‘I’m sorry, Philip, but you lost him.’
‘Ha!’ barked Cormier. ‘You mean you took him.’
Hibbert allowed the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. ‘No, I mean you lost him years ago.’
‘You sent agents—’
Hibbert lowered his head and shook it vigorously. ‘Philip—’
‘He wasn’t lost. Somebody found him, and you sent agents, and they took him.’
‘We’ve been through this, and as your friend—’
‘You sent them, they took him, and I want him back.’
Hibbert raised a hand and looked at his desk as he spoke to Cormier. ‘You lost him, and admittedly it was a tragedy, but it was a long time ago, Philip, and you have to remember that he contravened Article Five.’
Cormier exploded. ‘Article Five was written into law after he was created!’
‘Philip—’
Cormier was having none of it, he bellowed at Hibbert, while Hibbert gave as good as he got in his own calm but unyielding manner. Jack didn’t know exactly what was going on, but ‘Article Five’ was bandied about a lot, along with stuff about the ‘Governing principles of Basic Propulsion’ and talk about various rules and systems, and the importance of ‘the Natural Law of Mechanics’. Cormier slammed the desk with his hand so hard that Jack wondered which would break first. He exchanged a glance with Estelle and her cheeks ballooned as she blew air out in exasperation and folded her arms. Jack had also had enough.
‘Excuse me,’ he said. ‘Excuse me.’
Hibbert turned to him and did a series of tiny rapid blinks, as if reminding himself that there was someone else in the room. Cormier was still ranting, but he gradually became aware that Hibbert was no longer focused on him.
‘Excuse me, Mr Hibbert,’ said Jack, ‘but our friend Christopher lived with us in Mr Absalom’s junkyard. He was taken by men from your agency.’
Hibbert frowned. ‘Who are you?’
‘This is Jack,’ said Round Rob, before Jack could even open his mouth. ‘He’s my bestest friend after Christopher. That’s Christopher in the photo there with Mr Cormier. This is Estelle. She makes skin. She’s not registered, but she’s never been bothered by that because she knows how good she is. Her father taught her how to make skin, he used to hit her, but one day she hit him back and he never hit her again and she left home. Estelle tells me everything. Isn’t that right, Estelle?’ All eyes turned to Estelle, who had lowered her head and was looking at the ground in an effort to hide her burning cheeks. Round Rob turned back to Hibbert. ‘We’re looking for Christopher. Do you know where he is?’
Cormier looked away from Estelle, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Hibbert cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ he said.
Cormier glared at him. Hibbert held his hands up in a gesture of placation.
‘It’s true, Philip. As far as we’re concerned your Type A was lost several years ago.’
‘Christopher,’ said Jack.
‘I’m sorry?’ said Hibbert.
‘His name is Christopher,’ said Jack.
Hibbert looked from Cormier to Jack and back to Cormier again. ‘Really, Philip, if we’re to talk we really need to do so with proper—’
‘If you use the P word again I swear I’ll leap across that desk and rip your throat out with my bare hands,’ Cormier growled.
Hibbert touched his throat gingerly and swallowed.
‘The man who took our friend was called Mortimer Reeves, Mr Hibbert,’ said Jack.
Hibbert frowned. ‘I don’t know anyone by that name.’
‘Check your files,’ said Cormier.
‘I don’t need to, I know all my agents by name.’
‘Dunlop, then,’ said Jack.
‘Who?’ asked Hibbert.
‘Dunlop was the name of the other man who took Christopher,’ said Estelle.
Hibbert turned to Estelle. ‘We don’t have anyone here by those names. There is a Megan Dunlop who works in Stamping and Registration.’
‘You’re lying,’ said Cormier.
Hibbert snapped his head to the right, his cheeks became flushed, and he drew himself up in his seat. ‘Now look here,’ he said, jabbing the air with his index finger, ‘I won’t take that from anyone. We’ve known each other a long time, Philip, and you know me to be an honourable man.’
Cormier leant back in his chair and shrugged.
Hibbert sat back and straightened the hem of his jacket. He was jiggling about now in an angry fashion, and Jack could see that the comment from Cormier had really stung him.
‘Simply outrageous,’ Hibbert spluttered.
Cormier regarded him coolly. ‘Who signs off on the acquisition of Type As?’
‘That would be me,’ replied Hibbert, giving a condescending nod.
Cormier raised an eyebrow.
‘If you’re asking if I signed off on the acquisition of your model, then the answer would be no. I never signed off on a mission like that – now, or before he was lost.’
‘You could check your files,’ said Cormier.
‘I assure you I don’t need to. There has never been a mission which has required such an acquisition.’
Cormier sighed and slouched down in his chair.
‘I have to find him, Edgar.’
‘I understand,’ said Hibbert sympathetically. ‘Unfortunately for you, Philip, there is no way of tracing him.’
There was silence for a moment, during which Cormier looked up and gave a slow, deliberate smile. Hibbert saw the smile and started to edge back almost imperceptibly in his chair.
‘There is one way,’ Cormier said.
Hibbert’s eyes widened and he shook his head. ‘No, Philip.’
‘You could help me.’
‘No, Philip.’
‘You have one, I know you do. You could let me use it.’
Hibbert looked completely flustered now, and Jack could swear he saw tiny beads of sweat on his forehead.
‘Article Five states—’
‘Oh, Article Five can go hang,’ shouted Cormier.
‘Article Five was sanctioned by His majesty the King himself,’ Hibbert squealed. He was trying his best to project an air of authority, but Jack exchanged a glance with Estelle. They could both detect the note of panic in his voice.
‘It is forbidden—’
‘You haven’t admitted that you haven’t got one,’ grinned Cormier.
‘We . . . we haven’t. You could use your own.’
‘Which you know I destroyed,’ said Cormier.
Hibbert swallowed and slapped his palm on the desk. His voice became quite high-pitched. ‘We haven’t got one, and even if we had we wouldn’t allow you to use it. It would be illegal and just downright improper.’
‘Haven’t got what?’ asked Jack.
Hibbert opened his mouth, but it was Cormier who spoke first:
‘A Diviner. It’s a special device used for—’
Hibbert suddenly bounced up in his chair, wagging his finger. ‘The secrets of Refined Propulsion are not to be—’
‘Oh, do shut up, Edgar. You’re beginning to bore me now.’
‘What’s a Diviner?’ asked Rob.
Cormier leant back so Rob could hear him.
‘Philip! Don’t!’ Hibbert screeched. He was now half standing, with his bottom hovering over his chair. Cormier looked askance at him, as if considering something for a moment, then he sighed and leant across the desk towards Hibbert.
‘Sit down, Edgar,’ he said.
A pink-cheeked Hibbert regarded him for a moment with round frightened eyes, then slowly began to sit back on his chair. His shoulders sagged, and he stared at his desk.
‘What’s a Diviner?’ whispered Round Rob.
‘I’m not supposed to tell you,’ whispered Cormier.
‘Why not?’ whispered Estelle.
‘Because it’s terribly secret,’ whispered Cormier.
‘It’s a device whi
ch can help track down a Type A mechanical,’ said an exasperated Hibbert. ‘Mr Cormier created the first one –’ Hibbert paused – ‘and he also destroyed it.’
The chief commissioner gave Cormier a meaningful look. Jack tried to read it, but he couldn’t interpret what was passing between the two men.
‘Why destroy it?’ asked Estelle.
‘Because it’s dangerous,’ said Cormier, his eyes fixed on Hibbert’s.
‘How?’ asked Jack.
Both men just looked at each other.
‘Why didn’t you use it to find him the first time you lost him?’ asked Estelle.
‘I destroyed it before that,’ said Cormier.
Jack was perplexed. Nothing they were saying made any sense to him, and he could feel his frustration building at the lack of information being offered.
‘It’s only used for tracking, but it’s dangerous?’ he said. He shook his head at the apparent idiocy of it all.
‘I often suspected the Agency had created a Diviner of its own,’ said Cormier, looking back at Hibbert. ‘The first time he went missing, I came to them to ask for it. But your predecessor, Mr Locke, refused to give it to me and had me thrown out of the building.’
‘He couldn’t give what he didn’t have,’ said Hibbert quietly.
‘And there you go, still denying you’ve always had it, while I know better.’ Cormier gave a bitter smile.
Hibbert couldn’t look him in the eye.
‘Locke was a very stubborn and implacable man. He was always about rules and regulations,’ said Cormier.
‘As am I,’ said Hibbert, jutting his jaw out in a defiant manner.
Cormier looked at him for a moment and nodded. ‘Yes. Yes you are.’ He gave a little groan as he stood up. ‘Time to go.’
‘What?’ said Jack and Estelle simultaneously.
‘We’ve done all we can here,’ said Cormier.
They left the room, an oddly guilty-looking Hibbert watching them go.
Cormier marched down the hallway and pressed the call button for the lift. Jack didn’t even have to look at Estelle – he could feel her simmering fury. There was a moment in Hibbert’s office when Jack thought they might be getting closer to Christopher, but that moment was gone. Like Estelle, Jack was feeling more and more angry, but with the anger came a horrid slipping sensation, as if something was falling away from him. He tried to picture Christopher, but that only made the feeling worse.
The same boy greeted them when they stepped inside the lift. Cormier bent down on one knee. ‘How goes the arm?’
The boy swung his arm and grinned. ‘Very good, sir. Thank you very much, sir.’
Cormier smiled and seemed to be about to say something when two agents stepped into the lift. The engineer stood up, but as he did so he took the boy’s cap off his head and ruffled his hair. The boy leant forward slightly and pressed the button for the ground floor. The two agents stood with their hands clasped in front of them, staring grimly ahead. Cormier still had the hat in his left hand, while he idly tapped out a tattoo on the boy’s head with his right. The boy didn’t seem to mind, and the only sound in the lift was the tinny tapping sound as Cormier’s fingers danced across his metal skull. Jack was bemused by Cormier’s suddenly carefree attitude, and he exchanged a glance with a still furious-looking Estelle.
When they reached the ground floor, Cormier put the cap back on the boy’s head. ‘Thank you very much, sir,’ said the boy.
‘No, thank you,’ said Cormier, giving a tiny bow.
Jack could see one of the agents give a slight frown at this behaviour, before he and his partner briskly made their way out through the foyer.
Cormier walked towards the exit with a smirk on his face. Estelle was glowering. Jack couldn’t take the tension any more.
‘What do we do now?’ he demanded.
Cormier looked at him and picked up speed. ‘We go back to the truck.’ In a moment, he was skipping down the steps outside.
‘What about the Diviner?’ Jack shouted after him.
Cormier span around and put a finger to his lips. ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said.
‘I am worried,’ said Jack. ‘Christopher isn’t here, we don’t know who took him, and that Diviner thing might be the only way to find him.’
Cormier said nothing, but he had stopped near the bottom of the steps to squint up at the building.
‘Do you believe him? Do you think they don’t have it?’ asked Estelle.
‘Of course they have it,’ said Cormier.
‘Then we need to get it,’ said Jack.
‘Of course we do,’ smiled Cormier. ‘That’s why we’re coming back here tonight to steal it.’
Try as he might, Jack couldn’t see how they were going to get into the building. They’d spent the rest of the afternoon a short distance away, watching it from a nearby street corner.
People started to trickle out just before five. There was a general rush just after five, and by six the flow of people was back to a trickle. At about seven o’ clock, Cormier rubbed his hands together and said, ‘This is it. Nearly ready.’
Jack still couldn’t see how they were going to break in, but Cormier simply laughed and tapped the side of his nose. Gripper offered to go straight through the front door, but Cormier told him it wouldn’t be necessary. Round Rob came up with a plan which involved him scaling the building, jimmying open a window and, once inside, creeping around its various corridors ‘stealthy as you like’.
‘How are you going to climb that, Rob?’ Jack asked, gesturing at one of the pillars.
Rob told him not to worry.
‘Where’s the Diviner, Rob?’
Rob frowned and scratched his chin. ‘Let me think about that,’ he said.
Estelle, arms folded and head held high, looked insolently at Cormier. ‘So how are we getting in?’
‘Easy,’ said Cormier. ‘We’re going to use a variation on Gripper’s tactic and go right through the front door.’
They waited another hour until the street was dark and empty, and then Cormier ushered them out of hiding and started strolling nonchalantly towards the Agency building.
‘What’s he doing?’ hissed Estelle, rolling her eyes in exasperation.
Cormier skipped up the steps and rapped on the glass of the revolving door. Jack tensed, preparing to run. He could see Estelle crouching in readiness too. They hadn’t expected this, and he now reckoned that Cormier had simply lost his mind. Jack was about to tell Rob and Gripper to come away from the door before they were seen, when something small and dark shuffled across the foyer.
It was the bellboy, and he was holding a large set of keys. Without even looking at them he inserted one of the keys in the lock and turned it.
Cormier breezed in, while the others stood gawping at him from the other side of the door.
‘Well, come on then,’ he said, waving them in.
They pushed through the door, Gripper having to bend down and step in sideways. Jack was last to enter, looking over his shoulder towards the empty street as the door revolved. Once on the other side he looked at Cormier.
‘How did you . . . ?’
‘Simple,’ said Cormier. He took the bellboy’s cap off and started tapping his fingers on his head. ‘Morse code. All Pilkingtons have a built-in understanding of it.’ He grinned and jerked his thumb in the boy’s direction. ‘I just said thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome, sir,’ said the boy.
Cormier chuckled and placed the cap back on the boy’s head.
‘What’s your name?’
‘William, sir.’
‘Well then, William, can you show us where it is?’
‘That I can, sir.’
William led them towards a large oak door set within an arched alcove. He took his set of keys and deftly selected one which he used to unlock the door. He flicked on a light switch. Bulbs flickered to life, dimly lighting the way ahead. ‘Follow me,’ he said.
Ins
ide the door was a set of stone steps that led downwards into the bowels of the building. The steep steps were almost too small for Gripper’s feet – he supported himself by clamping his claws against the walls in order to wedge himself in place, and moved as carefully as possible. Jack didn’t like the idea of having two tons of metal behind him, but they’d already started their descent and it was too late to go back now.
Cormier whistled as he followed William, like a man out for a picnic on a sunny day, but Jack felt uncomfortable – the way down was too long, the passage too narrow, and they didn’t know where they were going or what to expect when they got there. The whistling was only making things worse. Estelle must have felt the same. Her eyes were burning holes in Cormier’s back as she descended.
Round Rob, however, was fascinated.
‘Can you teach me to do that?’ he whispered to Jack, while nodding at Cormier.
Jack squeezed his hand. ‘Yes, Rob. Once we’ve found Christopher and all of this is over.’
Rob grinned. Jack didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would need breath to be able to whistle.
They finally reached the end of the steps and found themselves in a long exhibition space with a high ceiling. The walls were covered with paintings, and the room was nearly full of statues and display cases. In a glass cabinet, Jack spotted what looked like innards of a large and very intricate clock, its brass wheels and cogs glowing even in the dim light. On a plinth opposite was a long-limbed skeletal structure made from steel.
‘It’s a museum,’ said Estelle, her voice filled with wonder.
Jack followed Cormier as he moved along the display cases lined up against the left-hand wall. The cases held a strange variety of objects – everything from leather-bound books, bits of parchment, cogs, gaskets, to bits of wiring and hands and limbs made from metal.
Cormier stopped in front of one display and rested his chin on his chest, lost in contemplation. The painting directly above the case depicted Joshua Runcible and the First. The picture was slightly different and a lot more vivid than the one they were used to from Absalom’s shed, but Runcible was wearing his customary scarlet jacket and cloak, ruffled cravat and breeches that stopped at the knees. He looked noble and aloof.
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