HOW IN GOD'S name did you survive?' yelled Commissioner Dray.
'God had nothing to do with it,' replied the man called Reynolds, a native French accent suddenly rising to the fore.
'Yeah, but…but Quaint shot you right through the heart!'
'Serves me right for not having one, then doesn't it?' smiled Reynolds.
'First Cornelius Quaint turns up out of the blue, and now this? What is it-the week for skeletons in my wardrobe? I knew someone was pulling my strings, man, but I had no idea it was you,' Dray said, and was forced to steady himself against the wall. 'My God…all this time…you've been alive? Why didn't you tell anyone? Why did you let people believe it?'
'Oh, come, Oliver, what would you have done if you had known the truth?' Reynolds challenged, his thick, European accent showing itself more freely now that the faeade he had used as a mask was no longer needed. 'Would you really have been pleased to see me? Would you have said: "It has been fifteen years since you murdered for my father, Antoine, how's tricks?" Don't make me laugh!'
Jennings removed his helmet, and mopped at his brow with a handkerchief. 'Hang on a mo, boss,' he said. 'I'm gettin' a bit out've me depth here. How do you know Mr Reynolds?'
'Reynolds is merely a nom de plume, Constable,' said Reynold, 'as dear Oliver knows very well. But I did not come here for formal introductions; I came to pass on a friendly warning.'
Dray responded with a guttural growl. 'So, you've been masquerading as this "Reynolds" character all along? Right under my nose? Using my own constables to do your dirty work? Blackmailing me with my father?' He clawed at his thin strands of hair. 'I just can't understand it…but why go to all that bother? Not just for Cornelius Quaint's benefit, is it? Wouldn't you prefer to see the look on his face when you turn up alive and well after all this time?'
'Revenge against Quaint is just a bonus for me, Oliver. It is personal,' said the Frenchman, stepping closer to Dray. 'This is business. I'm revealing my identity to you now, should our paths cross again in the near future.' Reynolds swept a thick strand of hair from his forehead. 'Quid pro quo, remember? You're no fool, Oliver; you know how the Hades Consortium operates.'
Dray inhaled sharply at the words. 'The Hades Consortium has interests here? In…in Crawditch? I…I didn't know. Why did I not know?'
'The Consortium is not likely to broadcast its involvements. Our projects have strict time schedules to adhere to. It was not necessary for you to know what did not concern you, Oliver. Although you are unaware, I have been trying hard to save your neck all week, monsieur.'
'But…but why are you here?' asked Dray. 'Why now?'
The Frenchman's nostrils flared. 'Let's just say that The Consortium requires something of value in this pitiful little borough, and they sent me to negotiate its collection. Of course, when I heard my old friend Cornelius Quaint was en route to London as well…I just had to stick around for a few more days and have a little fun with him.'
Listening intently from within the seclusion of the nearby conifer trees, Prometheus felt a cold chill run up his spine as he heard the words. He knew very well from the intent in the Frenchman's voice that he was anything but a friend to Cornelius. What he was hearing now was a conversation that he needed to pass onto his employer urgently, and his secret position, hidden from sight, was essential. The more he heard and the longer he pushed his luck concealed within the nearby bushes, the more information he would have to pass on. Such was his concentration on his own stealth that he was completely oblivious to the person sneaking up slowly from behind.
'So, all this Hawkspear nonsense…that's you as well, is it?' Dray questioned.
'Certainly not.' The Frenchman laughed under his breath. 'Well, he's partly my fault, I suppose, but we're both working for someone else…someone other than The Consortium, someone with heavenly connections.'
Constable Jennings glanced across from Dray's to Reynolds's faces. 'I'm totally bloody lost, I am. This is all gettin' a bit too confusin' for me.'
Reynolds grinned at Jennings's naivety. 'Oliver, I wanted to let you know that no matter what my business is here in London -Cornelius Quaint will get his just reward. I have been waiting so very long, patiently biding my time, just for the right moment. I know just how to test him to his limits-and I know what his weaknesses are.' The man flicked his tongue about his lips, savouring the images he took from his words. 'Oedipus had nothing on me!'
Prometheus's temper had reached critical mass, and he was starting to get white spots before his eyes, he had restrained himself for so long. He clenched his jaw and prepared to leap into the yard, tearing this newcomer limb from limb. Just before he leapt, his muscles like a coiled spring; he felt a firm tug on his sleeve. He spun around sharply. At his side, Butter grinned up at him mischievously, and held his finger to his lips.
'Right,' said Dray, quaffing a swig of whisky from a silver hipflask. 'So, in exchange for keeping your mouth shut about my family's dealings…what more do you want from me, hmm?'
'Nothing,' said the gaunt man with a shrug. 'Not a thing. I didn't come here for more demands, Oliver. Like I said; I am only here to offer you a warning.'
'For free?' scoffed Dray.
'The Hades Consortium has invested a lot of time and money in your career, Oliver-remember that. They are not about to throw away one of their best assets.' The man walked over towards the tall gate, unlocking the bolts at the top and bottom of the frame. 'Your life is in danger, and soon someone will arrive and try and take it. I have gone to extreme measures to ensure that that someone was not me. You have enemies, Oliver…and they do not bow down to the law. If I were you, I would keep my eyes open, and never walk alone, no matter what time of day or night. I'll be seeing you. Au revoir, monsieur, et bon chance.' He stepped out into the lane that ran parallel behind the station, departing from the yard. The gate swung shut on the yard, leaving a dumbstruck Dray and Jennings to themselves, as if Reynolds had never been there at all.
Jennings skipped over to the swinging gate and went out into the lane. 'He's gone, sir. Nowhere to be seen,' he said.
'Like a ghost…' muttered Dray.
'So tell me…if he weren't Mr Reynolds…who the bloody hell was he anyway?'
Dray puffed out his cheeks, and made a point of exhaling loudly. 'That man is trouble with a capital "T", lad, and you'd do well to forget about him,' he said, catching Jennings's eyes. 'But I'll tell you this much, laddie…if things were bad for Cornelius Quaint before…they've just got ten times worse.'