Phoebe Harkness Omnibus

by James Fahy

  “It is clear to me, as a citizen of New Oxford, that Cabal, and our police authorities who work with them, will extend every resource available to bring to justice the perpetrators of these heinous crimes, and we must all give them our complete and full cooperation and support in doing so. By killing folk here in Portmeadow, in my opinion, a clear message has been sent. Eat the rich. Prey on those seen as enemies. Spread darkness into our peaceful lives. The power plant I mean to build will leave no shadows for these cowards and monsters to hide in, no matter how they oppose it. Those who would have us cower in the darkness will not prevail. They will be dragged into the light, and judged.”

  Merriweather appeared back on screen. “We have had no official comment from the Tribals as of yet, and all three gates into the encampment remain sealed and silent. Earlier this evening, a riot broke out outside the gates of the Botanical Gardens, and while none were hurt, the Tribals themselves remained within. As tensions continue to mount all over the city, Cabal call for people to remain calm and not to attempt to take the law into their own hands. Stay tuned for further developments on this breaking story.” Merriweather shuffled the papers in front of her. “Join me here in an hour, when I’ll be having an exclusive interview with Cabal Spokesperson, Veronica Cloves, who is urging us all to let the authorities do their jobs.”

  I flicked the DataStream off with a wave.

  “Fuck,” I said quietly. “It’s a witch hunt out there. Who the actual hell leaked the deaths to the press? Someone who could get around Cloves for sure.”

  Lucy looked at me agog. “What are you saying?” she asked. I saw her expression melt from incredulity into dawning understanding. “You…knew didn’t you? Those missing people, you knew they were dead already. I thought you were being a diplomat, visiting the Tribals and the vamps, but you’re wrapped up in these murders, aren’t you?”

  I nodded, giving her an apologetic look. This is what happens when Cabal start commandeering your job role, you get sucked into lies and misdirection without realising how much it’s happening.

  “It’s what we’ve been working on,” I said. “Look, it looks bad, but this kind of panic out there in the city is exactly what we’ve been trying to avoid. It’s all tied with our diseased corpse somehow.”

  “You could have told me,” Lucy looked betrayed.

  “No,” I said firmly, leaning over and grabbing her hands in mine. “I couldn’t. Lucy, I got mixed up in this, and people are trying to kill me to shut me up. They very nearly have done. Twice, for Christ sake. There’s more to it that you know. Those suicides over at the Jenner Institute the other day? That’s just what got spun at the news. They were murders too. Somebody killed a study group, stole some of them. Whoever is behind all these death is dangerous and I didn’t want you, or Griff, anywhere near it. For your own safety. It’s not your job.”

  “It’s not yours either,” she pointed out. “You find cures, Doc, you don’t solve crimes. When did you become a kick-ass superhero? ”

  I stared at the blank screens. Amen to that, I thought. I’d like nothing more than to be in the lab, working on the corpse. Morbid as it sounds, this was my comfort zone.

  Outside in the dark street, sirens went past, wailing urgently in the night. “So this is why I haven’t heard from Cloves,” I said. My boss hadn’t bothered me since I’d left Blue Lab with Sofia heading to Yellowmoon the night before. She’d left me alone all day. Usually I would have expected at least ten voicemails. She was like a nagging mother. A really angry, terrifying one. “She has her hands full. I suppose that’s something of a silver lining,” I muttered. “I need to get to the museum. To Professor Knight’s old office. We have to stop this, Lucy, before it escalates further and there’s a whole lot more blood running in the streets. Kane told me he keeps his people on a tight leash, but he can’t control them forever.”

  “But what if he’s the killer?” Lucy said. “What if the MM are actually right? If Kane really is trying to scare people into backing off? It seems to be working. So far, I don’t see a downside for him. They haven’t even made a statement to the press, to deny it.”

  “Kane wouldn’t answer to the press, or to accusations,” I said. “He’d think it beneath him to defend or explain himself to humans. He’s proud, and that can be a very dangerous thing. But he doesn’t want war, I’m sure of it.” I’d only met the man once, and wondered how much I believed what I was saying. “He has other, more pressing concerns right now. His daughter is missing.”

  “I didn’t even know he had a daughter?” Lucy looked confused.

  “No one does,” I said. “She’s ex-tribe. A wilful exile. Turned her back on the pack or however you want to phrase it, to try and lead a normal life. It didn’t go so well.” I considered a moment. “Under the radar here, Lucy, she was one of the students at the Jenner.”

  Lucy looked as though she wanted to ask more, but at that moment Allesandro emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and trailing clouds of steam. She completely lost her train of thought.

  “Are we going to the museum in towels?” he asked me politely when the silence had stretched into several embarrassing seconds. I pointed to the bedroom and he disappeared inside.

  Lucy sat frozen like a rabbit in headlights, staring at the door.

  “Lucy, focus,” I said. I snapped my fingers in front of her face.

  “Sorry,” she blushed. “So…you’re saying it’s not just humans who’ve been killed, and kidnapped, but that Tribals are missing too?”

  “And vampires,” I nodded. “But my point is, someone is cleaning up after themselves, Lucy, I don’t know who, but I have no intention of being swept permanently under a rug. It’s time for serious action.”

  The bedroom door opened and Allesandro re-emerged, wearing black jeans. He was also wearing a figure-hugging sleeveless beach vest in canary yellow. It was emblazoned across the front with large pink cheerful lettering reading, ‘Sun’s out – Guns out!’.

  He glared at us both with murderous intent.

  I stared back with the straightest face I could manage.

  Lucy bit her lip. “Sorry, I did say the ex was kind of a douche.”

  “I demand…” the vampire said slowly, mustering every vestige of dignity, “…a jacket.”

  26.

  The Ashmolean Museum was dark. A hushed and abandoned edifice of neo-classical grandeur. Not a single car moved on the street. No pedestrians, not at this hour. I checked my watch as we sat in the back of Lucy’s car, parked discreetly across from the wide steps leading up to the main entrance. It was coming up on 5 AM. If Allesandro was coming in with us, we didn’t have much time to spare before sun-up.

  Lucy drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel, the engine idling quietly. “So…you guys are planning to just…break into the museum, then?” she asked dubiously. “Or is he going to charm his way in for us?”

  “Not us,” I said firmly. “You’re staying here.” She rolled her eyes petulantly. “And no, we’ve already done the hypnotist act once and it didn’t end very well. I don’t want some innocent security guard getting hurt because of us. But we’re not breaking in. The security is bound to be solid. I don’t want to bring a shower of Cabal drones down on our heads.”

  Lucy turned to look at me over the back seat, where I sat in the tiny cramped space with Allesandro. “Then how? And why can’t I come? I can look after myself. I don’t have to just be the wheel-gal.”

  I fished in my jeans, well, Lucy’s old jeans to be precise, and pulled out a slip of paper I had salvaged from the ruins of my parka. “I need you to make some calls for me while we’re in there,” I said. “Try and get hold of Cloves. No doubt she’s bouncing from network to network trying to keep the city calm, but you might catch her between interviews and vitriol. Tell her we have a lead if you can, and to call me as soon as she’s free. And then I want you to call this number.” I handed her the crumpled paper. “It’s Kane’s, he gave it me at the Jenner.”
/>   “Kane gave you his number?” Allesandro asked, a little petulantly.

  Lucy took it dubiously from me. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell him…” I wondered how to phrase it. “Tell him we found his missing Tribals, that they’re dead, someone had done…something to them.” I hesitated. “And also, tell him that we’re way past blankets.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What does that mean?”

  I shrugged. “I’m hoping he’ll know.”

  Allesandro peered out at the empty, deserted street at the vast neo-classical building. “You still haven’t enlightened us as to how you plan to get inside this very attractive building, Doctor,” he said.

  “I made a call before we left Lucy’s,” I said. “Bit of a long shot, I had to leave a message, but I just hope to hell they come through for me.”

  My phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down but didn’t recognise the number. I ignored my companions’ questioning looks, motioned for them both to be quiet, and answered. “Harkness speaking.”

  I thought maybe my museum entry plan was calling me back, but I was wrong.

  “Phoebe,” said a female voice I didn’t immediately place. “You’re a devil to get hold of tonight. I managed to squirrel your number out of our databases. It’s Director Coldwater here.”

  My blood ran cold. My boss’ boss was calling me directly? There was no way I could envision this being a good thing. She sounded pleasant enough though, breezy almost, although she’d had the same manner when we’d found the bloodbath at the Jenner Institute when she chirpily cowed Cloves into submission. I tried to stay positive. Perhaps this wasn’t a call about a headless corpse and a dead naked man in a library basement.

  “Oh, um, yes. I’ve been…kind of busy tonight,” I began.

  “Well,” she replied, a little breathlessly. “Haven’t we all? The cat is rather out of the bag, as you must have heard. Bloody news channels. The whole thing’s gone public and we’ve all had our hands full. Servant Cloves is otherwise engaged fluffing the feathers at the newsroom, so just between us, Doctor, I know it’s not the usual chain of command but I’m forced to come directly to you.”

  “To me?” I was at a loss. “To me for what, Director?”

  “Well yes, I mean, you are, after all, our newly appointed GO liaison. The builder of bridges between our species and all that. Look, I know it’s rather early days in your new role and all, and I’m sure you must still be a little frazzled by that horrible business with the carbomb the other day. Terrible start to things, although you rallied so magnificently.” She took a deep breath. “But I do rather think that now is a time when we could use you, maybe try to stop World War IV erupting in our fair streets, don’t you agree? Rather the kind of crisis we could use a neutral party between.”

  I swallowed hard. I wondered if anyone had ever refused Director Coldwater any of her rambling, breathless requests before.

  “I’m sort of in the middle of something right this second,” I said.

  She sighed down the phone. “Oh, balls.” She sounded a little put out. “I was hoping you might be available in the morning for a meeting with the Tribal leader again, if I can set one up, that is? If you feel up to it? I know, I know, it might be utterly futile at this stage, but Cabal has to be seen to be extending the hand of conciliation, even if it may be, as I fear at this stage, a lost cause. We must be seen to be making the effort you see.”

  “In the morning?” I sighed with relief. “Yes, of course, no, that would be fine, I thought you meant right now.”

  She laughed down the phone, a titter of polite disbelief. “Now? Heavens no, it’s the middle of the night, dear. I mean for goodness sake, there might be riots in the Slade and lynch mobs roaming the streets but really…let’s maintain some semblance of civilisation.”

  Allesandro and Lucy were both peering at me with interest. I ignored them, scanning the dark and deserted street outside while I held the phone pressed to my ear.

  “I know I’ve called you in the middle of the night, and I am mortified if I woke you – truly, it’s a horrible hour – but I wanted to give you fair notice and all. Are you at home now?”

  “No, I’m…out at the moment. Following a lead in fact, on the Portmeadow murders.”

  “Really?” She sounded both surprised and relieved. “Something useful I hope, for all our sakes. And where has this lead you to, exactly?” she asked.

  “The Ashmolean,” I explained. “I can’t really go into too much detail right now, Director. Not until I know more, but I think I might find some answers here. There’s more to this business than wild Tribals.”

  “Yes?” She didn’t sound particularly interested in the details. “Well, jolly good then. I must say I admire your dedication. Personally, I can’t function without at least eight hours and a decent mango night-mask, but keep that between us chickens. You’re an example to us all. No, the morning is fine.”

  “Should I come to the Liver?”

  “No, no, I won’t be here. So much to do. I’m afraid when you reach the dizzy heights of political bureaucracy, dear, your time is not your own anymore. I’ll have Cloves send a car for you.”

  I didn’t dare tell Coldwater anything about tonight’s events before running it through Cloves first. I think if I did, if I revealed anything I’d learned about the connections between our victims, Tribals or the Voynich manuscript, Cloves would quite possibly flay me alive for going over her head. To be fair, Coldwater didn’t seem to want particulars anyway. One of the benefits of sitting on top of the machine, I suppose, was not having to trouble yourself with how all the little cogs down below worked. So long as they continued to do so, and smoothly.

  “I’ll let you get on,” she said. “Don’t stay out too late though, dear. It wouldn’t do to have our liaison meet looking like a hungover panda. And whatever you’re up to at the museum, do be sure to spend a moment in the Greek section. Their collection of Ionian pottery is wonderful. You must see it, it’s divine.”

  She hung up before I could say anything.

  “Coldwater,” I told them, slipping my phone back into my jeans. “Booking up my calendar for tomorrow.” I had such a fun and busy work-life balance. “I thought it might have been our entry to the museum.”

  As I spoke, a car appeared at the end of the street, a highly polished limousine. Its headlights cut through the darkness as it rolled towards us, pulling up outside the museum in regal splendour.

  “Speak of the devil. Understated as always,” I sighed. I had said on my message to come low key. But I was too relieved to be properly cross. I wasn’t sure he’d respond at all.

  Allesandro and I got out of the car and crossed to where the limo waited. The tinted back window rolled down with a soft electronic hush.

  “There had better be a good reason for this,” said Oscar from the backseat. “If my father even suspects I’m out of the house, I’m dead. You’ve no idea how hard it is for me to sneak out at the moment.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for coming, Oscar. I didn’t know who else to ask. I thought you might have the pull. You’re a powerful name.”

  He got out of the car, slamming the door noisily.

  “Only just,” he said. “If you had any idea how many strings I had to pull to get the museum director to give me direct and private access in the middle of the night…well, let’s just say it’s a good job I happen to know about the curator’s little ‘indiscretions’ with the Chair of Classical Studies. Much more about them than, for instance, his wife does.” He looked from me to the vampire at my side, noticing Allesandro for the first time, and cocked his head a little.

  “Hello,” he said to Allesandro warily. “I didn’t know we were having a party.” He turned a strange mixture of thrilled to be in the presence of a vampire and put out that I wasn’t on my own.

  Allesandro looked at me. “This boy can get us inside the museum?”

  “This boy is Oscar Scott,” said Oscar swaggeringly, walking
up the wide steps to the museum door. He was wearing a black trench which fluttered behind him. Very espionage-y. I wondered how long he’d taken choosing the right outfit to steal around in a museum before leaving the house. “He can get whatever he bloody well wants.”

  We followed as Oscar swiped an electronic security card on the service door by the main glass entrance. A small panel slid from the wall, and, looking briefly at numbers doodled on the back of his hand in what looked like felt-tip pen, he quickly punched in a long code. There was a series of beeps, and a small red light above the doorway flickered to green.

  “Of course, it always helps when one’s daddy is holding a celebratory gala here tomorrow night,” he added. “There’s going to be fireworks, champagne and tiresome conversation galore. I told the curator I had to check everything was in order, in person, right now, on the whim of the old man.”

  He tried the handle, and the door opened with a swoosh.

  “The curator bought that story?” I asked, following him inside into the large marbled atrium. Our voices echoed along the galleries.

  “Did he fuck,” Oscar said, matter of fact. “But his wife is an heiress and he can’t afford to lose her. Doing favours for me keeps my lips shut tight.” He glanced thoughtfully at Allesandro. “Unless that’s not the desired outcome of course.”

  Allesandro closed the door behind us as Oscar strolled in a business-like manner behind the welcome desk and waved a DataStream into life.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, looking around in the darkness. Greek and Roman sculptures stretched away on both sides, barely visible in the silent museum. I wished we’d brought torches. It just didn’t feel right breaking into a museum at night without torches to swish around in a furtive manner. The place felt spooky to me.

  “I’m disabling the interior security, Pheebs,” Oscar said, tapping away on the screen. “There are lasers, motion sensors, heat sensors, probably fart sensors, everywhere in this bloody place. You can’t take two steps without setting off one alarm or another.”