated and the sober. The Two Trevors followed at a cautious distance.
These experienced men were never careless, they were as prepared for the unexpected event as if one took place daily on the backs of their hands, but their position as they closed on Vague Henri was a little more hazardous than even these careful murderers had reckoned.
Cale’s reputation as an epic desperado had not so much overshadowed Vague Henri’s as caught it in a general eclipse. To the Two Trevors he was dangerous, no doubt – they knew his background as a Redeemer acolyte and that you would have to be unusually hard-wearing to make it to the age of fifteen – but they were not, in truth, expecting a nasty surprise, even though nasty surprises were something they were used to.
Be clear, two against one is hideous odds, particularly when it’s night and the Trevors are the two who want a word with you. But Vague Henri had already improved his chances: he knew he was being followed. They soon realized their mistake and stepped back into the shadows and called out to him.
‘Vague Henri, is it?’ said Trevor Lugavoy.
Vague Henri turned, letting them see the knife in his right hand and that he was easing a heartless-looking knuckle-duster onto his left.
‘Never heard of him. Buzz off.’
‘We just want a word.’
Vague Henri opened his mouth as if in joyous surprise and welcome. ‘Thank God,’ he said, ‘you’ve come with news of my brother, Jonathan.’ He moved forward. Had Lugavoy, who was ten yards in front of Kovtun, not been an assassin of a very superior kind he would have had Vague Henri’s knife buried in his chest. Unluckily for Vague Henri, Lugavoy instantly backed away, alarmed by the boy’s oddness as he stepped forward and struck out. The trick that had earned Vague Henri his nickname, the sudden incomprehensible question or answer intended to distract, had failed, if only just. Now they were alert and the balance in their favour once again.
‘We want to talk to Thomas Cale.’
‘Never heard of him, either.’
Vague Henri backed away. The Two Trevors moved apart and then forward – Lugavoy would make the first jab, Kovtun the second. There would be no more than four.
‘Where is he, your friend?’
‘No idea what you’re talking about, mate.’
‘Just tell us and we’re on our way.’
‘Come a bit closer and I’ll whisper it in your ear.’
They wouldn’t have killed him right away, of course. The knife driven in three inches deep just above the lowest rib would have taken the fight out of the boy long enough to get some answers. Never before in his life and only once afterwards was Vague Henri rescued – but tonight he was. In the almost silence of the trio’s scuffling manoeuvres there was a loud CLICK! from behind the two advancing men. All three knew the sound of the latch of an overstrung crossbow.
‘Hello, Trevors,’ said a cheerful voice from somewhere in the dark.
There was a moment’s silence.
‘That you, Cadbury?’
‘Oh, indeed it is, Trevor.’
‘You wouldn’t shoot a man in the back.’
‘Oh, indeed I would.’
But this wasn’t quite the rescue in the nick of time so loved by magsmen and yarn-spinners and their gullible audiences. In fact, Cadbury had no idea who the young person in the peculiar clothes was. For all he knew, he might entirely deserve the fate the Two Trevors were about to hand out to him – the people they were paid to murder usually did. He had not been watching over him but, only in a manner of speaking, the Two Trevors.
They’d had a change of heart about Kitty after talking to the seamstress; it was no longer plausible to imagine he wouldn’t become aware of their presence. So they’d observed the proper form by paying him a visit and, while declining to say what their business was in Spanish Leeds, assured Kitty that it would not conflict with his own. As he pointed out to Cadbury later, who were these pair of murderers to know what did or did not conflict with Kitty the Hare’s multitude of concerns? Kitty invited them to stay as long as they wished. The Two Trevors replied that they would almost certainly be gone by the following Monday. The result was that, at considerable expense and some difficulty, Cadbury had been keeping tabs on them, not the easiest of things to do. The reason he was here in person was that his watchful intelligencers had lost them for several hours and Cadbury had become nervous.
‘What now?’ said Trevor Lugavoy.
‘Now? Now you buzz off like the young man said. And I mean out of Spanish Leeds. Go on a pilgrimage to beg forgiveness for your shitload of sins. I hear Lourdes is particularly horrible at this time of year.’
And that was that. The Two Trevors moved to the wall opposite Vague Henri, but before they merged with the dark, Lugavoy nodded towards him. ‘See you.’
‘Lucky for you, old man,’ said Vague Henri, ‘that he came when he did.’ Then they were gone.
‘This way,’ said Cadbury. As Vague Henri stepped behind him he let go of the overstrung bow and with an enormous TWANG! the bolt shot into the blackness, bouncing between the narrow walls in a criss-cross series of pings. As Vague Henri and his not-exactly rescuer put on some speed down the road, a mildly offended distant voice called out to them, ‘You want to be careful, Cadbury, you could’ve had someone’s eye out.’
It was unfortunate that Cadbury and Vague Henri met under such circumstances. The latter was no fool and was getting less foolish all the time – but if someone saves your life only the most disciplined could fail to be grateful. And he was, after all, still just a boy.
Cadbury’s offer to stay with him for the evening was well taken and Vague Henri very much needed the several drinks he was offered on top of the ones he’d had already. No surprise then that he told Cadbury a great deal more than he should have. Cadbury was, when not murdering or carrying out doubtful business on behalf of Kitty the Hare, an amiable and entertaining presence, and as capable and desiring of affection and friendship as anyone else. In short, he quickly developed a fondness for Vague Henri, and not one like that of IdrisPukke’s for Cale that was particularly difficult to understand. It even had the mark of true friendship, if by that one means the willingness of friends to put aside their own interests for the other’s. Cadbury decided it might be better if Vague Henri were not drawn to Kitty the Hare’s attention in any more distinctive way than he already had been (as an unimportant familiar of Thomas Cale). Kitty was skilled at not letting you become aware of what he knew or did not know.
‘They are hoi oligoi of assassins,’ Cadbury replied to Vague Henri’s questions. ‘The Two Trevors cut down William the Silent in broad daylight, surrounded by a hundred bodyguards; they poisoned the lampreys of Cleopatra even though she had three tasters. When he heard what they’d done to her, the Great Snopes was so afraid that he ate nothing he hadn’t picked himself – but one night they smeared all the apples in his orchard using a strange device they made themselves. They leave no survivors. Whoever it is that Cale has upset, they have money and a great deal of it.’
‘I’d better disappear.’
‘Well, if you can vanish into thin air then by all means do so. But if you can’t evaporate you’re better off where you are. Not even the Two Trevors will ignore Kitty the Hare’s instruction to stay away from Spanish Leeds.’