A shout came from the opposite side of the courtyard. One of the operatives had a long pole and was fishing about in the denuded branches of an elm tree. Craddock hurried to her side and helped retrieve a singed and battered object that flapped about in the breeze.
'Eyes down,' the operative next to Aubrey – a few yards away – growled, and Aubrey went back to poring over the broken floorboards. He spread his hands, fingers stretched, as if warming them over a fire. He felt the buzzing magical leftover, and he did his best to break it into its constituent parts. What was the exact nature of the spell? Where did it come from? And, more importantly, could he detect any fragment that hinted at the final element of a spell, the identifying signature? He grappled with what he was sensing, but although he could identify parts, he couldn't grasp the larger picture.
He needed more information, and there was only one way to find it.
Eyes down.
Some hours later darkness fell, putting a halt to any further investigation of the site. Around the corner, in the Incident Room set up in the vestry office of St Olaf 's, he listened to each of the operatives report their findings to Craddock. The operatives were packed in, shoulder to shoulder. Craddock stood at a desk, his hands behind his back. He had the manner of a man who'd prepared himself for the worst, only to have his expectations exceeded.
Aubrey sat against the wall and felt as if he'd been hammered all over by gnomes with rolling pins. He knew he'd have bruises in the morning. Caroline sat next to him and listened carefully. He wondered where she'd been while he was intent on his magical business. He started to ask her, but she hushed him with a look.
The most interesting contribution came from the tree raider, the operative who had fished the object from the tree. It was placed on a table for all to examine. Aubrey peered over shoulders to see that it was the remains of a leather bag.
'No doubt that this contained the spell?' Craddock asked.
'None,' the pole-wielding operative said. 'Feel the residue. I'm surprised the bag lasted as long as it did.'
Craddock looked up. 'Fitzwilliam. You were there. Tell us what you saw.'
The operatives drew back and allowed Aubrey space. He took a deep breath, regretted it when a pulled muscle tugged on his ribs, then reported on the events leading up to the explosion. He went on to describe the thundercloud's passage and disappearance. He began to tell of Bloch's strange final words, but he held back. He told himself that he wanted to clear up any possible doubt that it was Dr Tremaine that Bloch had meant. It was an excellent reason, he decided. 'Weather magic,' he concluded.
'Obviously,' Craddock said.
Aubrey shuffled a little. 'The bag could have been put there by anyone at the meeting.'
'Or it might have been placed there before the meeting by persons unknown.'
The operatives – and Craddock – turned to see Caroline standing. 'True,' Craddock said. 'But not very helpful.'
'It's only helpful if it reminds us that our potential suspects are not limited to those at the meeting,' Caroline pointed out.
'And that the suspects need not be magicians,' Aubrey put in.
'Go on,' Craddock said.
'Well,' Aubrey said, 'one of the uses of compression spells is to allow non-magicians to use magic. They can transport a spell, site it, then let it go off, provided the original magician has limited the time variable accurately enough.' Aubrey blinked. Is that what happened on the Electra?
'And that's a question,' Caroline said. 'Did the spell go off when intended? Or was it too late? Or too early?'
'Did you two work this performance out beforehand?' Craddock said, with chilly amusement.
Aubrey looked at Caroline. She looked at him. 'No,' they said simultaneously.
'Pity.' Craddock moved on. 'It is as you say. Many questions. Few answers.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Unless you two have answers as well as questions?'
'No, nothing helpful,' Aubrey said. 'But you could ask Rokeby-Taylor if he saw anything suspicious. He was here right before the explosion.' Aubrey paused. Rokeby-Taylor was in the Electra, too, when it was magically attacked. Unlucky, or . . .
Aubrey's train of thought was completely disrupted when Craddock went on: 'Rokeby-Taylor? Good idea. He's on Tallis's payroll so he's used to keeping an eye open.'
Aubrey actually swayed a little at the unexpectedness of the revelation. Rokeby-Taylor working for Special Services? With his connections he could be a useful source of information, however unlikely an operative he seemed. And it could provide another reason for his presence at St Olaf 's, other than generosity.
Or mayhem.
Craddock looked at the frowning faces of his operatives. 'Does anyone else have anything? No? Right, back to Darnleigh House with the lot of you. Fitzwilliam, Miss Hepworth, would you mind waiting behind a moment?'
Obediently, the operatives filed out.
'What is it, Commander?' Aubrey asked, but he was stunned into silence by the figure who slipped into the room.
'Ah, Manfred,' Craddock said. Aubrey had thought that Craddock had looked tired, but any sign of exhaustion vanished at the entrance of the Holmland performer. 'Let me introduce Miss Hepworth and Mr Fitzwilliam. You've been asking to meet them and here they are.'
The Great Manfred bowed. 'I am honoured to meet both of you. Especially the son of the Prime Minister.'
He wore a dark grey topcoat over a dark suit. His black gloves and bowler hat looked expensive. Aubrey decided that the sleight-of-hand business must pay well.
Or perhaps it was the spying business.
'It's been Manfred's investigating that suggested all is not well between Holmlander groups in this country,' Craddock said.
'Indeed,' Manfred said. He seemed remarkably unaffected by the attack. Aubrey wondered what he was accustomed to. 'It would appear as if the obvious culprits come from a rival group here. Count Brandt has made few friends in the established Holmlander community.'
Aubrey frowned. 'So you don't think it's the work of the Holmland espionage agencies?'
'Unlikely. My information does not support this conclusion. I have made the recommendation that your government may have to begin interning Holmlanders who are in sensitive positions.'
'What?' Caroline said. 'How can such an action be taken in good conscience? We're not at war.'
'Not yet,' Manfred said.
'But it's inevitable,' Aubrey said, 'isn't it?'
Manfred shook a finger at Aubrey. 'Mr Fitzwilliam, you should come to our country, you know. Top members of the Circle are eager to have you visit, so you could see for yourself how strong the pro-Albion sentiment is. There is a chance we can stop this war before it starts.'
'The Circle?'
'Bloch mentioned them,' Caroline said. 'Arguing with Brandt.'