The Seventh Star (The King's Watch Book 7)

by Mark Hayden

  Saffron really had done a good job. Lloyd had danced with her (in a communal way) at the party two weeks ago and he still didn’t recognise her. ‘Go and ask her for directions to the Northbound footbridge,’ I suggested. ‘But ask her in Old High North Germanic and point inside.’

  ‘Go on, kid,’ said Lloyd. ‘Show her your charms.’

  Albie got out of his seat and strolled over to Saffron. He helpfully moved a chair for her and spoke something. Lloyd was looking at Saffron, and Saff glanced in our direction. I gave her a subtle nod to show that it was all good. Albie pointed again, and I felt a tiny wash of Lux. Saffron smiled at him and picked up her bucket. She positively sashayed across the terrace to the door and disappeared inside with Albie.

  ‘Right, quick,’ said Lloyd. ‘I’ll put a Glamour on as soon as you open your bag.’

  I took out the Anvil, drew it from the sheath and lifted it over my head, taking care not to look at it. I closed my eyes and felt the swirling pattern of Lux inside the blade. I’ve some idea what a human Imprint looks like, and the sword’s essence is a bit like that, and two of the strands in the pattern glowed a pale blue. They were mine. In fact, they were part of me, created by energy being drawn from my arm. A lot of energy.

  I reversed the grip and brought the tip down onto the stone flags, pushing at the pattern. Something inside the ground, a phantom wave of red-hot magick, like flowing lava, snatched at the pattern and whisked it all away, apart from the pale blue strands. I snatched my focus away from the sword and opened my eyes.

  ‘Close,’ said Lloyd. ‘You nearly got a transfer burn there. I didn’t expect our Mother to come in person. Well done, Conrad.’

  I sheathed the sword before it could wake up again, and passed it to Lloyd. I was just about to light a cigarette when Albie emerged with a face like thunder. ‘You set me up!’ he said accusingly. To me. ‘She’s a Mage! What’s going on?’

  ‘Of course she’s a Mage,’ said Lloyd. ‘Conrad wouldn’t come here without backup. As soon as she washed that table for the second time, I clocked her. Do I know her?’

  ‘It’s Saffron.’

  ‘No! Bloody hell, mate, tell her well done. I had no clue.’ He frowned at his fellow Gnome. ‘What tipped you off, Albie?’

  ‘I went to touch her, and she gave me a burn on me arm! Look!’

  He held up a meaty forearm with four red marks showing. Ouch. ‘Let that be a lesson,’ I said. ‘In more ways than one.’

  Lloyd laughed. ‘Nice one. Here you go, Albie. Lay it in on the cairn of the First House and I’ll see you at the match.’ He passed over the sword and Albie stormed off in a real teenage strop.

  As soon as he’d gone, Saffron came back out with two more coffees for Lloyd and me. ‘I didn’t hurt him, did I?’

  ‘He’ll heal,’ said Lloyd. ‘Well done, Saff, and I’m sorry about Albie.’

  Saffron looked like she was going to say more, then shook her expensive wig and smiled. ‘Anything else, Conrad? If not, I’ll get changed and see you before you go. Unless you’re off somewhere.’

  ‘No. And thanks.’

  We were alone, and Lloyd shook his head. ‘There’s more, Conrad. Stuff I can only tell you as a blood-brother, not as a Watch Captain. Can you do that?’

  ‘And there’s stuff I can’t tell you as a clan second. Can you do that?’

  ‘Unless it directly threatens our First Mine.’

  ‘And unless it directly threatens the King’s Peace.’

  He extended his hand and we shook on it. ‘You first,’ I said.

  He drank some coffee. ‘I went to see Niði last week. He’s doing well, by the way. There are four of them now, all plug-ugly and full of attitude. He really is a grumpy sod.’

  Dwarves operate on a shared consciousness, of sorts, and they’re not born: they emerge from the rock in their Hall. I’ve seen one growing, and it’s the stuff of nightmares. I shuddered. ‘I’m pleased he’s doing well. The world of magick needs a counter-balance to Hledjolf.’

  ‘That’s the problem. Niði is convinced that Hledjolf is going to split himself and dig a new Hall. Up north. Sheffield. I’m just giving you a heads-up.’

  ‘Thanks. You know that Sheffield is in the Danelaw? That’s Jordan Fleming’s Watch, and Hannah hasn’t made me anyone’s supervisor yet.’

  ‘I know. It’s still a long way from London. You might want to have a look around. Just in case. If I hear anything definite, I’ll let you know. On the record.’

  ‘Thanks. And I’ve got a real problem, Lloyd. I’ve got a dead Gnome killed by Mannwolves and a Fae Count assassinated by Gnomes, and for the life of me I can’t see how they’re connected.’

  He looked at me as if I were mad. ‘A Fae Count? Why is that your concern, and how did a load of overgrown dogs take down one of Mothers’ children?’

  ‘They had help. As for the Count, I’ve got a witness. I’ll take you through it.’

  I’d got as far as summarising Kirk Liddington’s account of the murder when Lloyd stopped me.

  ‘Is he sure there was eight of them?’

  ‘Positive. 100%. That convinced me, given your race’s special relationship with the number eight.’

  He was very alarmed. ‘You don’t know, do you? On a special project there are seven of us. The eighth one is the spirit of the First House. Symbolic, like. You only get eight Gnomes acting together when it’s an Octet.’

  I scratched my head. ‘Octet? Isn’t that like saying there’s eight of them? My mother would call it a tautology.’

  ‘She might, but she’d be wrong. It’s a translation of frī-ahte, which is the Old German for “Free Eight”. It means there’s eight Gnomes looking to dig themselves a new First Mine and form a new clan. It’s what my brother was going to do. Until I chopped his head off. I never did find out which other clans were involved.’

  I was reeling from that, and it took me a few seconds to realise what he’d said. ‘What other clans?’

  ‘You can’t dig a new First Mine unless you come from at least three clans. I reckon that they’ve showed up on your patch. You know why we called them “Free”? It’s because they ain’t tied to a clan. No accountability, until they settle down. You could have your hands full with that lot.’

  ‘Thanks. You’re making me full of confidence, Lloyd. If you could start asking around, I’d be grateful. Any clues would be welcome.’ Something struck me. ‘What about clans from overseas?’

  ‘Yeah. The Great Clan knows no borders. What makes you think that?’

  ‘My witness heard two of the wives talking in modern German.’

  He nodded. ‘Good luck, Conrad. Sounds like you’re gonna be busy.’

  ‘You know me, Lloyd, never one for the quiet life. One last thing, Lloyd, I hope you have a word with young Albrecht. He was out of order.’

  ‘I know. I won’t let it go.’

  ‘Thanks. I hope you enjoy the game this afternoon.’

  ‘So do I. And there’s one last thing from me, Conrad. I owe you a sword. I’ll make it a good ’un. Take care.’

  He jumped over the low fence and headed for the car park. After all that coffee, I needed to go to the Gents. Saffron was waiting by the Volvo and she already had Scout’s lead on him. I didn’t want him going mental when he smelled Gnome, so I’d left him in the car.

  Sammi’s wig, assets and scuffed clothes had gone and Saffron’s white-blonde mane was back, as was the short dress and natural poise of the Mage aristocracy. ‘Bloody Gnomes. He’s lucky he didn’t get a knee in the groin.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘Released some of those enhanced pheromones, touched my arm and thought he was doing me a favour.’

  ‘He’s in trouble with Lloyd. Thanks for that, Saffron.’

  ‘No problem. It was good fun and good practice.’ She grimaced. ‘Mostly. Being touched by a Gnome-child is not fun. Still good practice, though.’

  ‘How’s life at Elvenham?’

  ‘Weird without you a
nd Mina. I keep thinking I can smell cigarette smoke by the outhouse. I wouldn’t leave it too long if I were you, or Myfanwy will get restless. She’s already taken on two more pensioners’ gardens to keep her busy.’ She passed over Scout’s lead. ‘How’s Karina shaping up?’

  ‘As you’ll no doubt remember, it’s a steep learning curve.’

  ‘Not half. Take care, Conrad.’

  ‘And you, Saff.’

  We leaned in for a hug, and she gave Scout a treat before heading for her car. If you’re wondering how she got him out of the Volvo, as she said, she’s an Artificer.

  ‘Come on, boy, let’s find something to sniff.’

  ‘Arff.’

  There is an old police control room at the Bolton Wanderers stadium, a relic from the days when not only were there a lot more police officers, there were a lot more Bolton fans, too. Tom was going through some paperwork in front of the many CCTV screen when the door opened and Elaine breezed in.

  ‘Has Rob gone?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. Off to Scotland training camp for a week. Put me down for as much overtime as you want now.’

  ‘You’ll need it to pay for all the takeaways and meals in the Jade Palace. My offer of cooking lessons is still open.’

  She slid into the chair next to him. ‘I wouldn’t deprive Lucy of your company. So, what’s this all about?’

  ‘At ten o’clock this morning, a woman walked into Sandbach services and presented a Midland Counties Police warrant card. She said she was doing undercover practice, and could she work at the coffee bar for nothing? The manager said yes, but something about her made him ring and check with Birmingham.’

  ‘Oh yes? What was suspicious?’

  ‘Her age. She claimed she was a DS and the manager thought she was ridiculously young for that. Midland Counties control room checked her out, and yes, it was a fake, but she used her real name, one Saffron Hawkins. That name raised a big red flag. She’s MI7, and not only that, she’s on a list that interested me. Do you remember me telling you about my old partner, Kris Hayes?’

  ‘I do. It took you a while before you stopped comparing me to her unfavourably.’

  ‘Ouch. Sorry. It was Kris who I got to check out Conrad Clarke’s place in Clerkswell. Lieutenant Hawkins’ little bit of deception was passed to Kris Hayes, because she was on duty, and she called up CCTV from the service station. Watch this.’

  Tom activated one of the monitors and played a view of the car park. ‘Does that Volvo at the edge look familiar?’ he asked, indulging himself with a smug tone.

  ‘Bugger me. That’s Clarke’s car.’

  ‘It is. Here she comes.’

  A young woman with huge white hair and wearing a floral dress, black tights and a denim jacket bounced across the car park. She fiddled with the Volvo and let out the familiar form of Clarke’s dog, who seemed to know her. She put him on the lead and swept back her hair as the tall form of Clarke limped over. They spoke for a minute, embraced, and she left.

  ‘If that was all there was,’ said Tom, ‘I wouldn’t have dragged you in. It took me a while to find, but this bit is much more interesting.’

  Another external camera covered part of the motorway and the back of the service building, where several tables were laid out for smokers. ‘This is where I looked first,’ said Tom. ‘Those two guys have been there for twenty minutes, and neither of them smokes.’

  ‘Bit cold for sitting around outside.’

  ‘It is.’ He fell silent, and a café employee came out with a bucket. Tom paused the image. ‘Anything familiar?’

  Elaine peered at the screen. ‘Was one of those guys a suspect in that Liverpool case?’

  ‘No. Have another look at the girl.’

  ‘That’s not Hawkins.’

  ‘Oh yes, it is. Here comes Conrad.’

  Clarke came out, put his coffee down and the older man got up to give him a hug, and Tom paused the image, the disparity in the men’s height clearly visible.

  ‘Calabrese,’ said Elaine. ‘Is it a genetic thing? Are they all short?’

  ‘Who knows.’

  They carried on watching as the younger man convinced Hawkins to go inside and then Clarke took a fishing rod out of his bag, practised a fly cast and handed it over. It was then removed by the younger man, who pointed to his arm first, in pain.

  ‘I’m guessing that wasn’t a fishing rod,’ said Elaine.

  ‘I doubt it. Clarke once told me he was into hunting and shooting, but not fishing.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Elaine. ‘He has to rendezvous with his contacts in public, and he gets an associate who’s not Karina to watch his back. Proves he’s on the case. Not that I doubted it.’

  ‘It does more than that,’ said Tom.

  He had been seething all afternoon, and he was forcing himself not to take it out on Elaine. She didn’t know Clarke like he did. Or Mina Desai. Clarke was so bloody plausible and Mina was so devious. That was the problem. He took a deep breath to calm himself. ‘They’re a rogue operation, Elaine, and I won’t have it. I will not have men and women loosely attached to the Army walking around pretending to be police officers. I have no problem with the regular security services, but this is different.’

  Elaine looked very uncomfortable, and Tom was aware that the bee in his bonnet was buzzing very loudly.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go down that road, sir?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Elaine. I’m not going to sound off to the press or kick up a stink, I’m going to play them at their own game. I missed you yesterday afternoon, so how did you get on with Karina Kent?’

  ‘I went into Auntie Elaine mode. While Conrad was lurking outside the superstore, I took her to the clothing section and held on to her stuff. Those robes are actually made of very fine material, much more comfortable than they look. Anyway, while she was in the changing room, I put the App on her phone.’

  ‘How did you unlock it?’

  ‘Tracey Kenyon came up trumps. While Karina was wearing gloves at the crime scene yesterday, she couldn’t use fingerprint ID, so she typed in the passcode. Tracey collects useful bits of information like that. She knows both of ours, too. I’ve changed mine already.’

  ‘And Karina won’t know?’

  ‘No. Payback time: it’s the MI5 special, the one that replaces the standard mapping App seamlessly. All we have to do is activate it.’

  ‘Then set it up for tomorrow.’

  ‘Will do. How are the regular MIT team getting on?’

  ‘Completely stumped. Absolutely no idea of the victim’s identity, no witnesses, no traffic cameras. Nothing. The full post-mortem is tomorrow, so perhaps there will be trace evidence, like doggy DNA.’

  ‘Or wolf. Those wounds are huge. Why the wait for the PM?’

  ‘My last action as SIO was to order the top man, Michael Jepson. He was away for the weekend. Talking of which, let’s go and enjoy what’s left of ours. See you tomorrow.’

  At four o’clock on Monday morning, a shiny black van pulled up to the hidden entrance of a hospital mortuary in Liverpool. The van was unmarked, except for a discrete sign on the back that said Private Ambulance.

  Three figures got out of the front, two stocky men and one woman. The woman pressed the buzzer while the men unloaded a trolley from the back of the van. On top of the trolley was the unmistakable shape of a body bag.

  ‘Fishers of Westmorland,’ said the woman to the intercom. ‘We’ve got an RTA victim from the M6 crash.’

  The roller shutters next to the personnel door jerked into action with a clang and rattle. The woman went back to the cab of the van and took out a cardboard tray with four takeout coffees and a bag of pastries. When the shutters were fully up, the men pushed the trolley inside, and she followed them.

  The two men left about fifteen minutes later, the woman ten minutes after that. When the men pushed the trolley out, it looked empty. A careful observer might have noticed that they took a lot of care and had to work very hard for an
empty trolley, but there were no careful observers at that time of the morning.

  Dr Jepson didn’t order the unnamed victim to be brought up to the autopsy suite until ten o’clock, and that was when they discovered what had really happened. By then, Conrad Clarke had already gone into full emergency mode.

  19 — Curried Worm Time

  I stared at my phone as it sat, metaphorically steaming, on the breakfast table. ‘How the hell did they find out?’

  ‘Find out what?’ said Evie while she buttered some toast. ‘Whoever that was sounded very angry. I could hear them from over here.’

  Mina raised an eyebrow in polite enquiry, and Karina looked worried. Every time there’s bad news, she thinks it’s her fault. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t.

  ‘That was Lachlan Mace of Clan Blackrod,’ I said. ‘The Gnomes of Lancashire know about their lost brother, and about the attack by the Dual Natured.’

  ‘Alleged attack,’ said Mina. Since the end of the cricket season, she’s been growing her nails and she’s still getting used to eating with her fingers. She held her slice of toast like it was a Leonardo sketch and peered at the butter level before adding Marmite.

  ‘We’ve been summoned to see the clan chief at the First Mine in a couple of hours. He wants to know why the King’s Watch didn’t inform him.’

  ‘Can you lie your way out of it?’ said Mina.

  ‘I’m going to have to try, but I doubt it’ll buy me much time. More than anything, we need to track down Princess Birkdale’s pack of wolves, and when I say we, I don’t mean me or Karina. That version of we needs to report to the First Mine.’

  ‘Can’t I go hunting the wolves?’ said Karina. ‘That’s my strong point, after all. Where are they?’

  Really? She was asking that?

  ‘I told you, Karina, we need to find their base first.’

  ‘Can’t we get someone to do that?’

  ‘I could go to London tomorrow,’ said Mina. ‘After all, I am an expert on tracking down assets.’

  ‘Do you want a hand?’ said Evie. ‘For the day rate, of course.’