The Minority Council (36 page)

She bit her lip; the dog, curious, wagged its tail. Then she held out her hand, palm up. We hesitated, then reached out, peeling away the glove that protected our right hand. With dirty fingers ending in yellow curling nails, she traced the twin scars cut into our palm, the two crosses of the Midnight Mayor, one inside the other. She smiled, folding our fingers over our palm and pushing our hand gently away. “Got something you need to say?” she asked.

“The Aldermen have betrayed me,” I answered. “I don’t know how far it goes, but I can’t trust them. And…”

She raised her eyebrows but said nothing. Her hands made fists, to keep warm.

“And,” I sighed, “and I never told Templeman that the beggar who escaped was a woman. So how did he know?”

A silence, as the words settled like snowflakes. The dog wagged its tail again. “Okay then,” she said.

“Thank you.”

I dragged myself up a limb at a time, catching my breath. Bed rest, Dr Seah had said. I wondered if we were passing the point where that would really cut it.

Time to move again, taking it one step at a time. I paused at a little closet of a store nestled between a barber’s and a painter’s shop. It sold rip-off ink cartridges, rip-off computer monitors, rip-off money exchange to foreign parts and, above all else, rip-off mobile phones. I bought a pay-as-you-go phone with a bright pink cover adorned with butterflies, and dialled Penny’s number instinctively.

She took a while to answer, picking up with a cautious “Yessss?”

“Penny, it’s me. Nabeela still with you?”

“Uh, yeah—you okay, you sound kinda rattled?”

“I’m having one of those ‘Oh shit’ moments. Might be nothing. Might be everything. I just wanted to make sure you’re… okay.”

“Jesus, Matthew, I’m like kick-ass awesome! Why the hell shouldn’t I be? There’s even these Aldermen guys trailing us, and right monkeys they are at being discreet, seriously cramping the shopping style you know, and what the fuck is happening with you?”

I told her my plan, that night, for the culicidae.

“You want us there? Backup and shit?”

“No,” I said. “Tonight, all things considered, I want you as far away as possible. And, Penny, you think anything’s wrong, you think anything—anything at all—feels out of place, you run, okay?”

“This the fairy godmother again?”

“No. Well, yes, but no. This might just be something worse.”

One more call to make, from my new mobile phone.

I rubbed a little more garam masala between my hands, and headed for Canada Water. When the moment came I wanted to be near the Tube, with options for escape.

Canada Water’s Underground was a shiny new Jubilee Line station all in grey tile and grey glass, servicing a shiny newish shopping centre with all the charisma of herpes. I found a corner out of sight of the ubiquitous CCTV cameras, and followed the faint singing in the hollows of our ear until we came upon a small green telephone-exchange box. It resembled an upright suitcase bolted into the pavement, between a recycling point and map explaining the fastest way to the local garden centre. I plonked down on the pavement beside it, reached for the parts of my old mobile phone and began the work of reassembling. Inside the exchange box the telephone wires sang their tinny songs, clicker-clacking digital business from here to there, a whole world just waiting to be unleashed.

I reconnected my old phone and turned it on; as it warmed up, I pressed my thumb into the screen, until the image wobbled beneath it. As I drew my thumb back again, I dragged with it that tiny part of the telephone noise that my phone produced. A thin stretch of grey-white light tangled around my fingertip, pulled up from the screen like melted cheese. I flicked it at the green exchange box, and with greedy insistence it merged with the mess of wires and calls. My mobile phone flickered in doubt, the screen flashing on and off a few times as it tried to work out what it was and where it had come from, before finally giving up the ghost and displaying a single word:

Connect?

I connected, the signal bar jumping wildly as the tiny spell flickered between phone and telephone exchange, and redialled the number of Oscar Kramb.

He answered on the third ring, a rising lilt to his voice that converted irritation to surprise. “Good afternoon, Mr Mayor. I didn’t think you’d be calling me back.”

“I didn’t think you’d be picking up,” I explained. “Sorry about earlier. I just figured, what with your guys beating the shit out of me, and my guys having gone behind my back to supply my personal details to casual killers, I’d take a walk, for a more private chat.”

“Mr Mayor, your paranoia is almost admirable.”

“Mr Kramb—or should I call you Mr Godmother?”

“Oscar, please, and I’ll call you Matthew.”

“Isn’t that fluffy?” I murmured. “And, Oscar, as we’re such good mates can I say that if I’m paranoid it’s only because your reputation is that impressive.”

A business-like guffaw that ended too quickly. “Matthew, I am so glad we could have this chat! I’ve been such a fan, and of course I wanted to let you know how sorry I was about the little incident with my people. They were under strictest orders to treat you with the proper decency and dignity according to your office, and they assure me it was only your reluctance to behave in a reasonable manner that led to them beating the shit out of you, as you said.”

“You can’t get the staff, can you?”

“Alas, no. But that’s a problem we’ve got in common.”

My grin was locked in place for no one to see. “So tell me, Mr Kramb,” I said, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Ah, now yes,” he exclaimed, a cheerful man who’s
only just remembered the tragically dull business of the day. “This little business between us of the dusthouses—it was you who destroyed one of my dusthouses, wasn’t it?”

“I heard something about that. Something about how some random guy went in and ripped the earth in two beneath one of these places where some psychotic bastards find economic satisfaction in turning human beings into narcotic substances. Is that what we’re talking about here?”

“Fairy dust is not an illegal trade, Mr Mayor; I think my lawyer would like me to remind you of that.”

“I think your lawyer would tell you not to bother with the debate at all,” I replied sharply. “Get to the point.”

“Mr Mayor,” he sighed, “how do you see this business ending? You must understand, your own people will betray you, it is simply a matter of time. You cannot run forever.”

“How about until next week? Next week would be good; I’ll clear some time for you then.”

“I’d heard you were funny—did I mention I was a fan?”

“Yes, and I ignored it as being creepy.”

“Perhaps we can both find an amicable solution.”

He waited, so finally I said, “You know, when a man responsible for the deaths of countless… I won’t say innocents, but definitely people… talks about amicable solutions, I can’t help but feel a part of my soul die.”

“You would rather choose blood and violence? I can do blood and violence, of course, but I was hoping we could work this out some more civilised way.”

“Okay, fair point. How about this? You stop. You quit. You pack up your stuff and you get out of town, no fuss, no blood, no violence, and you do it now. Amicably.”

“Matthew,” his voice was full of disappointment, “when did you become so absolute? There are few things in this life to be absolute about, and this is not one of them.”

“Death is pretty absolute. Anyway, you’re obviously not going for my amicable solution, so I guess we don’t have anything else to talk about.”

I moved to hang up, but he exclaimed down the phone, “Mr Mayor!” I paused, listened. “Matthew,” he said, “are you not interested to know who has been poisoning beggars with fairy dust?”

I wasn’t surprised.

Then I was surprised at how unsurprised I was.

“I’m guessing you deny all knowledge of it,” I said.

“Not knowledge, no. I have been… aware of the situation, shall we say, for some time. But it’s not me, if that’s what you’re asking. What would be the point? The current market situation is ideal for my operation, and if we have learnt anything from this latest cock-up of a recession it’s that massive outlays beyond your available assets only… I was groping for a financial image that you would appreciate and understand, but I’m not sure if you are the right crowd for the gag.”

“You know, I’m always impressed at how many ways people find to call me stupid. You’d think I’d be getting bored of it, but since I’m that mind-numbingly thick, there’s always that twinge of novelty as I try to work out what’s being so wittily said. Are you trying to buy me off? Only that doesn’t seem in character.”

“Not at all, Matthew. I wouldn’t presume! If we were to kill you, and that’s of course still an option, it would cause a great palaver with the Aldermen. Not for personal
reasons—personally, I’m sure you know, you are disliked—but it is considered bad form to assassinate the Midnight Mayor. Precedent, you see. No, what I am proposing is merely an arrangement whereby we both benefit.”

“How’s that work?”

“Simply—I tell you who is responsible for experiments on the beggars, and you give me some guarantee that you will never again interfere with my business. I can even give you the details of several Aldermen who are, shall we say, less than you might wish them to be? I’m sure you could find such information valuable.”

Temptation.

Just for a second, just there, just a moment.

But it was merely an instant of thought—cold, clinical, rational—and didn’t stand a chance. “What kind of guarantee?” I asked, suspicion slipping into my voice.

“Say… a pint of your blood and an oath upon the twin crosses of your office?”

We just managed not to laugh out loud. “Wow! I’m not just thick, I’m clinically thick! Would you like one of my kidneys while we’re at it? They’re a bit shot through on painkillers right now, but I’m sure you could give them a good scrubbing.”

“I wouldn’t use your blood for anything but a guarantee of your behaviour, since…”

I cut in, soft and sharp. “What has Richard Templeman got against you?”

His silence was too long to be artful. Then, “Maybe I won’t have you hunted down and dismembered. Someone will probably get there before I have the chance.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.”

“Think about my offer, Matthew.”

“Were the long dead hours of the night made for anything else? Bye, bye, fairy godmother. Going now.”

“Goodbye, Mr Mayor. Soon, I hope, we can talk under better circumstances.”

Somehow, in the minutes my phone had been on, I’d missed two calls.

One from Kelly, one from Templeman.

I called Kelly first.

“Mr Mayor!” Her voice exploded with enthusiasm down the line, loud enough to make me flinch. “How are you?”

“Beat-up and grouchy, how are you?”

“Is there anything I can do to help personally? I’ve heard that lemongrass is a wonderful…”

“Kelly, please think hard before you extol the virtues of herbal remedies. I’ve had a bad couple of days.”

“Ah, yes.” She reset the brightness on her voice from dazzling down to shiny. “Just a few quick things to clear up. I’ve said ‘yes’ to the Worshipful Company of Magi, Maguses and Mages for next Thursday, I really hope that’s okay with you, but they do do an excellent dinner and it wouldn’t have to be a long speech…”

“If I’m still alive next Thursday, I’m sure I’ll appreciate it. What else?”

“Well, we, uh, we had a little problem with an imp infestation…”

“That’s a shame.”

“… but I think it’s in hand now…”

“Don’t be too harsh on the imps; it’s only nature, right?”

“Yes, Mr Mayor, of course, that’s very public-spirited of you, I’ll be sure to pass on the note. There was also a spamming issue…”

“Don’t you hate computers when they go wrong?”

“… but we’ve got it fixed now…”

“I knew you would.”

“I’ve been given a note from a couple of my colleagues advising that the fairy godmother may have hired some bloodhounds to track you down…”

“Really? That sounds messy.”

“… but I’m sure you’ve got it perfectly in hand!” she babbled. “And finally there’s this business of your attempting tonight to unsummon a creature made of slate and glass!”

“Hey, you know, if it hadn’t been preying on my mind, I would have completely forgotten about that,” I groaned. “What about it?”

“Well, Mr Templeman called to fill me in on the event—sounds very complicated, by the way, Mr Mayor, I’d love to read the summoner’s reports afterwards—and I understand you want full Aldermen support teams in place when you bring down the creature?”

“Considering that last time I tried, it nearly took my head off, yes please, a bit of support would be nice.”

“Now, when you say
full
support…”

“Caughey, Holta, Kwan…”

“Rathnayake, Fadhil and Templeman; of course, you requested their attendance specifically. Do you mind if I ask why?”