Witches Incorporated (45 page)

Melissande cleared her throat. “Miss Telford, it’s been truly delightful having this wonderful opportunity to get to know you better. His Majesty is going to be so excited when I tell him about this charming interlude. I’m sure he won’t know what to do with himself until you and he meet in person.” She flicked a glance at Bibbie. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to leave you now. It’s getting rather late, and there’s something we have to tidy up back at the agency.”

“Oh,” said Eudora Telford, woeful again. “Yes, of course, Your Highness. You’ve been too gracious. Too kind.”

“And speaking of Miss Wycliffe,” she added, “we’ve not forgotten the errand you were to perform on her behalf this evening.”

Eudora Telford blushed. “You know?”

“We guessed, Eudora,” she said gently. “I can’t imagine there’s anyone else for whom you’d have braved the streets of South Ott.”

“Please, Your Highness,” Eudora whispered. “You mustn’t tell a soul. I promised Permelia I’d take her secret to my grave.” She sobbed. “Just as I promised I’d help her, but I haven’t. I’ve let her down.”

“No, you haven’t,” said Melissande. “Miss Markham and I shall return tomorrow morning, promptly at ten, and escort you back to South Ott, so you can keep your word to Permelia.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t impose, Your Highness,” gasped Eudora. “I couldn’t
possibly
—”

“Oh, but we
insist
, Miss Telford,” said Bibbie, smoothly taking her cue. “It’s the least we can do. Besides, I have so many more stories about Antigone to tell you.”

Flustered and flattered, Eudora Telford surrendered. “Well, as long as you don’t consider it a dreadful inconvenience. Only, the thing is—if you’d not mind—” Her blush deepened. “You must promise not to mention it,” she said beseechingly. “Permelia would be so displeased with me if she were to discover—”

“Miss Telford,” said Melissande, “we shan’t breathe a
word
. The
last
thing we want is for Permelia Wycliffe to know that we know anything about your errand to South Ott.”

“Oh
thank
you,” said Eudora Telford, and showed them out with a fervent promise to be ready for them again in the morning.

“
Gemstones
?” said Bibbie in shocked disbelief, once she’d heard what was hidden in Eudora Telford’s reticule. She fired up the jalopy’s engine. “Are you
sure
?”

“Trust me,” said Melissande. “If there’s one thing I know about it’s jewels. I had to sell off most of ours to pay the palace gardeners towards the end.”

Bibbie whistled. “Gemstones
and
Haf Rottlezinder. Gosh. Things aren’t looking too good for Permelia, are they?”

“No,” she said shortly. “But let’s not jump to conclusions, Bibbie. We need to meet with Gerald and see what he found out. Let’s get back to the office, shall we? Fingers crossed Reg is waiting there for us, and she can fill in at least some of the blanks.”

It nearly killed him, but Gerald finally got Errol safely back to Wycliffe’s.

He came up with his plan of action during the mildly precarious journey to Errol’s parked car. Precarious not because the
docilianti
compulsion was in danger of wearing off, but because scant minutes after they left the ruined boot factory various civilian and government folk began descending on the area. Having paused to retrieve his staff from the vacant lot, he’d been forced to drag Errol further into the smelly shadows to avoid them being noticed. He’d stared anxiously at each passing vehicle but hadn’t—praise Saint Snodgrass—caught sight of Sir Alec. He did see Dalby, though, and thought his heart would stop altogether. But Dalby couldn’t see him this time… which meant he could start breathing again.

Once it was safe to get moving, he hauled Errol into an awkward dog-trot and hustled him as fast as he dared back to the wizard’s silver Orion. The old boot factory’s destruction had enticed quite a few people out of their homes, which was helpful. He and Errol lost themselves in the general excitement and reached the car without incident. It was still there, of course, its don’t-steal-me hex glowing a bold red warning on the windscreen.

“Unhex it, Errol. We have to get out of here.”

Dreamily, Errol did as he was told then let himself be bundled into the driver’s seat.

“Right,” he said, stowing his staff in the back and clambering into the passenger seat. “To Wycliffe’s, Errol. Slowly. Don’t draw any attention to us, whatever you do.”

Still trammelled in the
docilianti
, all the mean, superior sharpness in his face smoothed away, leaving it peculiarly pleasant, Errol obeyed. And as they glided through the advancing night in a car that cost more money than Gerald knew he could hope to earn in ten years, he ran through his plan again, looking for any holes that Sir Alec might poke in it. And then, when he couldn’t find any, hunched in the passenger seat and worked very hard at not thinking about
anything
… most
especially
what had just happened back there at the factory.

Wycliffe’s front gates were locked, but he took care of that with a touch of his staff. Still beautifully obedient, Errol drove them round to the R&D block. Gerald had to admit it: while he didn’t at all care for the
docilianti
, or having to use it, he couldn’t deny it was coming in handy.

As he and Errol got out of the car a winged shadow swooped down from one of the nearby tall and spindly balibob trees.

“Reg?” he said, then shook his head.
Surprise, surprise. Nothing changes. “
What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like, sunshine?” she said, landing on his outstretched arm. “I’m waiting for you.”

“But—but how did you know—”

“I didn’t,” she said, shrugging. “Not for sure. But it seemed like a safe bet. When I saw you and Mister Puppet, here, weren’t blown to smithereens along with that boot factory, I—”

“
Reg
! You were
there
? But I
told
you to—”

“Yes, well,” she said, insufferably complacent, her eyes gleaming sardonically in the meagre light from his newly-kindled
illuminato
. “I don’t take orders from you, Gerald. I might, every now and then, adopt a politely worded
suggestion
, but—”

“So you saw what happened?”

She sniffed. “I saw you save Errol, here. I saw the factory blow itself to matchsticks—you’re making a bit of a habit of that, aren’t you?—and then when I saw all the bigwigs rolling in, I scarpered. So what happened?”

Briefly, he told her.

“Well, well,” she said when he was done. “You’re turning lucky escapes into an art form, aren’t you?” Considering him closely, she tipped her head to one side. “Gerald…”

He roused himself from unpleasant memory. “What?”

“It’s not your fault if that Rottlezinder’s dead.”

“
If
he’s dead? Come on, Reg. That explosion spread him across half of South Ott.”

“Half?” She snorted. “You do exaggerate, Gerald. I’d say a quarter, if you’re lucky.”

“
Reg
!”

“Oh, don’t start,” she snapped. “If you could’ve saved Rottlezinder too, you would have. But you had to choose, and you chose pillocking Errol Haythwaite. Though why—”

“Because he’s innocent.”

“
Innocent
?” Incredulous, Reg stared at him. “
Errol Haythwaite
?”

“Yes. He went to see Rottlezinder to make him stop the portal sabotage.
And
he tipped off the authorities about today’s attack.”

“Blimey!” she said. “I don’t mind admitting I never saw
that
coming.” Feathers ruffled with surprise, she hopped from his arm onto Errol’s head. Obligingly docile, Errol said nothing. He barely flinched. Seemed hardly aware he was wearing a bird for a hat. Reg’s gaze sharpened. “All right, Gerald. What have you done to him?”

He turned back to the car and fished out his staff. “Nothing permanent,” he muttered. “Just encouraged his co-operation.”

“Oh, yes? Using one of Sir Alec’s dirty tricks, I take it?”

“Please, Reg,” he sighed. “Not now.”

Relenting, she chattered her beak thoughtfully. “I’ll say this much. Dirty trick or not, the incant works a treat.” Suddenly her eyes gleamed with wicked mischief. “What d’you think? I mean, this chance won’t come again, Gerald. I could pretend I’m a pigeon and Errol’s a statue.”

Despite everything, he grinned. “I think I don’t have time for this,” he said, trying to sound severe. “I have to get him inside and make it look like there’s been a laboratory accident.”

“Hmm,” she said. “Well, as cover stories go I suppose I’ve heard worse. Are you sure it’ll hold?”

“It’ll have to. At least long enough for me to do what needs to be done.” He pulled a face. “After that he can be Sir Alec’s problem. I’ve had enough of Errol Haythwaite to last me a lifetime.”

“And you’re quite sure he’s innocent?” said Reg, wistful.

He frowned, remembering the cryptic comments he’d overheard about sealed records and youthful indiscretions. “Of the portal sabotage? Yes.”

“Bugger.” She rattled her tail feathers. “And there was me looking forward to him being publicly disgraced.”

He pushed Errol’s car door closed again. “Reg, that’s not very nice.”

“Yes, well, neither is Errol,” she retorted. “All right then, so if he’s in the clear then who hired that bounder Rottlezinder?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Not yet. Now please, Reg, you need to leave. Again. And I mean
really
leave this time. The girls must be going spare, wondering what’s happened to you.”

“No they’re not, Gerald. They know I’d never leave you in the lurch.” She sleeked her feathers, getting ready to fly off. “You know, sunshine,” she added, abruptly serious. “That was some pretty fancy thaumaturgy you managed tonight. I’m talking about getting past Rottlezinder’s warding hexes. If I were you, I might be a bit… careful… about what I said in my report to that Sir Alec. After all, he’s a very busy man. Probably he doesn’t need to know every little pettifogging detail. Broad brush-strokes. Big picture. That’s what you should be focusing on.”

In silence they looked at each other. Then he nodded. “Thanks for everything, Reg. Tell the girls I’ll be in touch. I still need to know what part Eudora Telford played in this—if any.”

As she flapped away, he took hold of Errol’s sleeve. “All right, you. Come along. Let’s make this look good, shall we?”

The laboratory complex was dark and deserted, just the way they’d left it. Still passively compliant, Errol deactivated the warding hexes on the side door and they slipped inside. It didn’t take long to set up the latest Ambrose Mark VI prototype for destruction. A fiddle here… a tweak there… a clumsy adjustment or three to the thaumic regulation chamber…

When he was done, Gerald looked at Errol. In the bright laboratory lights all his scrapes, bumps and bruises from the factory explosion were starkly revealed. The damage to his expensive coat was equally impressive.

“Haythwaite,” he said, and put one hand on Errol’s shoulder. Snapped the fingers of his other hand in front of Errol’s face, reinvigorating the
docilianti.
Priming Errol for what was to come. Thrusting aside any nasty, niggling qualms.

I’m one of the good guys. That means I’m doing good.

“You need to listen to me now, Errol. Are you listening? Can you hear me?”

“Oh, yes,” said Errol. His altered face was quite blank. Waiting for someone to write his thoughts upon it.

Slowly, carefully, Gerald reconstructed the evening’s events. “We’ve been working here all night, Errol. Just you and me. Working on the Mark VI prototype. We haven’t set so much as a toe outside of the lab complex. You made me stay behind and work with you to make up for the time I took to go into town. You were very angry about that, Errol. You thought I had no business leaving the laboratory. Do you understand me?”

Errol nodded. “Yes.”

“How did you feel about me leaving the laboratory, Errol?”

Slowly, Errol’s face contorted. “Bloody Dunnywood,” he said, contemptuous. “Have to twist his arm practically out of its socket to get a decent day’s work from him. Well, I won’t have it, you mingy little turd. I’m in charge of this facility and you’ll bloody well work all the hours I say. You’ll work till you drop, do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Mister Haythwaite,” he said, letting his voice cringe. “I’m sorry, Mister Haythwaite. Of course I’ll work back with you, as long as it takes, Mister Haythwaite.”

“Yes indeed, you will,” said Errol. “Or I’ll see that Ambrose sacks you first thing in the morning.”

“Good, Errol,” said Gerald, and patted his shoulder. “That’s what you remember. That’s all you remember. And Haf Rottlezinder is nothing to you but a vague memory from your youth. You didn’t know he was in the country. You had no idea what he was up to. Do you understand me, Errol?”

Errol nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

Gerald let out a long, unsteady breath.
Lord, this is despicable. Even in a good cause. “
Excellent. Oh! Yes!” He’d nearly forgotten. “One last thing, Errol. If anyone asks, what happened tonight wasn’t my fault. In fact, I did everything I could to help you prevent this horrible accident. Ah… yes… which wasn’t much, because I am a thoroughly useless lump of a Third Grade wizard… but still. I tried. Right? You got that?”