“The front entrance is for their regular clients,” I said. “The mages aren’t going to walk in off the street.”
“But it’s definitely active?”
“The evidence would suggest that, but I can’t confirm it without going inside.”
Haken looked at me.
“It’s locked down pretty tight,” I said. “I haven’t identified anyone yet.”
“I’ve already scanned the easily accessible periods,” Abeyance said. “The problem is the location. If you want more useful information, I’ll need to be inside.”
Haken nodded. “I’m calling in the other teams. Get suited up.” He disappeared again.
The van took us to a nearby building. Although mages can theoretically just gate around London wherever they choose, in practice familiarity and the need for secrecy act as limits. Partly for that reason, the Council has a network of properties around London and England that can be used as transport nodes. This one was an office block—scanning it, the rest of the occupants seemed to be regular business folk, but one of the floors was empty except for us. The Council would own or rent it, and would leave it unused when it wasn’t needed, which was a reminder of just how enormous their resources were. London’s one of the most expensive cities in the world, yet the Council can afford to leave a place sitting empty just on the off chance that it might be used. When you have that kind of money, it gives you a lot of options.
The floor was an open-plan office, scattered tables and benches, and it was busy. Men in black fatigues were standing around in knots, talking or unpacking things from long bags. Their clothes were dark and nondescript, with no insignias or logos, but there was no hiding the black body armour or the guns at their belts. These were Council security, the guards and foot soldiers of the Light mages. If mage battles are a chess game, these guys are the pawns. The jobs that Council security do put them up against everything from Dark mages to magical predators to unlicensed constructs. Sometimes those guns they carry do them some good. Other times, they’re about as effective as thrown rocks. It’s a hard job, and it breeds hard men.
The Keepers were standing around a flimsy table at the centre of the floor, talking quietly amongst themselves. Everyone else was there already; we were the last. “Hey, hey!” Coatl called out as we walked over. “Where’s the bar?”
Haken ignored Coatl. “The Order of the Shield aren’t an option,” he was saying. “Council wants this low-key.”
“Right,” Lizbeth said sarcastically. “The one time those nuts would be useful and we’re not allowed to call them in?”
“The idea is not to escalate things.”
“Yeah, good luck with that,” Slate said.
“Fine,” Lizbeth said. “So we pick up someone from White Rose and squeeze them.”
“They won’t have the base location.”
Slate shrugged. “Get one of the mages, then.”
The argument went on. Abeyance stood with arms folded, not getting involved. Coatl had wandered off. I checked my phone: it was six o’clock. Time was running out.
“No,” Haken said at last. “We’re going with the original plan. We go in and talk.” He looked around. “Slate, Trask, Cerulean, you’re on point with me. We’ll go through the front door and find someone who can make the decision. Verus, you stay close. Watch for wards and tell us if there are going to be any surprises. Understand?”
I nodded.
“Lizbeth, you take a squad of four and stay with Abeyance. Cover the front and make sure no one does a runner. When it’s clear, escort Abeyance inside and cover her while she uses her timesight.”
“Babysitting?” Lizbeth rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“Coatl—” Haken looked around. “Where is he?”
“Think he went to the bathroom,” I said.
Trask laughed. Haken looked as though he wanted to swear, but controlled himself. “He’s taking another squad and covering the back.” Where he can’t screw anything up was the unspoken message. He looked around. “Any questions?”
There was a few seconds’ silence. “If we’re going to do it, let’s do it,” Slate said at last.
“Okay,” Haken said. “Move out.”
There was no conversation on the journey back. The van ride was silent but for the rumble of the engine and the sound of the city streets around us, and everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. There’s a particular kind of tension you get when you’re in a group going on a dangerous mission. You’re isolated, yet at the same time you’re intensely conscious of the people around you. If you trust them, that’s your reassurance. You know you’re not going in alone, and that there’ll be someone to back you up.
If you don’t trust them . . . well, that’s not very reassuring at all.
I studied the other mages in the van. Who would be the most likely to stick a knife in my back? Slate didn’t like me. Neither did Lizbeth. Haken seemed to be on my side, but he was playing some game of his own.
Maybe if I looked at it in terms of magic types. Haken was a fire mage. Slate and Trask were death and water. Abeyance was a time mage, Cerulean an illusionist, Coatl used mind magic, and Lizbeth was a water/air hybrid. Based on that, it was Cerulean and Coatl I should be worrying about. They were the ones who could screw me over without anyone else noticing . . .
I shook my head in frustration. This was impossible. I didn’t know any of these people—until today I hadn’t known that half of them even existed. There were people who spent their whole lives immersed in Council politics, tracking the shifting loyalties and affiliations of the Light mages. Divination or no divination, I couldn’t figure it out in just a few hours. I’d have to play this by ear. I didn’t know whom I should be watching, but my magic would give me a few seconds’ warning if anyone made a move on me, and that would just have to be enough. I needed to focus on being ready for whatever came at me.
The van came to a halt. Haken was speaking into his sleeve, giving quiet instructions to the security men in the other two vans. I could picture what would be going on inside: guns being loaded, equipment double-checked.
I waited.
“Go,” Haken said.
The van doors opened and we streamed out into artificial light. We were in a subterranean parking garage near the White Rose facility in Bank, the other two vans parked on either side of ours, lined up in military precision. The security detail were heading up the ramp. At the top, one of the men was talking to the tollbooth attendant, who was trying to reply and stare at us at the same time. We walked past, up onto the street, and around the corner.
We got a lot less attention than I’d expected. I think it was the lack of fuss. No one ran or shouted; we just moved at a brisk walk, and while the odd passerby turned to stare, the looks they gave us were puzzled ones, as if they weren’t quite sure what was going on. As we moved down the street Haken made hand signals. Coatl split off with four men, Lizbeth and Abeyance with two more. The rest of us turned the corner and headed straight down the alleyway.
Old buildings loomed over us, orange and brown in the artificial light, and unmarked doors passed by to either side. We were in detection range now. I hadn’t seen any cameras on the White Rose house, but it was just a matter of time before they figured out we were there. Haken signalled; Slate and Trask accelerated and I quickened my pace to keep up. Slate reached the door first and banged on it.
There was a moment’s silence, then with a rattle a small slot opened at eye level and I saw the outlines of a face. “What?”
“Hey, mate,” Slate said. “I’m Keeper Slate of the Order of the Star. You’ve got a count of ten to open this door before I break it.”
The eyes in the face saw us and widened. The viewing window rattled shut and I heard a muffled shout. “Hey, Mr. Seer,” Slate said over his shoulder. “Anyone going to get hurt when I smash this down?”