Rook

another speculatively.
Does every member of the Court expect every other member of the Court to pull a bazooka out of an orifice?
thought Myfanwy.
    “If the Checquy has been compromised, then any Retainer could be a traitor,” said Farrier in an observation that was simultaneously paranoid and obvious. The woman shot anxious looks at Ingrid and the other Retainers.
    “Perhaps we should have them all killed,” said Myfanwy flippantly. There was another thoughtful silence, and, much to her horror, Eckhart actually seemed to be considering it. “Oh, for Christ’s sake! I was kidding!”
    “It might actually be necessary,” said Grantchester slowly. “We can’t afford to have traitors among us.”
    “We can’t go around killing the Retainers!” exclaimed Wattleman. “The organization would collapse!”
    “In addition to any incidental qualms one might have about murdering the staff,” Myfanwy muttered to Shantay. She felt as if her parents were embarrassing her in front of her best friend. “Anyway,” she said more loudly, “we can’t just assume this infiltration is restricted to the Retainers. After all, Gestalt was a traitor. Any powered individual could be working for the Grafters. Any one of us could.”
    “But not
another
member of the Court, surely,” said Wattleman weakly.
    “It’s impossible to be certain what has happened to this organization,” said Grantchester. The air around him shaded itself. Apparently, when he was stressed, his control over his abilities slipped. Curious, Myfanwy gently reached out and read his sensations. Insidethe Bishop’s body, it felt as though ice water were roiling just beneath his skin, seeping out of his pores. “Who knows how deep this infection goes?” The question hung in the air.
    “Well, there is one person who knows,” said Myfanwy thoughtfully.

25
     
    I ngrid, do you realize that today is a Sunday?”
    “Yes, Rook Thomas.”
    “You and I are driving into the barren wastelands of southwestern Scotland to visit a prison on a Sunday morning,” said Myfanwy, staring out the limo window. The car was in the middle of a fairly large convoy of bodyguards to protect the Rook while she was in transit. There were two armored limousines, one of which contained her, Ingrid, and two honor guards, the other containing a septuagenarian Pawn with the ability to breathe cyanide and sweat tear gas. There were also four heavily armed men on motorcycles, a van of soldiers, and a satellite tracking them from many kilometers above.
    Myfanwy had been a trifle embarrassed at the prospect of traveling with a small army, but Joshua Eckhart and Security Chief Clovis had insisted, citing the need for heightened security. Both had assured her that
these
were men they trusted, partially because the guards were powered and had all gone through the Estate’s indoctrination process, but mostly because of the terrible threats Eckhart and Clovis had made to them if something should happen to Myfanwy.
    In fact, these were only a few of the security measures that had been implemented in the past two days for the protection of the Court. As soon as Clovis arrived at Apex House on the night of the attack, he’d proclaimed that they would not be permitted to return to their homes for the immediate future but would henceforth be residing in their secure apartments in the three headquarters. Panicbuttons had been issued to everyone. The various Checquy facilities around the nation were placed in lockdown mode, and every member of the Court was now under the constant protection of two honor guards whenever outside his or her quarters. Even while the Court members were in their offices, there were always two guards standing outside each of their doors.
    “Yes, Rook Thomas.”
    “Hmm?” Myfanwy said absently.
    “Yes, you and I are driving into the barren wastes of southwestern Scotland to visit a prison on a Sunday morning. These are desperate times,” said Ingrid.
    “Yeah,” agreed Myfanwy. “Clovis said we haven’t been at this level of security since those creepy blond kids were wandering around in Winshire. He insists every Pawn and Retainer has to be accounted for. And that’s nothing compared to what the Americans are doing. In her last call, Shantay said something about shooting anyone who knows the capital of Belgium.”
    Since the American Bishop had flown back to Washington, D.C., the two of them had talked on the phone several times. Shantay was overseeing the