by Mike Shevdon
"Hmmm. Not really. It's kind of urgent, in a historical way. Is there any possibility you could have a word with his clerk and see if we could have five or ten minutes now? I would really appreciate it."
She peered at me over her glasses. "This is highly irregular, but I suppose there's no harm in asking. Who shall I say wants to see him?"
I realised I was going to have to give my name and we were still only ten feet from the security station where the guards were scanning the belongings of people returning from lunch. "It's Niall… Niall Dobson." I borrowed my ex-wife's surname in a moment of inspiration, "and this is my friend…" I ran out of steam as I realised the only name I had for my companion wouldn't do for this occasion either.
"Veronica." Blackbird stepped forwards. "Doctor Veronica Delemere. I'm with the University of London at Birkbeck."
I glanced sideways at Blackbird and then back to the receptionist, who gave me a look that said she wasn't impressed by University types. Nevertheless she picked up the phone and dialled a rapid sequence of digits.
"Claire? Claire, it's Marcie. I have a couple of visitors who would like to speak with the Queen's Remembrancer about his duties. One of them is from Birkbeck and the other is from…?" She looked up at me.
"I'm just an interested amateur," I demurred.
"He says he's an amateur, but he's very charming." She smiled at me in a conspiratorial way. "Yes, I know he's busy, but they only want fifteen minutes and they say it's urgent."
She paused to listen.
"I know, I know, but they just wondered if he would meet them. They claim it's about something historically interesting. Ten minutes would do? You know how he is about his history." There was a pause. "Sure, I'll wait."
She whispered to me. "She's just checking."
"We really are very grateful for your help."
"Oh, that's OK. He loves historical things, especially if there's a mystery. There is a mystery, isn't there?"
"Oh yes," I nodded. "It's a mystery all right." I glanced at Blackbird.
Marcie's attention was drawn back to the phone.
"That's great. I'll send them up." She put the phone back on the cradle. "She says you can go on up now. Just don't try and sell him something or you'll get me in a world of trouble. You see that balcony there and the archway below it? Go up the stairway and turn to your right at the top. Go down the corridor and Claire will be waiting for you. Don't get lost."
"We won't, and thanks."
"No trouble, honey. Turn to your right, remember. I hope you find what you're looking for."
"I hope so too."
I turned to follow her directions, Blackbird at my side.
"Charming, huh? It looks like you have a fan there," she suggested.
"Doctor Veronica Delemere of the University, eh?" I countered.
"Well I can hardly be called Doctor Blackbird at the University, can I?"
We went to the archway and found a stone stairway leading upwards. There were lots of signs directing you to one court or another, but we ignored these. The stone stairway had white stripes painted on the edge of each step and a dark wooden handrail. They were quite steep. We turned right, as instructed, walking down the corridor past the courtrooms.
Waiting there was a petite brunette with short straight hair. She didn't see us until we were quite close and I wondered whether she was seriously shortsighted. Her jacket and skirt were dark and sober and she looked all business. She thrust out her hand at me, rather aggressively.
"Claire Radisson. Pleased to meet you."
"Hello, I'm Niall Dobson and this is Veronica Delemere."
Claire shook our hands in short tight gestures.
"Perhaps you'd like to come through?"
She turned on her kitten heels and marched off down the corridor, plainly expecting to be followed. We hurried along behind.
"There are so many people who want His Lordship's time and only so many hours in the day. It would only be possible to give you a few moments, I am sure you understand." She implied that there was no room for compromise. There was something else here, though. Deception rang in her tone.
"Of course, we will be brief," Blackbird reassured her, glancing at me with a raised eyebrow.
She walked down the corridor and then turned off to the left, stepping past a doorway and ushering us into a neat anteoffice with a desk and bookshelves. Small touches like a floral tissue box and the handbag placed on the cupboard behind the desk led me to believe that this was her space. There was a further set of double doors that remained closed. I figured that in order to gain access to the inner sanctum we would need to satisfy her that our business was worthy of his lordship's time.
"Perhaps you'd like to tell me what this is all about?" She moved around the desk, putting it between her and us.
"It's concerning the duties of the Queen's Remembrancer and the Quit Rents Ceremony. We would like to ask His Lordship a few questions, if that's possible."
"I'm afraid he has a full schedule. Can you be more specific?" Again, I was sure she wasn't telling us the truth. Perhaps she was just checking to see if we were wasting his time?
"We're interested in changes," Blackbird expanded, "the way the ceremony may have developed over time."
"And you've spoken to him about this earlier?"
"No, but you already know that, surely?"
She gave a brittle laugh. "I'm afraid that, as His Lordship's clerk, I only deal with his business affairs. Do you know him personally?"
There was a lot of dissembling going on here, but we needed to get past that and speak to the man himself.
"No, we've not met him before," I said. "So, would it be possible to have a few words with him, if he has a moment he could spare us?" I hoped I was being as charming as Marcie had made me out to be.
"I'm afraid that won't be possible." This time there was no deception.
"But Marcie said she was sure you would be able to find a slot for us. We only need a few minutes."
"You misunderstand me; you can't see him because he isn't here. He was at a late briefing last night until about ten o'clock. He left in good spirits at about half-past ten."
She looked from Blackbird to me.
"He hasn't been seen since."
FOURTEEN
Claire looked from one of us to the other. "I was hoping your 'urgent matter' might provide some explanation as to where he might be." Claire was gauging our reaction to the news that the Remembrancer was missing. Is that what the deception was all about? Did she think we were responsible?
"No, we were hoping to meet him to speak with him about the ceremony," I explained.
"Then I am afraid you will be disappointed. He's not here."
"When you say he's not here, you were expecting him, yes?" Blackbird suggested.
"He has appointments in his diary but he hasn't come in this morning. As I am sure you can imagine I have a hundred things to re-arrange, so if you wouldn't mind…?"
"Have you rung his home?" Blackbird asked.
"Look, I don't know what business it is of yours, but–"
The phone rang on her desk. She glanced down at the display and then picked it up.
"If you would excuse me for a moment?" She turned away, cradling the phone close to her shoulder.
"Hello, Elizabeth? No, there's been no word."
She paused.
"I've checked with the hospitals and there's no one matching his description. I'm sure if there'd been an accident we would have heard by now."
She listened to the caller.
"No, look I'm sure it's nothing. He'll turn up, just wait and see. I have some people with me at the minute but I'll call you the moment there's any word, I promise. Yes, straight away. Promise. Bye."
She turned back to us and put the phone down.
Blackbird turned to me. "He didn't get home then. That's not good."
"Do you think that's our worm?" I asked her.
"It could be, though from the way
it was said I got the impression that the worm has been there for some time. It's not a recent thing."
"Would you mind," asked Claire, "continuing this conversation elsewhere? As I have already told you, the Remembrancer isn't here and as I am sure you can appreciate, I have a busy day ahead of me."
Blackbird asked Claire, "Has he had any strange visitors? Has anyone unusual come to call?"
"Look, the police will be here shortly. I am sure they're capable of sorting this out. Now if you wouldn't mind…"
"Anyone who appeared drunk? Or slow?" Blackbird persisted.
"No, now look, I really… What do you mean, drunk?"
"Someone that slurred their words and seemed uncoordinated, maybe?" I suggested.
"Anyone asking about the ceremony?" Blackbird added.
Claire looked between the two of us. We suddenly had her attention.
"There have been phone calls, just recently," she told us, "that sounded as if the person calling were drunk. I put them down as prank calls."
"Did the person sound is if they were calling internationally, over a long distance?" Blackbird asked.
"What do you know about this?" Claire demanded.
Blackbird ignored the question. "Did they ask about the ceremony?"
"Oh God, the ceremony." Claire ran her fingers back through her hair in an unconscious gesture. "Well, hopefully he'll have turned up by then. We can put it back a day or two, but–"
"But it must go ahead," Blackbird finished for her.
She gave Blackbird a very direct look but confirmed it. "The ceremony will have to go ahead, regardless. It's been a continuous unbroken sequence for centuries. Now I really am sorry, but that is as much time as I can spare you right now. If you'd like to come back when His Lordship is here then perhaps he will spare you the time to go through this with you, but in the circumstances I'm sure you can see that we have other priorities."
I suspected she knew more, but she had no reason to tell us anything..
"Marcie said that we might come to the ceremony. Is that still possible?"
"Yes, it was originally planned for next Tuesday but the date may change now, of course. If you contact reception at the beginning of next week, they should be able to confirm dates by then."
"Can you arrange another Remembrancer by then?" Blackbird queried.
"Hopefully we won't need to."
Blackbird looked at me and then at Claire. "I think you may need to arrange a substitute."
"I get the impression that you two know more about this than you're letting on." She gave Blackbird a steely stare, but Blackbird was a match for her.
"Likewise," she answered.
"Would it help," I offered, "if I said that we'll do anything we can to assist?"
"Thank you, but unless you know where His Lordship is, I don't think you can help."
We had reached stalemate. She wasn't going to budge, even though I was sure there was more she could tell us. Something had to shift, and it wasn't going to be her.
Blackbird turned to me. "I don't think there's any more we can do here. The ceremony will go ahead with or without the Remembrancer."
"But the worm?"
Blackbird shrugged. "Ms Radisson, the police aren't going to be able to help you. If you want to find your Remembrancer then you're going to have to trust us."
"I don't have to trust anyone," she said firmly.
"Very well," said Blackbird. "Come on Niall, we have things to do."
"But what about the worm?" I said.
"I can't make her help us. Come on."
She walked out of the office. I gave Claire a helpless look and followed. I caught up with her in the corridor.
"Where are we going? We need to know what's wrong with the ceremony."
"Don't worry," she said quietly. "She'll call us back by the time we reach the stairs."
We reached the stairs and looked back. There was no sign of Claire.
"Maybe we should go back?"
"Maybe that isn't your path," Blackbird said, and took the stairs down.
I followed her down into the vaulted hall below and we headed for the exit.
"Do you have a plan? Is there another way to find out?"
"We need to look for the next part of your vision. With that we can move forward."
"I don't even know which is the next part. It could be any of them."
"We're not getting anywhere with her. There must be another way." We went through the exit gate, back out through the high stone doorway into the sunshine.
"So where now?"
As we exited into the road, one of the security guards came through the entrance and called after us. "Excuse me? Sorry, were you with Miss Radisson a moment ago?"
We stopped. "We were," said Blackbird.
"She called down. She says you left something in her office."
"Did she? Then I guess we'd better come back for it." Blackbird smiled at me. "Told you."
"You weren't sure," I said to her, but she just smiled.
We repeated the ritual with the scanners and then made our way back up to Claire's office. She was waiting for us.
"Perhaps," she said, "we could try again?"
"That depends on whether you can help us," Blackbird said, "so that we can help you."
"If there's something you know, something that could help us find Jerry, I would like to know it."
"Let's go back to the phone calls," said Blackbird. "They have a hollow quality, as if the speaker is in a large room, or on speaker-phone, don't they?"
Claire's expression didn't change.
"The speaker's voice is strange and slurred, drunk even, and there's a delay, like on international long distance."
She still didn't say anything.
"There's something about them that doesn't sound like a phone call. The etiquette is all wrong. How am I doing?"
"Go on," she allowed.
"These aren't the normal enquiries – 'Would His Lordship be available for such and such a date or this or that event?' – these are odd calls, as if the caller isn't used to telephones."
Claire cleared her throat. "The first time it happened, it completely caught me out. It was Monday, I think, and we were dreadfully busy. I picked up the phone and said hello. It was an internal number, you see?" She glanced at the phone on her desk.
"The caller asked, 'What does the Remembrancer remember?' There was no greeting, just the question. I think I said 'I beg your pardon?' and the caller said, 'What does he want?' They slurred their esses and it was difficult to understand them. I said 'What does who want?' wondering whether they were drunk. The caller said, 'The Remembrancer, what does he want?' I asked them who was calling and they put the phone down. The thing was, right through the call, there was an engaged tone in the background as if the lines were crossed. I put it down to a fault on the line."
"But it happened again," Blackbird prompted.
"This time it was another voice, more confident and not slurred, but still odd. It was another internal call so I just picked up the phone and said 'Claire speaking' and the caller laughed, like it was funny."
I looked at Blackbird, but she was focused on Claire.
"The voice said 'The ceremony is cancelled this year, Claire.' I knew it was the same kind of thing because the engaged tone was in the background again, so I said 'Who is this?' The laughter started again and then something was wrong with the power because the lights went dim as if the voltage had dropped. I slammed the phone down."
"And the lights came back on?" Blackbird suggested.
She nodded.
"That's just as well. What happened then?"
"I asked Marcie to trace the call. It was obviously somebody playing pranks, but I didn't think it was funny. All calls for the courts are logged and tracked, for departmental billing and for security."
"What did it show?"
"It came back with 'extension unregistered'. We had the phone people check into it, but they said it was some sort o
f external line fault, so we were no wiser."
"Have they called back again?"
"No, but the second call was only yesterday. How did you know what happened?"
"I saw it before," said Blackbird, "a long time ago." Her words made me think of a little girl, curled in a corner, watching a dark shape speak into a mirror.
"Would His Lordship have come back here last night? Could he have picked up a call?" I asked.
"He may have done. The calls go through to his office if I'm not here."
"Have you been in his office today?" asked Blackbird.
"Yes, several times."
"Can I take a look?"
"You can look, but he's not in there."
Blackbird went to the double doors and pushed one open, standing in the doorway to observe the room. Satisfied that it was indeed empty, she stepped through. I stood in the doorway behind her. She walked around the large desk with its dark, polished surface and green leather inlay, the walls stacked with row upon row of legal texts. She slowly circled the office, drawing her forefinger across the polished surfaces.
"Not here," she said.
"I told you he wasn't there," said Claire, from over my shoulder.
That wasn't what she meant. She meant he hadn't died there.
I stepped back into the ante-office and she came after me and pulled the door closed behind her.
"If you get another call like that, put the telephone down straight away. Don't speak to them, don't listen to them. Just put the phone down, OK?"
She nodded. "Do you have any idea what happened to him?"
"Perhaps. When did you speak to him last?"
"Yesterday. He had an evening engagement and I left him to it. He never went home. His wife is frantic with worry and calling here every ten minutes. I've already called all the hospitals and alerted the police, but there's no sign of him. I was sort of hoping your historical mystery might have something to do with it. He's a keen historian. It's possible he went off on some wild goose chase."
"Does he do that a lot?"
"No, nothing like this has happened before. That's what's so worrying. What if he's been kidnapped or something? We deal with all sorts here, organised criminals, gangs, murderers, everything. The police are coming in an hour or so to talk to me, but there have been no demands or ransom. In the absence of anything else, I think they're hoping he'll just turn up."
