‘We know he wants war. It’s how he’s going to achieve it that’s the puzzle. But it’s pretty clear that here he had a great deal invested in Kiefer giving this paper, whatever is in it. Look at the effort he’s gone to in order to throw us off the scent.’
‘So we have to stop Otto reading this paper?’ Caroline said.
‘I’d say so. Generally, thwarting Dr Tremaine’s plans is an excellent idea for everyone except Dr Tremaine.’
Twenty-eight
They split up. In the crowds that were thronging through the Academy it was the only sensible thing to do.
Aubrey decided to head for the library, the obvious place for Kiefer to do last-minute research. Kiefer wasn’t an evil person, he reminded himself as he pounded along the cloistered walkways of the Law Faculty, glad that the crowds had thinned this far away from the Academy Hall. But he wouldn’t be the last who’d be duped by Dr Tremaine, either.
The rambling collection of stone buildings that was the Medical Faculty led Aubrey directly to his destination, but he skidded to an abrupt halt when he saw the two people in earnest conversation in the forecourt of the library.
Handing Manfred an envelope was Mr Thomson, of Thomson and Sons, Fine and Rare Books.
Plots, plans and suppositions ran together in Aubrey’s mind and smashed into a million pieces. Frantically, he sorted through them, discarded most and started building a new whole theory.
The Security Intelligence Directorate wouldn’t have found anyone coming to the Trinovant bookshop to collect the secret documents because the owner was the one who the documents were for. Here he was in Holmland handing a suspiciously similar envelope to the suspiciously ubiquitous Manfred. Aubrey could see that in a short time, Holmland agents would be making a move on the precious guano cargoes.
He smiled. Tallis’s reworking of the document would mean the information may not be as helpful as Manfred thought.
Regardless, Thomson’s business was a perfect cover. Moving back and forward between Albion and the Continent, managing shipments of books and documents. Thomson would have plenty of opportunity to ferry useful information to whoever he was working for.
Another peek and Aubrey saw that Manfred and Thomson were moving off together, Manfred with a small leather suitcase in one hand. Aubrey chewed his lip, glanced in the direction of the prominent clocktower overtopping the Academy Hall, and set off after them.
After only a few minutes, they reached a laneway between a service building and the Biology Department. Aubrey crouched behind a large rose bush and almost groaned when Manfred and Thomson shook hands and parted. Thomson took the lane that led to Fransman Street and the city, while Manfred marched off toward the Academy Hall.
Indecision, then decision. Aubrey would make sure to get a report to the Security Intelligence Directorate about Thomson. The only books he’d be seeing when he got back to Albion would be in a prison library.
He’d follow Manfred.
Manfred strode through the campus. His suitcase swung like a pendulum and Aubrey was certain that nothing would have changed if the way had been packed with people. Manfred was a man of purpose, a man on a mission. He would have ploughed through them.
He reached the Academy Hall. The forecourt was still crowded with Holmland’s finest edging along, filing through the massive arched doors.
The crowds actually made Aubrey’s job of following Manfred easier as he could hide in the numbers, but he was conscious that time was growing short. Surely the Elektor and the Chancellor would be arriving soon, and that would be the signal for proceedings to begin.
Manfred surprised Aubrey by veering wide and heading along the outside of the Academy Hall. Aubrey was forced to ease his way through an untidy garden bed to keep the man in sight as the way narrowed to a service lane sandwiched between the long side of the Academy Hall and the Physics Laboratory. Manfred pressed on, past rubbish bins, piles of wooden boxes and the assorted debris of countless academic functions. When the laneway reached a brick wall, Manfred didn’t pause. Relentless, he climbed on top of an old, broken handcart and then vaulted over the wall. He landed on the other side with a grunt that Aubrey could hear from his position in a clump of acanthus.
The sound of the assembled multitudes in the Academy Hall was like the buzzing of the world’s largest bee hive. Aubrey stared at the brick wall, then at the hall, then back again. He rubbed his side and wished for more time.
Five more minutes. He’d follow Manfred for five more minutes and then he’d have to find Kiefer.
Aubrey ran through the garden bed, bent almost double. When he reached the cart he bounded, barely touched the wall and was over.
Only to see Manfred, waiting and smiling coldly at him. ‘What took you so long?’
Aubrey took a step backward and found how close he was to the wall when he had no more room to move. He felt a drop of sweat slide down his throat and disappear under his collar. ‘Manfred.’
Manfred clicked his heels together and bowed. The whole performance was heavy with irony. ‘I knew you were following me. Dr Tremaine warned me about your persistence.’
Aubrey was grimly satisfied when Manfred’s words confirmed what he’d been thinking. Manfred’s shadowy involvement in affairs was connected with the master of conspiracies, Dr Mordecai Tremaine. ‘He’ll betray you in the end, Manfred. He’s using you and then he’ll spit you out.’
Manfred shrugged. ‘He pays well, though. I’ll take his money for as long as I think it’s safe. Then I’ll get out.’
Aubrey nearly laughed. Greed tended to cloud one’s sense of timing.
‘But I have you now,’ Aubrey said. ‘One less henchman to help Dr Tremaine.’
Manfred picked up his suitcase. ‘You might be able to hold me. And then again you might not. So I prepared a little insurance.’ He pointed. A brown paper package was sitting against the rear wall of the Academy Hall. ‘A compressed spell. It’s due to go off at any minute, taking your Prince down with this place. You can stop me, or try to stop it. You can’t do both.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘You shouldn’t go up against him, Fitzwilliam. You don’t know what he is capable of.’
Aubrey was about to retort, but at that moment, Manfred hurled his empty suitcase. It spun straight at Aubrey, and he had to duck to stop it hitting him in the head. When he straightened Manfred was sprinting in the opposite direction, and was already halfway along the rear of the hall.
Aubrey was left alone.
The package looked harmless, a brown paper parcel such as one would see under the arm of a happy shopper. It looked as if someone had dropped it while hurrying to an appointment.
With urgency hammering at him, he closed his eyes and readied his magical senses. He had visions of the compression giving way at any second, but he steeled himself – and tried to ignore the way his heart was racing. Carefully, with as much delicacy he could summon, he extended his awareness.
With his magical pseudo-sight, the package blazed like a sun. It was so overwhelming that Aubrey didn’t know where to start. After taking a deep breath in order to steady himself, he imagined his magical senses as a thin needle, the better to probe the package. His lips drew back from his teeth as he edged his awareness closer, with as much gentleness as he could, looking for a spot of weakness in the magical inferno.
There, he thought, and he was in.
He hissed, then cut it off. He knew this magic. The texture, the construction, the signature. It was typical of the ex-Sorcerer Royal’s arrogance, not disguising his efforts, confident that the outcome would obliterate all traces of the origin of the spell – after it had obliterated much, much more.