'Which door?' George shouted.
'The Old Man of Albion!'
At that moment, revolver fire cracked – once, twice, three times. Aubrey dived for where he hoped the floor was and flung his hands over his head. Exactly what good that would do, he wasn't sure, but he was grateful when the floor was where it promised to be.
A dark-clad figure loomed in front of him. Ears ringing, Aubrey lifted his head, but all he could see were black trousers and a revolver dangling at knee height in front of him. He was relieved to see that the legs in those trousers were infinitely more attractive than Dr Tremaine's.
'Get up, Aubrey,' Caroline said. 'I think I hit him.'
'You hit him?'
'Oh yes. He managed to lock the Old Man of Albion behind him, but I got in three shots before it materialised fully. And I don't miss. Not at that range.'
'I don't doubt it,' Aubrey said fervently.
IT TOOK SOME TIME – AND SEVERAL TELEPHONE CALLS – before they could establish their credentials to the satisfaction of the nightwatchman who'd been aroused by the commotion. Despite Aubrey's best efforts at persuasion, he kept them waiting behind the locked, barred gates of the Vault Room. Even after Caroline slid the revolver to him, the nightwatchman continued to eye them with the sort of caution that rabid dogs usually inspired.
It was only when Sir Darius appeared – looking immaculate, even though it was nearly four o'clock in the morning – with Sir Norman Hood that the nightwatchman used his keys in the lock. His every movement promised that some time soon he'd be saying to someone: 'You'll never guess what happened at work tonight . . .'
'Miss Hepworth,' Sir Darius said immediately, 'you're unhurt?'
'I'm quite well, Sir Darius. Thank you.' She nodded at Sir Norman.
Bells sounded from the street. 'That will be the police,' Sir Darius said. 'I alerted them. Be prepared for several squads, plus people from Special Services and the Magisterium.'
'Of course, Prime Minister,' Sir Norman said. 'The only thing that could be done, in the circumstances.'
'Please let those in charge know that I'll have these young people at Maidstone, ready for interview once they've had some sleep.'
Sir Norman huffed and puffed like a steam locomotive and shepherded them through the hordes of uniformed officers that were pounding over the marble floor of the main banking chamber. The whole bank was lit, and Aubrey wondered what nocturnal passers-by would be thinking. All-night bank-note counting? A bank tellers' knees-up?
The Oakleigh-Nash was waiting outside the bank, Stubbs ready at the rear door. Aubrey was reassured to see that underneath the driver's greatcoat was the tell-tale shape of a pistol.
'Miss Hepworth,' Sir Darius said. 'I hope you'll accept an invitation to a room for the night at Maidstone. I'll contact your mother the first thing in the morning, but I don't feel that rousing her this early would be polite or helpful.'
'Thank you, Sir Darius. I appreciate it.'
He bowed, slightly. 'I'm glad. I'm sure the authorities might have insisted on taking you, otherwise.' He assisted her into the car, then glanced at Aubrey. 'You have a story to report, Aubrey?'
'It's Dr Tremaine, sir. He's definitely back.'
'You're sure?'
'It was him, Sir Darius,' George said. 'No mistaking it.'
'You've saved the nation again, I suppose?' his father said.
Aubrey gestured at his friends. 'We've saved the nation again.'
Aubrey stood with one hand on the polished roof of the Oakleigh-Nash. The sky was brighter, the buildings about more distinct. 'A new day,' he said, and it felt good.
Even though his exertions had left him exhausted, bruised and drained, it still felt good. The night's escapade was thrilling, hair-raising and utterly, utterly addictive.
He wanted more of it. The trouble was, he wanted more of everything.
And right now, he thought, some sleep is what I want most.
He yawned.
Nineteen
SATISFACTION AT HAVING FOILED DR TREMAINE'S PLOT gave Aubrey some solace as he suffered from the effects of his exertions in the Vault Room of the Bank of Albion. He was exhausted, but had found it hard to sleep. He had a thundering headache and he was dismayed to find that he'd had a nosebleed in the night. His pillow looked as if someone had cut his throat and he had to expend some energy to calm Tilly, who brought his morning cup of tea, when she saw the gore.
Despite the summons to an urgent meeting in the library, Aubrey took his time, limping through his ablutions and doing his best to gather himself before fronting to what he imagined would be an inquisition. He chose a bold, green-striped tie, hoping it would take some attention away from his slightly trembling hands.
His satisfaction dwindled as he washed his pale, drawn face and saw in the mirror his deeply bloodshot eyes – evidence of the consequences of his decision to return to magic. He shrugged. He would have to endure it.
The head of the Urban Police was John Pierce, an experienced officer in his sixties, large-framed, greyhaired, alarmingly whiskered. He was renowned as the scourge of villains throughout the city, and a man with forty hard years on the force.
Yet he sat behind the table, looking both wary and intimidated by the two men either side of him – Tallis of the Special Services and Craddock of the Magisterium.
While he was a phlegmatic man, he could not have been unaware of the tension between Tallis and Craddock. Without a harsh word being spoken, without an unprofessional look, the two were waging an invisible war. Pierce kept glancing from side to side as if he were suffering from incidental blows to the head.
Wearily, with limbs that felt as if they'd doubled in weight, Aubrey admired the seating arrangements that had been hastily set up in a vacant room on the second floor of Maidstone. The table behind which the heads of the concerned authorities sat was big enough for the three men, directly in front of and a good five yards away from the straight-backed chairs where Aubrey, George and Caroline sat.
Sir Darius was in an easy chair, situated against the wall, near the door, halfway between the questioners and the questionees. Whenever he contributed, the questioners had to look to their right, and the questionees to their left. It broke the confrontation beautifully.
'So you're saying that the gold is now in the hold of the Imperator?'Tallis said to Aubrey.
'Most likely. What's left in the vault of the bank is mostly fairy gold.' Aubrey held his hands together in front of him to disguise their trembling.
Craddock tapped the table with his forefinger. 'I have a squad of operatives testing it. I'm sure it's as you say.'
'So we have an incident on our hands,' Sir Darius said. 'It seems as if I'll need to summon Cabinet.'