‘His name,’ Irene said crisply.
The werewolf hesitated, looked at Kai again, then gave in. ‘Vlad Petrov,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t know no more than that.’
That sounded honest enough. And now they had a name to work with. ‘I think this gentleman has told us everything he can,’ Irene said to Kai.
‘I would agree.’ Kai turned back to the thug. ‘But let’s not run into each other again, hmm?’
‘You said it, guv,’ the thug agreed enthusiastically. ‘Least said, soonest mended, like my old mum always used to say.’
Kai didn’t bother asking what that was supposed to mean. He stepped back. ‘Good evening,’ he said. He offered Irene his arm and they strolled away together. They weren’t followed.
They turned the corner. ‘What do you think?’ Kai said quietly.
‘Very low-grade types,’ Irene replied and watched Kai nod in agreement. ‘And careless of whoever hired them. They were lucky their new employees didn’t attack the wrong people. And that whole business with the bag and “Don’t contact me, I’ll contact you.” She really didn’t want them getting in touch.’
Kai nodded again. ‘But I can’t quite see it as being Silver. Thugs aren’t really his style. Even if he was interested in the Stoker book. Our mystery Fae woman knew we’d be coming from the auction, with the bag - so surely she’d come from there herself. Perhaps she was Melancourt’s patron.’
Irene had to agree with the first part of that. Silver - or Lord Silver, if she absolutely must - was far more likely to arrange duellists with whips and rapiers, or have assassins descend on their house at midnight, if he really felt the need to express himself in that way. ‘Another Fae makes sense,’ she said. ‘But the timing’s off. I’m not sure someone could have been at the auction, left at the same time as us and managed to hire those werewolves to attack us.’
Kai frowned, thinking. ‘She could have left early and then hired the werewolves to intercept us - in case we got the book.’
‘True.’ They were almost at Oxford Street now. ‘But it seems a bit haphazard, and really a very careless way of handling matters.’
‘I know you’d do better, if it was you,’ Kai said graciously.
Irene gave him a sideways look.
‘I mean in terms of a planned operation,’ he added hastily. ‘Something well-organized and efficient, without trusting the first ruffians you come across to do a good job or being totally outmatched. It was a compliment, Irene. Really.’ He couldn’t entirely hide his smirk, though.
‘Planning now saves trouble later,’ Irene said firmly. ‘And there was someone watching from the rooftops. Someone of rather better quality than those men. I couldn’t get a good view of him - or her,’ she added thoughtfully.
‘Could it be just a burglar?’ Kai suggested.
‘It could be.’ Irene adjusted her veil. ‘But what if it was the person nominated to retrieve the bag, once the werewolves removed it from us?’
‘Oh, that makes sense. It’s a pity we couldn’t question the watcher, then.’
‘They were gone by the time you’d taken the men down,’ Irene said. ‘It looks as if that lady and her agents really wanted to hide their trail.’
‘But they failed,’ Kai said with satisfaction. ‘We have a name.’
They stepped out into Oxford Street, and Irene raised a hand to signal a cab. ‘Everyone’s unlucky sometimes,’ she said. ‘However good the plan may be.’
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps she and Kai had been a little bit too lucky themselves tonight.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning Irene spent a while thanking this civilization for inventing the shower. While in many respects it was similar to the period known as ‘Victorian’ in numerous alternate worlds (featuring smog, horse-drawn carriages as well as ‘ether’-powered carriages, and a lack of instant communication), in other respects it had managed to hit the important points. It had decent sanitation barring the smog, adequate clean water and plenty of tea and coffee. So she had to endure zeppelins, werewolves and vampires, and a lack of telephones (the users kept on getting possessed by demons). It could be worse. The smog killed most of the mosquitoes.
But while she was in the shower, she was thinking. She needed to get the Stoker book to the Library - and the sooner the better, before another theft was attempted. But she and Kai also needed to investigate the woman. Vale would be most helpful there. A sparrow couldn’t get stabbed in the back without the detective hearing about it. And while Irene or Kai could go sniffing round the Liechtenstein Embassy (Liechtenstein being a haven for Fae in this world), they might show their quarry they knew where to find her.
Kai was working at his desk in their shared study, scraping away with a fountain pen on a list of booksellers. He acknowledged her politely, but his attention was clearly elsewhere. A harshly glaring table-lamp threw his face into sharp profile, giving an extra gleam to his black hair.
It had been a sensible idea to get lodgings together, Irene reminded herself. It had meant that she could keep an eye on Kai. After they fell foul of the traitor Alberich and London’s Fae, via Silver, she didn’t want to take any chances. And being a friend of Vale’s could be risky in itself - especially when they helped on each other’s cases. Kai and she were both adults. They could share lodgings without having to get ‘involved’.