Strangeness and Charm cotf-3

by Mike Shevdon

  "We won't bottle it," said Sparky.

  Chipper's eyes shone in the darkness. He looked more alive than Alex had ever seen him.

  "I'm not worried about you." Eve glanced at Alex.

  "I'll be fine," said Alex. "In, out, we're done. I've done this before," she confirmed.

  "Not like this you haven't," said Eve. "If it comes to it, be prepared to use whatever means you have. We cannot afford to get caught, understand? We meet up outside the bar, The Hung, Drawn and Quartered on Great Tower Street."

  "Got it," said Sparky. Chipper nodded. Alex licked her lips, which were suddenly dry.

  "Alex, you understand your part?"

  "One feather, black, coming up," she said.

  "The ceremony of the keys begins at nine sharp. They'll escort in the tourists and walk them around. When they are furthest from the gate down at the White Tower, that's when we hit them. Don't screw up," said Eve. "We're not coming back for you if you get caught. You all have positions. Cloak yourselves, we're on."

  Chipper sprinted away into the dark, followed by a flash of a smile and Sparky was gone too. That left Eve with Alex.

  "Stick to the plan," said Eve. "It'll be fine."

  "Yeah," said Alex. She wasn't sprinting for anyone. She walked away along the wall, hugging the shadows and cloaking herself more deeply with every step.

  Alex had avoided the paths, figuring that if she was in charge, that's where she would put the pressure pads. Instead she took the stone steps up onto the wall and dropped quietly onto the roof of the aviary. She landed as quietly as she could, but still the birds set up a raucous cawing when she landed. She balanced at the peak of the roof, listening for sounds of human alarm. If there was any, it was drowned out by the birds.

  She edged along the peak of the roof and then slithered down to the eaves on her belly, amid the caws and calls from the occupants. No matter how quiet she tried to be, they got more and more agitated. This wasn't making her job any easier.

  "Shut up, bird brains," she muttered under her breath.

  Below her was a wooden wall with a window covered over with wire mesh. Even if she could get past the wire mesh, she had no guarantee the window would open. She pushed herself sideways along the roof, positioning herself above the door. As she reached it, a figure loomed out of the dark on the path.

  "Ere, what's up with you lot, eh?" said the figure. He was dressed in uniform, but as far as Alex could tell he was unarmed. He didn't look up, failing to notice the girl sprawled across the roof, but went to the door of the aviary, rattling keys until he found the right one.

  "All right, all right, keep your feathers on. Anyone would think there was a snake in there with you."

  He pushed through the doorway, clicking on a light so that it spilled out into the pathway.

  Alex waited, counting heartbeats, listening to the old man chatting away to himself and the birds. It was clear that something had agitated them, but so far he had no idea what. When she got to forty-six, three uniformed figures sprinted across the courtyard, heading for the White tower. There was no alarm sounding, but then who were they going to call? The police? They already had the military here, if they couldn't handle it, who could?

  The guy in the aviary hadn't seen them. It was now or never.

  She moved sideways and rolled over the edge, making as little noise as possible. The birds went wild, cawing and screeching, providing ample cover for her descent. She pushed herself to her feet and slid along the outside wall. He was talking to them like they were people.

  She leaned around the doorway. The old man was watching the birds flapping around inside a large cage, talking to them quietly. One of the birds fixed her, turning hits head sideways in curiosity, so that it could focus on her with the black bead of an eye.

  "Caaaaawww," it said.

  The man spun around, following the gaze of the bird. Alex had seconds to react. She stepped in close as he turned, placing a hand on his chest as his eyes widened in surprise at the sudden appearance of the curly-haired teenager in front of him.

  His eyes rolled upwards and he dropped like a tree, falling full length, sawdust billowing around him as he crashed to the floor.

  The birds started a cacophony of calls. "Aaark! Arrk!"

  "Shut up!" shouted Alex. Surprisingly, they did.

  Alex looked at them. They regarded her, turning their heads to train first one black eye on her, then the other.

  "You can speak?" asked Alex.

  In answer, one of the birds hopped down off one of the bare branches they had been provided with and stalked across the floor to where the keeper lay full-length, eyes rolled up, breathing shallow.

  "Aaark?" It said.

  "It's all right, calm down," said Alex. "He's not dead, just unconscious. He'll be fine in the morning."

  "Caaaaaw," said another bird from the safety from the branch.

  "You're in there, and I'm out here, right?"

  The birds fluttered back and forth in the cage, but they seemed to calm at her words. They watched her carefully, cocking their heads and listening to her.

  "You think I'm coming in there with you lot, you've got another thing coming," she said.

  They cawed in rasping agreement, as if they were laughing at her cowardice. The birds hopped sideways. To Alex's ears, they seemed to find it funny.

  Alex watched them. "But you understand me, yeah?"

  Quietly they cawed to one another as if they were arguing about the situation. The birds exchanged looks. "Caaaw," said one.

  "So here's the deal," said Alex. "You give me a feather, a long one mind, none of your pissy ones, and I leave. Your friend wakes up later and no one's the wiser. Deal?"

  There was a chorus of cawing from the birds.

  "Or…" said Alex, "I can boil the water in every one of you and make you explode. Then I can walk in and take the feather for myself, geddit?"

  The birds erupted in another chorus of argument. "Well?" said Alex.

  One of the birds strutted down the branch while another bent down, as if it was bowing to Alex. There was a flash of beak and the bird had a long black feather. It hopped down the branch and approached the mesh of the cage cautiously.

  "You needn't think I'm putting my hand in there," said Alex.

  The bird angled its head and then hopped up to the mesh and poked the feather through, dropping it on Alex's side. Then it flapped over the branch, turning to watch her. She collected the feather and placed it in the resealable plastic bag that Eve had given her for it.

  "A deal's a deal," she said. She knelt down beside the old man, placing her hand on his chest. The birds flapped about in agitation. "It's all right," she said. "I'm just rebalancing the flow. He'll have a headache tomorrow, but no more, I promise. OK?"

  The bird that had produced the feather bowed once, dipping its beak and raising its tail feathers high in a wide sable fan. Alex nodded to it, acknowledging the bow, and left.

  Outside, the courtyard was bathed in light. She slipped sideways but there was no longer any shade to hide in. She might as well have walked across the middle of the courtyard for all the good it did. Even so, she worked her way around the outside, heading for the gates which led across the expanse of moat to the outer walkway.

  When she reached the gateway, it was locked. Four grim looking soldiers stood to either side of the locked gate with automatic rifles held across their bodies, barrels down but ready to fire. Of Eve, Sparky and Chipper, there was no sign.

  "Fuck!" she swore under her breath. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

  FOURTEEN

  "I want to make it clear," the Scot seated at the end of the table said, "that this meeting never happened. You were never here. These words were never spoken. We'll deny it all."

  Garvin lifted his chin very slightly. "You're saying this for whose benefit?"

  Garvin looked at me and I raised my eyebrow very slightly. I wasn't even sure why I was here. I knew these meetings went on, but I'd only e
ver been to one, and that was in rather unusual circumstances.

  The Great Hall of Oakham Castle was special — its walls were home to hundreds of horse-shoes, gifts from visiting dignitaries over the centuries. Whether by design or accident, the proximity of the horse shoes had the effect of dampening the sense of truth and falsehood that all who were fey possessed. It meant that within these walls, the fey visitors did not have the advantage of knowing whether their human counterparts were telling the truth. It levelled the playing fields for negotiations between humanity and the Feyre, at least in part.

  The guy at the end of the table had been in charge of security during my last visit, but not part of the negotiations. Secretary Carler had conducted those and I was wondering whether this was the new guy's way of letting us know he'd been promoted. That also made me wonder what had happened to Secretary Carler.

  "Questions have been asked," said the Scot, "and denials have been issued."

  Garvin folded his hands on the table and looked from one to the other. "As I understand it," he said, "our meetings are with Secretary Carler or his replacement. I don't have a remit to negotiate with anyone but the Secretary himself." He looked pointedly at the security guard at the door, the goatee bearded tech across the table, and then at the Scot.

  "We're not here to negotiate," said the Scot.

  "Then what's this about?" asked Garvin.

  "Certain material has come into our possession which implicates certain other people in acts which may compromise the agreement between our respective principals. I have been tasked…" he paused for effect, "…with making certain that this does not become a security issue."

  "What are you referring to?" asked Garvin.

  "Show them," the Scot said to the tech, who sat with an expensive looking widescreen laptop computer open in front of him, positioned so we couldn't see the screen. The portable white screen which had been set up on a tripod stand at the end of the dais glowed blue and then white as it came to life.

  "This is all pre-event," said the tech, "and I'll fast forward through it. It's really just to show that everything was working fine up until the incident."

  The screen showed an array of tiled feeds in a composite grid view from cameras around a large building. I counted six rows of eight cameras. I was trying to think why the view was familiar, and then I caught sight of Tower Bridge in one of the views.

  "This the the Tower of London," I said.

  "Cut to the chase," said the Scot. "Show them why they're here."

  The tech sighed and operated a control on the laptop so that the tiles flickered forwards in time and then paused.

  "Nine twenty-seven, the gate guards are there to collect a party of visitors from the front gate. The visitors were checked and vetted before entry and there's no sign of collusion. They were as surprised as everyone else." The feed showed two soldiers in uniform marching up to the gate and allowing a small group of tourists inside.

  "Nine thirty-four they arrive at the main gate. They're challenged and allowed through. They meet with the Yeoman Warder who is escorted to the keys. Now watch here," He used a laser pointer to circle on one of the tiled images. It was stepping through a single frame at a time. For a moment in one frame a shadow passed across the courtyard, but in the next frame it had gone.

  "See it?" he asked.

  "See what?" said Garvin. "Is this a ghost sighting? Is that what you brought us to see?"

  The tech backed up a frame. There was a streak of darkness across the grass. "These cameras are taking twenty-four frames a second. Whatever it is, it appears to be moving very quickly."

  "Or it's simply a trick of the light?" said Garvin. "It could be a moth close to the lens so that its relative movement appears fast?"

  "No, it's not close to the lens and there's no point of origin for a shadow," said the tech.

  "It's a glitch in the system," said Garvin, "You brought us here to show us this?"

  "It gets more interesting," said the Scot. "Roll it forward."

  "We're moving frame by frame now, so each one of these is a twenty-fourth of a second." The views of the walls and courtyards continued, as the frame count and time-stamp in the corner advanced. Then in ones and twos the images disappeared from the screen.

  "What you're seeing here is a systemic attack. The cameras are being taken out one by one, very rapidly."

  Progressively the pictures were blanking out. "Power failure?" I asked, earning a look from Garvin, but intrigued by this development.

  "There was a power failure, four seconds after this, but these cameras have separate power supplies and battery backup. Also, if this were a power failure then they would all fail at once. These are going out one at a time." He continued until the screen was blank.

  "Any comment?" said the Scot.

  Garvin shrugged. The Scot looked at me.

  "Some sort of software failure?" I suggested.

  "Evidence says not," said the tech. "The systems returned to full working condition, but not until later. Fortunately we have a backup." The screen glowed white again and then showed a wide-screen monochrome view of the castle courtyard from the river side over the wall.

  "This view is from the top of Tower Bridge, the only remote camera with this angle — consequently the resolution isn't brilliant, but it's apparently far enough away to be unaffected by whatever is causing the disruption."

  He zoomed in on the courtyard and then started advancing frame by frame. "Three, two, one… now." The screen showed two indistinct blurry images entering the courtyard. They appeared to be in no rush, though the image was unstable, as if it was looking through intense heat-haze. He stepped through the images until they crossed out of sight.

  "The internal cameras are time-matched so this is the same scene we saw before, but as you see, internally they're only recording a tiny fragment of the data coming from the high remote camera, which implies that some sort of editing has taken place, yet the integrity of the frames is valid — they have not been tampered with." He looked up, expecting some sort of response. Garvin and I stared back.

  "The alarms start shortly after. There are generalised power failures, a number of incendiary devices were used though we have yet to identify the accelerant. It appears to be extremely volatile leaving little trace. The White Tower came under sustained assault, the building was accessed and a number of the secondary alarm systems were triggered, though as in the case of the outside cameras, the inside feeds were ineffective."

  "The White Tower is where the Crown Jewels are kept," said the Scot.

  "How much did they get away with?" asked Garvin.

  "Nothing, at least not from there," the Scot said. "The jewels are separately secured overnight, and there's no ready access. It's not like the Queen phones up overnight and sends for the crown to be sent round to Buckingham Palace on a whim."

  "So they left empty-handed?" I asked.

  "Not quite," said the Scot. "You're going to love this bit."

  The tech went back to the camera, zooming out to full field view. He let it run fast-forward for a few minutes and then slowed it to normal speed.

  "There was a disturbance in the outer courtyard during the alarms — we assumed that this was a backup team or an exit strategy, but that isn't played out by what followed. The tourist party shadowing the ceremony of the keys was immediately detained, pending investigation. In the event it appears they were innocent bystanders. The gates to the courtyard were secured, though, and armed guards posted to the exits in accordance with security procedure. They were attacked by one or more assailants and physically assaulted. The gate was opened and there is a brief glimpse here…"

  He panned the view to the corner of the screen where three shadows crossed open grounds and disappeared under some trees. "Injuries to the guards were not severe, though there is a disciplinary pending on how four armed soldiers can't defend one gate from what appear to be a group of unarmed teenagers."

  He panned back again into full-fie
ld view.

  "More interesting is just under six minutes later." He fastforwarded and then slowed. "Watch here."

  A dark blur slipped along the top of the wall facing the river. It seemed to cling to the edges and veer around like a candlelight shadow in a breeze, flickering and dodging. It hesitated, then continued, tracking along the wall, then hesitating.

  "She's looking for a way out," said the tech.

  "She?" said Garvin.

  The shadow slipped along the wall to a gate structure, flanked by square towers.

  "Traitor's Gate," said the Scot. "Quite appropriate in the circumstances."

  The tech continued. He seemed "The water gate itself is wood reinforced with iron. It's old and not really intended as an effective barrier. On the other side of it, though, the entrance to the Thames has been bricked up and there's a significant barrier. The Thames is high, as you can see, but the water doesn't enter the tower itself. The water behind the wall is quite shallow — a few inches only. The tide turned twenty-three minutes before this and is on the ebb. The current is downstream towards the estuary."

  He panned across the wall where the gate had been sealed. "According to witnesses there was no splash or ripple, and they initially discounted the water as an exit route. It's not as easy a way out as it appears and has trapped the unwary before. Instead they focused their attentions on the parapet and any attempt to abseil or scale down the wall. Only when the water started to move did they realise where's she'd gone."

  "That's the second time you've used a female pronoun," said Garvin.

  "The wave oscillated three times, initially moderately but with increasing force. On the third oscillation the gate is forced open. That's when the outer wall starts to collapse. Within moments there's water flooding through. A section of the wall collapses and the Thames is through."