His secretary-a pretty, stupid young thing who had allowed me to talk my way into Grenwald’s office with a lie about the war-smiled up at me sweetly. “Was the colonel able to help with your pension problem?”
“It won’t be easy, but he’ll come through for me. You know the colonel-nothing’s more important than his men. He ever tell you about the time he carried me three miles across enemy lines, after I took a bolt in the thigh? Saved my life that night.”
“Really?” she asked, wide-eyed and bubbly.
“No, of course not-none of that was true,” I replied, leaving her more than usually befuddled as I walked out.
I left Grenwald’s office and the boy fell in alongside me without speaking. The meeting had been a waste-Grenwald was a spineless fool, and I couldn’t trust him to come through, not with something this important, not with the consequences I would suffer if it didn’t pan out. That meant I had to move on to plan B; and as far as plan B went, there was a reason it hadn’t taken priority.
Because plan B meant Crispin, he was the only contact I had left high enough to get the information and who I thought might have a chance in hell of saying yes. After our last meeting the thought of asking him for help was faintly nauseating, but pride comes second to survival, so I swallowed mine and started walking to where the child’s body had been found.
My reverie was broken by a voice that I only belatedly realized was Wren’s. I think it was the first time I had heard him speak without prompting.
“What happened when they took you to Black House?”
I thought about how to answer that question for a quarter of a block. “I rejoined the Crown’s service.”
“Why?”
“They made an appeal to my patriotism. I’d do anything for Queen and country.”
He swallowed this soberly, then spat out a response. “I don’t really care about the Queen.”
“Honesty is an overrated virtue. And we all love the Queen.”
Wren nodded sagely as we crossed the canal, the crime scene a bustle of motion a few dozen yards to the west.
The area was swarming with lawmen, and in contrast to their general tradition of incompetence, they seemed to be taking this one seriously. Crispin stood in the center of the chaos next to the child’s body, taking down observations and issuing instructions. Our eyes met, but he returned to his duties without giving any indication he had noticed me. I could see Guiscard canvassing witnesses at an intersection in the distance, and some of the boys who had given me a working over last time were milling about as well, more comfortable causing violence than investigating it.
“Stay here.”
Wren took a seat on the railing. I crossed into the maelstrom, ducking beneath the cordon and approaching my old partner.
“ ’Lo, agent.”
He responded without looking up, jotting down notes in a black leather-bound journal. “Why are you here?”
“Ain’t you up on the news? I missed you so damn much that I went to the Old Man and begged for my old job.”
“Yeah, I heard. Crowley sent a runner over an hour ago. I figured you’d use whatever time your bullshit bought you with Special Operations to get the hell out of town.”
“You never had enough faith in me.”
Suddenly the notebook was on the ground and Crispin had my lapel in his grip, the loss of temper striking in someone normally so self-possessed. “I don’t care what twisted agreement you made with the Old Man. This is my case, and I’m not letting your hatreds get dragged into it.”
My hand shot up and tore his paw off my shoulder. “I’ve had enough of being manhandled by law enforcement officials for one day. And as gratifying as it is to watch the Crown discover they have a population south of the River Andel, in our last go-round your assistance proved less than efficacious. Far as I can tell, most of your job is to stand around corpses and look distraught.”
It seemed unfair after I said it, but it eased him back down a notch. “What do you want from me?” he asked.
“For starters, why don’t you go ahead and run down the scene.”
“There’s little enough to run down. The body was found by a fish seller on his way to the docks. He reported it to the guard; they reported it to us. Judging by the state of the body, the girl was killed last night and dumped here early this morning.”
I knelt down beside the child and removed her wrapping. She was young, younger than the first one had been. Her hair looked very dark spread over her skin.
“Was the body… abused?”
“Clean, not like the last one. The only injury is the one that killed her, a straight line across the throat.”
I hid her corpse beneath the covering and stood back to my full height. “What does your scryer say?”
“Nothing yet. She wants some time to work with the body.”
“I’d like to speak with her.”
He mulled this over unhappily, but his permission was a formality and both of us knew it. The Old Man wanted me in on this, and the Old Man’s word is natural law. “Guiscard is supposed to stop by the Box later in the afternoon. I suppose you could join him.”
“That’s number one,” I said. “Here’s number two. I need you to get your hands on a list of every sorcerer detailed to take part in Operation Ingress, in Donknacht just before the end of the war. They’ll be buried deep but they’ll be around.” I shook my head ruefully. “The army can’t stand to throw anything out.”
He stared at me, then down at the ground. “Those are military records. As an agent of the Crown I don’t have access to them.”
“Maybe not directly. But you’ve got ten years of contacts and all the draw the blue blood pumping through your veins provides. Don’t tell me you can’t figure something out.”
When he looked back up at me, his eyes were clear as glass. “Why are you here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you here? Why are you at this crime scene, right now, trying to find the killer of this girl?” The moment of anger was gone, and now he just seemed weary. “What business is this of yours?”
“You think I’m a volunteer? The Old Man was getting ready to bleed me-this was my only out.”
“Run. Get out of Low Town. If it’s the Old Man you’re afraid of, run, run and don’t look back. I’ll make sure there are no reprisals against your people. Just… disappear.”
I dug at a loose stone with my boot.
“What? Nothing clever? No witty retort?”
“What’s your point?”
“Is this just to show how much smarter you are than the rest of us? Is there some scheme of yours I’m not seeing? Get out of here. You aren’t an agent. So far as I can tell, you’re the furthest thing from it. In case you’ve missed the last five years, let me condense them-you’re a junkie and a crime lord, you string out fathers and mothers, and you cut up anyone who gets in the way. You’ve become everything you ever hated, and I don’t need you fucking up my investigation.”
“I was the best detective the service ever had, and I’d still be thinking circles around you and everyone else if I hadn’t pissed off the brass.”
“Don’t pretend your failure was a choice. Everyone else might buy your bullshit, but I know why you aren’t an agent, and it isn’t because you weren’t willing to toe the line.”
I thought about how much fun it would be to scuff up that spotless gray uniform. “I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry. I remember you standing in judgment with the rest of them, when they struck my name from the record and shattered my Eye.”