Rook

with the straps and the mini-bustle. And certainly not that one with the feathers. Mentally going through the list of garments and crossing a line through each of them, I reached for the package. That one black dress might do, if I found someone who could figure out how all the ribbons braided through each other. I absentmindedly cut the tape on the box. To be honest, I was quite keen on wearing the necklace with the opals. But the dress that Lisa said I should wear it with was cut quite low. Both in the front and the back. And on the sides. In fact, it was really just a skirt with straps. Sighing, I opened the box.
    Inside, raw and bloody, was a human heart.
    N ow, Rook Thomas, I can assure you that we will get the blood out of your carpet,” said Ingrid.
    “And we’re having it tested for anything unfortunate,” said Dr. Crisp as he swabbed up a minute amount of gore from my desk with a Q-tip. A multitude of his assistants were swarming over the table and carpet where the blood had spattered. As soon as I had clapped my eyes on the thing in the box, I’d flung it away with what I later heard Ingrid describe to one of her friends as “the squeal of a terrified piglet.”
    “And we’re scanning both the heart and the box for any dangerous devices,” said Security Chief Clovis, taking a break from talking busily on his mobile. “See if we can’t trace it through the courier company,” he said to a subordinate who was hulking behind him. “It probably won’t work, but I want to cover every possible base.”
    “Rook Thomas, are you sure you won’t come out of the corner? I think you’d find the sofa more comfortable.” Ingrid turned away and spoke quietly to Dr. Crisp. I saw her cast a concerned look back over her shoulder at me.
    “Trauma?” Crisp said bemusedly. “I shouldn’t think so. She probably just needs a nice strong drink.”
    “Or a good slap!” said Teddy Gestalt as he walked into the room. The Pawns and Retainers scattered out of his way as he swept past the trail of blood and looked down at me with undisguised disgust. “Look here, Thomas, this is not acceptable behavior from a student, let alone from a Rook of the Checquy! Now stop that shaking, get up, and quit making a fool of yourself in front of the staff.” He cast a final look at me, rolled his eyes, and turned on his heel. “Dr. Crisp, Chief Clovis, I expect a copy of the reports on this development. And try to figure out why anyone would bother sending a heart to Rook Thomas.” He said this last in a tone of withering contempt and then strode out of the room, leaving a horribly awkward silence.
     

33
     
    A ching, sore, and in dire need of caffeine, Myfanwy sat gingerly at her desk. She wore soft, gentle pajamas and a dressing gown. Hours of unpleasant, time-consuming, and highly intrusive examinations combined with only a few hours’ sleep had left her in a foul mood. This condition was exacerbated by the feeling that she shouldn’t go back to sleep because she had to find Graaf Ernst von Suchtlen and the fact that the office coffee machine had broken and she didn’t know how to work the one in her residence.
    While Ingrid had gone off to beg coffee from some other department, Myfanwy had combed back through Thomas’s purple binder and found nothing that mentioned a meeting with any of the Grafters. She was now beginning to regret that she had left the letters at home in her study. In desperation, and in the throes of caffeine withdrawal, she was now reclined in her chair with her eyes closed. The phone rang, sending a blast of agony into her skull.
    “Yes?” she said tightly into the phone.
    “Rook Thomas, there’s a call for you” came Ingrid’s voice.
    “Did you get me any coffee?” she asked hopefully.
    “Yes, there’s some being sent up from the kitchens.”
    “Great. Let me know the second it gets here,” said Myfanwy, and then she hung up and closed her eyes once more. A moment later, the phone rang again.
    “Excellent, is the coffee here?”
    “No, I’m sorry, Rook Thomas, but you actually did have a call waiting for you.”
    “On a Saturday?” said Myfanwy plaintively. “Oh God.
Fine.
Who is it?”
    “Someone named, let me see, I had to write it down phonetically. It was a… Gerd de Leeuwen.”
    “Are you serious?” asked Myfanwy.
    “You do not put me on hold!” screamed a voice in her ear. Myfanwy flinched, inadvertently hurling the phone away from her, into the ornamental roses