The Case of the Hidden Daemon

by Lucy Banks

  The train journey was uneventful, aside from Ribero berating a young man for not giving up his seat for him, then grumbling for the best part of an hour about having to stand in the aisle. Finally, after four hours of travelling, they arrived at Covent Garden tube station and emerged onto the busy street.

  “Chaos, as ever!” Pamela announced breezily, navigating a path through the throngs of people. “You’ve got to love London!” A double-decker bus raced past, creating a sharp breeze that tugged their coats and skirts into the air.

  “I take it you’re being sarcastic, yes?” Ribero used his crutches to forcibly part the crowd, oblivious to the glares he received in response. “Kester, hurry up with my bag there, and don’t pull it through the puddles, I don’t want it dirty, right?”

  Kester wiped his brow and promptly dropped all the bags on the pavement. “How did I get lumbered with carrying everything?”

  “You are young and fit, you should carry things!” his father declared. “When I was your age, I was carrying much more, without even breaking a sweat!”

  “Julio, stop nagging the boy,” Miss Wellbeloved muttered as she placed her own suitcase down and fumbled in her pockets for a map. “Right, it says the hotel is just up here on the left. Or is it the right?”

  Serena groaned. “Hurry up, we’re getting in everyone’s way here.” Sure enough, they were attracting plenty of angry comments from passers-by, mainly due to the fact that they were blocking most of the pavement with their luggage.

  Pamela loomed over Miss Wellbeloved’s shoulder, then pointed. “We need to turn right. Look. You’ve got the map the wrong way up.”

  “Then let us get going!” Ribero declared, hobbling forwards at a determined pace. The others followed him like herded sheep, fighting to keep their suitcases from being battered by the crowds. The smell of roasting chestnuts wafted tantalizingly from a nearby stall, though it was marred slightly by the pungent odour of the traffic, not to mention the general dampness coming from the evaporating puddles.

  Finally, they arrived at the steps of what appeared to be a very imposing, regal-looking hotel—complete with pillars, a bronze plaque, and a rather snooty-looking doorman.

  “Well, look at this place!” Mike whistled and chucked his battered backpack on the ground. “I don’t think I’ve ever stayed in somewhere as fancy as this.”

  “This is what you get when you take on a top-level government job,” Miss Wellbeloved replied with a trace of self-satisfaction. She handed her bag to the doorman, then winked at the others. “Just don’t get too used to it, okay?”

  “No, it’ll be back to bargain-basement establishments soon enough,” Serena muttered, though despite her sarcasm, it was obvious she was impressed.

  After checking in at an impossibly-huge, marble reception desk, they were shown to their rooms. Kester’s eyes widened as the bellboy opened the door. He hadn’t stayed in many hotels in his lifetime, mainly because he’d never been away much when he’d lived at home with his mother. This one was particularly grandiose with high sash windows, billowing velvet curtains, and enormously comfortable-looking twin beds.

  Mike looked similarly amazed. Ignoring the bellboy’s obvious hints for a tip, he closed the door firmly, then leapt on the bed, sinking into the duvet like a stick into melting marshmallow. “This is the life,” he said as he deposited each shoe on the floor with a deft flick of his toes. “Talk about luxurious. I bet those Infinite Enterprise boys get this sort of quality wherever they stay.”

  Kester chuckled. “Why not work for Infinite Enterprises, then? You always go on about how much they wanted to hire you, back in the day.”

  Mike propped himself against the pillows. “Well, don’t mention that to anyone. It was a long time ago now.” Leaping up, he strode over to the bathroom and pointed at the door. “Have you ever seen anything like this? Look, the toilet’s got a glass door with pictures all over it!”

  Kester nodded. “It’s pretty posh, isn’t it?”

  “We should check out the bar, see what they’ve got on the menu. Miss W said the government is picking up the tab.”

  “Yes, but only up to a certain amount,” Kester reminded him as he started to unpack his shirts. “Don’t go crazy, Mike.”

  “Ah, come on, mate.” Mike bounced up and down on the bed like an excited child. “We’ve got to make the most of it. Anyway, it’ll take your mind off things, won’t it?”

  Kester sighed and folded his clothes neatly into the chest of drawers. “I doubt it. We’ll be talking non-stop about the Thelemites for the next few days, which will only remind me of her.”

  “Still not heard anything?”

  Kester shook his head. He’d been trying to ring Anya constantly. He’d even tried calling her parents in Denmark, even though they didn’t speak much English. Unless she’s decided to go on holiday to Antigua without telling anyone, he realised, she’s obviously sneaked off back to the Thelemites, and I just have to accept it.

  Mike scooped up his backpack and poured the contents all over the bed. In addition to clothes, books, and random pieces of machinery, Kester noticed that several pebbles also fell out, not to mention a large amount of sand, which spread across the pristine duvet in a matter of moments. However, Mike seemed not to notice, and he proceeded to stuff his belongings in an untidy heap in the drawers nearest his bed.

  The shrill tone of a mobile phone cut through the quiet. Kester dived hastily into his trouser pocket, studied the screen, then looked away, disappointed.

  “It’s Miss Wellbeloved,” he said in a flat voice.

  “Well, go on, answer it!”

  He pressed the screen and pushed the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Ah, Kester—how is your room?”

  “Very nice, thank you. How’s yours?”

  “Your father seems to have taken up most of the room with all of his suits, but other than that, it’s very pleasant.” She laughed, then continued, “I’ve just let Cardigan and Ian know that we’re here, so they’re on their way to meet us. They’ve already reserved a conference room.”

  “Is Larry Higgins here yet?” Kester asked.

  “Yes, Larry checked in earlier, with his team.”

  In the background, Kester could hear his father muttering something that sounded suspiciously like it had the words “the Higgins” in it. “Is Dad kicking off again?” he asked.

  Miss Wellbeloved sighed. “When isn’t he kicking off, Kester? Anyway, we’re meeting downstairs in the lobby in half an hour. We’ll see you down there.”

  “Hang on,” Mike said urgently, flapping his hands in Kester’s direction. “When are we having lunch? It’s past two o’clock and I’m absolutely starving.”

  Kester shrugged. “Did you hear that?” he asked Miss Wellbeloved. “Mike’s hungry.”

  “I’m sure there’ll be some food somewhere that he can eat. Tell him to stop thinking so much about his stomach.”

  Kester looked in Mike’s direction to see if he’d heard. His indignant expression suggested that he had.

  “I’ll have you know that I think of plenty of other things apart from—”

  “—We’ll see you downstairs later,” Kester concluded swiftly, then he grinned at Mike, who was looking rather put out. “Come on, you know she’s right. You do eat a lot.”

  Mike patted his stomach affably. “I have to feed all this rippling muscle, don’t I?” He stretched out with a yawn, then pointed to the door. “Come on. Let’s go down early and get some bar snacks.”

  “Fine, but no alcohol.”

  “Spoilsport.” Mike grinned, then bounded to the door. “Last one to the bar is a loser.”

  Sounds about right, Kester thought glumly as he passed the mirror on the way out. I don’t think many people could be more of a loser than me.

  The bar was no less impressive than the rest of the
hotel, and Kester made himself comfortable on an enormous leather sofa whilst Mike ordered in platefuls of chips, which arrived complete with ketchup, mayonnaise, and virtually every other kind of exotic dressing imaginable. Kester forced a few chips down, but only out of politeness. The prospect of sitting through a lengthy meeting with the others wasn’t very appealing either.

  Finally sated, Mike eased one buttock-cheek up, passed wind audibly, then beamed round the room, oblivious to the horrified expressions of a pair of elderly women on the table opposite.

  “Right,” he concluded as he slapped Kester’s thigh. “Let’s get to work.”

  Sure enough, Serena was already waving crossly at them through the glass door and stabbing a finger violently at her wristwatch. They groaned, then made their way to meet her.

  “Seriously, don’t tell me you’ve started drinking already,” she chastised the moment they stepped out into the lobby.

  “No, actually!” Mike protested. He rubbed his stomach reflectively. “We were just getting a spot of lunch.”

  “Oh, was it nice?” Pamela asked, peering over Serena’s shoulder. “That’s made me hungry now, I wonder if there’s time for me to order something?”

  “No, there absolutely bloody isn’t!” Larry Higgins’s strident, nasal bark boomed across the polished floor. He marched over to them, then folded his arms over his stomach. “Infinite Enterprises will be here any moment, and the last thing we need is a hold-up whilst you stuff your face.”

  “Alright, alright,” Pamela said affably, giving Dimitri and Luke a wave, who were currently hiding behind Higgins and looking rather embarrassed. “Maybe they’ll have biscuits in the meeting, eh?”

  “Ah, what is the Higgins moaning about now?” Ribero snarled, sidling over to join them and waving his crutch threateningly in Larry’s general direction. “Always with the whining.”

  Higgins’s expression darkened. “You’re a fine one to talk, overdramatic moron. Honestly, everything’s always a bloody catastrophe according to you, waving your hands around all over the place and—”

  “—Gentlemen!” Miss Wellbeloved hissed as she positioned herself directly between them both. “Cardigan and Ian have just walked through the door, so perhaps some decorum is needed?”

  Is he wearing a cape? Kester thought as he watched Ian Kingdom-Green swoosh across the lobby to meet them. Sure enough, as soon as he reached them, he untied the bow at his neck and flung the garment off like a bat spreading its wings. Kester wasn’t sure whether to feel awed or amused.

  Cardigan, clearly used to Ian’s attention-grabbing entrances, merely smiled and extended a hand to them all. “Welcome everyone,” he said. “Thank you for coming up at such short notice. As you know, there have been some significant developments. Our surveillance expert, Lili, will also be joining us, but she’s been held up in traffic.”

  Lili Asadi, Kester realised, remembering the pert, slightly intimidating woman from his brief trip to Whitby. He’d got the impression that she’d thought he was a bit of an idiot, but he hoped he was just being paranoid. Quietly, he followed the others through another set of glass doors and down a long, silent corridor. Cardigan flung open the set of double-doors at the end and gestured inside.

  “Please,” he said politely. “Make yourselves at home. I suspect some of you might not have eaten, so I’ve taken the liberty of pre-ordering some sandwiches, which should be arriving soon.”

  Pamela punched the air with delight. So did Mike, despite the sheer volume of chips he’d put away only minutes before. Higgins muttered furiously under his breath, then stalked over to the meeting table.

  After they’d settled, Cardigan took his place in one of the large, leather chairs and folded his fingers under his chin.

  “Before I get started,” he announced, surveying them all calmly, “has anyone got anything else to tell us? Serena, thanks for checking that we received the Whilshin & Sons report, they sent it through to us when they sent it to you. Anyone else?”

  “We’ve been keeping a close eye on the Exeter Thelemite lodge,” Miss Wellbeloved said, picking at her nails nervously. “But it’s been quiet. Suspiciously quiet, if you want my opinion.”

  “Have you seen anyone going in or out?”

  She shook her head. “Only the cleaner.”

  Cardigan glanced at Ian, who stroked his beard thoughtfully.

  “That seems somewhat irregular,” he murmured. “After all, one would think they’d at least have their weekly meeting, if nothing else.”

  “Quite,” Cardigan agreed. He looked at Kester. “How about you? We know you managed to decipher some more song lyrics—did you get anywhere with the latest song? What was it called again?”

  “‘Ode to Set-Shirker’,” Mike and Kester chimed in unison.

  “That’s right. Surely that must be an anagram, mustn’t it?” Cardigan suggested as he leaned closer.

  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Kester agreed. “But if it is, it’s not one I’ve managed to crack yet. I wonder if he’s just playing with us again—throwing it in there as a red herring.”

  Cardigan browsed through his notes. “Do you think so?” he asked seriously. “Given what we know about this daemon already?”

  Kester shrugged. “I’m starting to think that none of us really know him at all, to be honest.”

  The door lurched open, and Lili Asadi stormed through with a sigh.

  “Remind me never to drive in Central London again.”

  “You say that every time, my dear,” Ian reminded her as he graciously pulled a chair out for her. “And every time we remind you, you still insist on driving.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Lili plonked herself on the chair. “Where are we up to, then?”

  Cardigan gestured at the others. “We were just being updated about the song lyrics, but so far, Kester hasn’t discovered anything new.”

  Lili gave him a curt nod. “That’s a shame. We were relying on the most recent Billy Dagger song to reveal something important.”

  “I’m doing my best!” Kester squeaked defensively. Lili shrugged, then gave him a tight smile.

  “So,” Cardigan continued with a sympathetic glance in Kester’s direction. “Lili, could you share your findings with the rest of us?”

  She nodded, resting her elbows on the table. “It was Tinker’s findings, really; he was the one on observations yesterday.”

  “Tinker is Lili’s assistant,” Cardigan explained, seeing the confused expressions around the table.

  Ian laughed and flicked his hair off his shoulders. “He’s notoriously bashful, so it’s unlikely you’ll ever meet him. Dear little chap, he is. Looks a little bit like a mole.”

  “Yes, thanks, Ian, that’s quite enough of a description,” Cardigan interrupted. “Go on, Lili—tell us what you’ve found out.”

  “Well,” Lili began dramatically, pausing to ensure she had their full attention. “The Whitby Thelemite lodge has been suspiciously empty all week.”

  “So has the Exeter one!” Miss Wellbeloved exclaimed.

  “And we were watching the Cambridge one,” Dimitri added, eyes glittering, “and that has shown no activity all week either. I wonder what is going on?”

  Luke rattled his fingers across the table. “That’s damned strange, ain’t it?”

  “It certainly is,” Lili agreed. She leaned back on her chair. “To be honest, I don’t know what to make of it all. However, something happened yesterday that was of interest.”

  “Please share it with everyone.” Cardigan put his notes down and folded his hands across his broad stomach.

  She nodded. “Barty Melville returned in his car, at around midday yesterday. It was odd, because he was in civilian clothes.”

  “You mean he wasn’t wearing his usual circus tent?” Miss Wellbeloved chuckled.

  “Exactly. He
was just dressed in jeans and a jumper, and he looked like he was trying to blend in, if you know what I mean.”

  “So, what the bloody hell did he do, then?” Higgins asked. “Something fishy, I suspect, judging by your expression.”

  “He went into the lodge, but for some reason, he sneaked in through the back door,” Lili continued. “We followed him using the thermal imaging system and saw that he spent a lot of time on the phone. I wish we’d managed to get the government to let us bug the place.”

  “There’s no point,” Miss Wellbeloved said primly. “Hrschni would be able to pick up on it in a heartbeat.”

  “I suppose so,” Lili replied. “Anyway, the next thing he did was start packing away loads of files into boxes, then moving them into his car. It was like he was removing all the paperwork in there.”

  “Now, that is suspicious,” Serena piped up. “Why would he do that?”

  “Moving to another location, perhaps?” Mike suggested.

  Lili sighed. “We have no idea. We trailed him for a bit, but once he’d hit the motorway, there was no way our surveillance van could keep up.”

  “Perhaps he is in London, eh?” Ribero said.

  “Maybe he’s gone back to Exeter,” Kester added. “After all, that is where he lives.”

  “Or the Thelemites have got another lodge that we don’t know about,” Lili said darkly.

  They all looked at one another. The frustration in the room was palpable as a fog. We’ve got all these clues in front of us, Kester thought as he knotted his fingers restlessly in his lap, but nothing solid to go on. The Thelemites are always several steps ahead of us.

  “So,” Higgins said, breaking the silence. “The question is, what do we do now?”

  “We’re going to focus our attentions on the London Thelemite lodge for now,” Cardigan said as he adjusted his shirt. “Something tells me that the key Thelemites are gathering somewhere, and it would make sense for them to meet here.” He nodded to Ribero. “We want your team to work in the archives for the next few days, see if you can find anything we’ve missed. I’ve already asked the team to pull out all the relevant documents for you.”