Word of Honour

Aubrey hated it; he was reminded of rot and decay and death, the appallingly physical side of his struggle to keep his body and soul together.

'Impressive,' Caroline said and her words echoed in the empty space.

The concourse was too large a space for the lantern to illuminate fully. It became a place of shadows and rippling light. Mounds of broken furniture became hulking monsters ready to pounce. Heaped-up mattresses were rotting balefully. Water hadn't swept the place clean, it had merely turned it into a garden of decay.

'Cheery place,' George muttered. 'Can't see why this Crew made it their home.'

'Beggars can't be choosers,' Caroline said, 'but this is depressing.'

'It was better than this,' Aubrey said, 'before the flood.'

'It was cosy? Homely?' Caroline said.

'Not exactly. But it was better.'

The doorways into the inner tunnel stared at them.

If anything, the blackness there was more intense than the shadows that swirled around them. Hungrier, Aubrey thought, but decided this was not an entirely helpful – or morale-building – description.

'And you think Dr Tremaine is somewhere around here,' George said.

'I didn't say that. It's the last place Maggie and her Crew were seen. I thought we could do a little poking around.'

'But Dr Tremaine is on your mind.'

'He could be. In a healthy, non-obsessed sort of way.'

'It's a fine place to hide,' Caroline said. She went over and leaned through the nearest gap. 'You could scurry around for years down here.'

'Like a rat,' George said.

Aubrey hummed a little. 'Which way is the Bank of Albion from here?'

Caroline frowned, then turned a little before pointing. 'That way.'

'Far?'

'No, not really. Less than a mile, in a straight line.'

'That's what I thought.' Aubrey sauntered along the concourse for a moment, hands behind his back. Then he stopped. 'I wonder if we can get there from here.'

'The Bank of Albion?' George asked. 'Why don't we just pop upstairs and hail a cab?'

'The bank isn't open at night, George. Besides, it's not what's on top that I'm interested in.'

'Aubrey,' Caroline said, a pensive expression on her face. 'When is the Counting of the Coins?'

She was remarkable. Aubrey felt a wave of desire and admiration, but it was overlaid with the sweet, painful ache of knowing that he could do nothing about it.

'You've seen it, haven't you?'

'Seen what?' George asked.

'The connection. It's come together.'

'I'd appreciate it if you'd be a little less obscure,' George said. 'Slowly now.'

'The Counting of the Coins is on Monday,' Caroline said. 'A good part of the coinage from all over the kingdom is in the vaults of the Bank of Albion, waiting for the King.'

'He won't actually count the coins,' Aubrey said. 'He just picks up a few and shuffles them from hand to hand. After that, it's considered that he's counted them all. The King's touch has blessed the lifeblood of the realm and that blessing will spread from coin to coin to coin.'

'A ritual important to a nation of shopkeepers,' Caroline said.

'That's right,' George said. 'I remember old Mr Tompkins at the Post Office near home. Whenever a gold sovereign went over his counter, he'd hold it up and say "Been blessed by the King himself, that has." '

'A tenth of all the commercial gold in the land has been shipped to the vault, too, ready for this,' Caroline said. 'Bullion from the regional banks. After the King has done his duty, it all goes back, just like the coins.'

'So now would be a perfect time to steal the whole lot?' George said.

'Perfect,' Aubrey said.

'Wait, wait,' George said. 'They tried to break into the bank. Last week. Unsuccessfully.'

'Exactly. And security has been doubled and redoubled. The tunnel was filled in, the underground approaches to the bank have been fortified, reinforced, made impregnable.' Aubrey rubbed his hands together. 'What a perfect time to break in. No-one would suspect it.'

Caroline nodded. 'It fits Tremaine's double-dealing mind. Organise a few dispensable types, promise them riches, let them do some of the dirty work, then watch as they make a botch of the whole thing. Watch, and learn.'

'It's just like him,' Aubrey agreed. 'It was a blind, a feint, and it's now lulled everyone into a false sense of security.'

George looked unconvinced. 'Or a true sense of security? The bank is alert now.'

'Knowing Dr Tremaine, a plan is no good without a plan hidden inside it, like one of those Cossack dolls.'

Aubrey went to the gap and began to climb down into the hydraulic tunnel. 'Let's see if we can go underground to the bank, shall we?'

The source of the flood hadn't been repaired. The gaping hole still yawned onto the unknown, but no water cascaded from it.

As Aubrey leaned in through the rent in the iron wall and held up the lantern, the skin on his hand began to prickle. It was a rapidly intensifying sensation that worked its way down to the bone.

Magic.

He closed his eyes and braced himself for a moment. Then he let his innate magical sense feel the residue of the powerful spells that had been in this area.

Stability. Preservation. Solidity. The magic had something to do with these factors. But what caused his heart to pound was the flourish at the end. It was a cryptic, oblique signature but it had a resonance that was unmistakeable to Aubrey.

It was the work of Dr Mordecai Tremaine.

'Are you stuck there, old man?' George said from over his shoulder. 'D'you need a boost?'

'We're on the right track. Dr Tremaine has been spell-casting here.'

'Good,' Caroline said and Aubrey heard the determination in her voice. If he was obsessed with Dr Tremaine, then how would Caroline's preoccupation be described? Aubrey paused a moment. He could still hear sounds of rushing water in the distance. As well, the heavy, throbbing thud of machinery came to him, a regular, pulsing beat. It was disturbing, setting his teeth on edge.

He handed the lantern to George, then he scrambled through. Caroline came next, easing herself past the sharp iron edges. George used his pry bar to help himself over.

It was a shaft, more than a tunnel, and it showed signs of recently being bored: round, a good ten feet in diameter, and the earth on all sides appeared compressed. Along the bottom of the shaft, the flood had left a tide of debris: broken bricks, roofing tiles, glass, timber. Aubrey crouched and inspected the rubbish more closely to find a number of long steel cables snaking through the detritus. They were spotted with rust, but otherwise looked surprisingly new.

Puzzled, Aubrey stood and ran his fingers along the wall, then wiped his hands together. The earth was damp and crumbling.