They were back in von Stralick’s parlour. Afternoon light was coming through the curtained windows. The chairs were in disarray around the table. Four were pushed back, one was lying on the floor.
In the middle of the table was the Tremaine pearl.
Caroline had returned, to his relief, as had George and von Stralick. All of them had adopted poses of fight or flight and Aubrey found time to be amused that the ‘Fight’ option was a 2 – 1 winner. Von Stralick was the exception, being halfway to the door before he realised that Kiefer was the source of the extraordinary noise. Within two steps, however, he had slowed, resumed an appearance of calm, and was brushing off his lapels. ‘We are back, Otto.’
Kiefer was gaping at them, moving his head slowly from side to side, as if he thought it was all some sort of trick. Then he caught sight of the telephone in his hand and he flinched. ‘I was about to call the police.’
George stepped over. He took the earpiece and replaced it. ‘No need.’
Caroline dropped her hands and relaxed from her fighting pose. She moved to Kiefer and guided him to a chair. ‘We’re safe, Otto.’
He sagged with a huge exhalation of air. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief he extracted from his pocket after some fumbling. ‘Thank goodness. But where did you go? When I came back, you were nowhere.’
‘How long ago was that?’
The question perplexed Kiefer for a moment. ‘A minute or two?’ he hazarded.
‘It seemed like more,’ muttered von Stralick.
‘That’s what happens when you mess around with magic,’ George said, affecting a pose of someone who encountered the outlandish every day. Aubrey nearly laughed.
‘But what happened?’ Kiefer repeated, and Aubrey launched into an account of their time inside the Tremaine pearl. By the time the story had finished, with interjections, corrections and asides offered by Caroline, George and von Stralick, Kiefer was aghast. He shook himself all over, like a dog emerging from a river, and he held up a single, long finger. ‘So we now have the way to our revenge, then?’
This time it was the turn of Aubrey, Caroline, George and von Stralick to be taken aback. Aubrey scratched his chin. ‘I suppose you’re right. If we can find the missing part of Sylvia in Holmland, and unite her, then we will have the perfect lure for Dr Tremaine. He won’t be able to resist.’ Not with the sense of guilt he must feel about his sister, Aubrey decided.
He looked at the others. Caroline’s expression was grim, as if she’d fastened her will on a course of action. George looked uneasy, unconvinced, and he glanced at Aubrey. Von Stralick and Kiefer, however, were eager, hounds who’d just scented a fox within easy reach.
Aubrey wasn’t obsessed with revenge. He’d come to terms with his antipathy for Dr Tremaine. He was happy to work against the ex-Sorcerer Royal, but he wasn’t about to sacrifice everything in a headlong pursuit of the rogue magician. He was prepared to wait, to plan, to find the best opportunity to strike.
But Kiefer, von Stralick and Caroline were different. He wondered if their enmity burned too brightly and was blinding them to the realities of their situation, the dangers they faced.
‘Come now,’ von Stralick said, seeing Aubrey’s indecision. ‘This is a chance. You said yourself that she was his weakness.’
‘She is. I have no doubt about that.’
Caroline touched him on the arm. It was light, almost hesitant, but he would have noticed it in the middle of an artillery barrage. ‘Let us take our chance.’
Aubrey ran a hand through his hair. ‘Anyone fancy a trip to Holmland?’
Late afternoon was sliding into evening when Aubrey, Caroline and George left von Stralick’s residence. A fine carriage went past with two charming, grey-haired ladies taking in the gentle end of the March day. Aubrey smiled and received a warm nod for his trouble.
Kiefer had hurried off immediately. He was bubbling with the possibilities presented by Aubrey’s resolution, but he claimed he had some important research to undertake on pressure containment. Von Stralick didn’t make any effort to question him about his plans. Aubrey thought that watching over his erratic relative was proving to be more onerous than von Stralick may have expected.
When von Stralick shepherded them out in a polite but firm manner, Aubrey decided that some communication with Holmland was about to take place behind the closed door.
They walked off in silence.
‘You seem distracted,’ Aubrey said to Caroline.
‘I’ve just remembered I promised to help Mother with a few things.’
‘I see. And how is this is a problem?’
‘It’s not a problem at all. I simply must be off.’
‘Ah.’ With mixed feelings, Aubrey saw a motor cab trundling their way. It responded to his wave and drew up smartly. He was pleased he’d been able to help Caroline with such alacrity, but disappointed to be deprived of her company.
She slid back the window of the cab. ‘Now, don’t do anything without me.’
‘Anything?’ Aubrey said. ‘That’s rather all-encompassing. I mean, breathing, for a start...’
‘Don’t do anything about going to Holmland.’ Caroline glowered at him, then spared George a glare as well. ‘If I know you two, you’ll be off on the morning train.’
It sounded appealing, striking while the iron was hot, but Aubrey put a hand on his heart. ‘We won’t.’ He gave a dramatic sigh. ‘It’s a shame. I was sure I heard of a band of itinerant puppet players who were heading toward Fisherberg. I thought George and I could join them, in disguise. Or was it a troupe of freestyle Morris Dancers?’
‘Not Morris Dancers, old man.’ George shuddered. ‘You know I’m scared of Morris Dancers.’
A tiny dimple appeared in Caroline’s cheek and her eyes were merry. ‘As long as we understand each other.’
With that, she was off, leaving Aubrey thinking that that was the last thing he’d ever claim.
Aubrey watched the cab round the corner, and then he turned to George. ‘Now, I didn’t know you were afraid of Morris Dancers. How did this come about? You were frightened by a particularly horrible Morris Dancer when you were small?’
George put his nose in the air and sniffed. ‘It’s not something I like to talk about.’
Aubrey loved a mystery but he currently was in a position where he had to prioritise them. ‘You know, George, I think it could be time to drop in on my father. He might be able to help us with some background on the Holmland situation.’
George brightened. ‘Just in time for dinner, I’d say. At his office?’
‘We can be there in fifteen minutes. Mother will be there too, you know.’
‘Jolly good. They say he has a fine table there.’
‘And a fine appreciation of what’s going on in Holmland,’ Aubrey replied. Which is just what I need, he thought.
The Prime Minister’s Offices was a deceptively bland name for one of the most important buildings in the realm. A short walk from the Houses of Parliament – for convenience – No.4 Credence Lane was a four-storey sandstone building in a short cul-de-sac that had once been a salubrious neighbourhood, but now all the houses had been converted to various departmental warrens by the innumerable parts of the Civil Service. Aubrey remembered the place well from when Sir Darius had last been Prime Minister. He knew that the tenants of the buildings in Credence Lane were constantly in flux as the departments rose and fell in importance. Numbers 2 and 6, for instance, were currently occupied by shadowy sections of the Foreign Office. They’d displaced the Ministry of Trade and an influential section of the Department of Inland Revenue. When a taxation department was considered unimportant, Aubrey reflected, times were strange indeed.